The Bar

1. A Very Tight Ship

It was a monday afternoon, too early for a stiff drink but gosh did Flint need one. The stress had gotten to him, holding interviews was one thing but after so many failed ones he was getting desperate.

He sat in his office in the back of the pub, decorated prestinely to a captains cabin on a ship from the 17th century. Fake pirate maps decorated the walls, as did a large white board with the schedule for the week. A wooden desk in the center with two wooden chairs in front of it for the interviewees. Fish netting decorated the ceiling with fake shells and fake candle lighting.

He still enjoys the idea of being on a ship. Even today, at the age of 35, the redheaded scottish immigrant was in love with the idea of adventure. Pirates, treasure, all of it. After perfecting his craft in the UK, Flint wanted nothing more than to travel acrosd the sea and open a pub in America, giving the gift of fine spirits.
Flint moved swiftly through his office and out the door, past the lockers which kept his employees personal items whilst they worked, and past the shelves of alcohol. Out the storage room Flint stepped around the bar and infront of his best employee.

"Dear friend, please tell me we have no more appointments," Flint asked his friend and employee.

Flint's voice was deep and his accent had somewhat faded into an old british form, however, it still made women swoon.

His friend, who managed the bar, was also an immigrant, but from a completely different part of the world, Kenya.

His accent always confused Flint, but the man had reminded him that he was from Nairobi, Kenya.
Najeem Scott was the closest friend Flint had and he was entrusted with all the important responsibilities of the pub.

"One last interview captain, I assure you, this one will go smoothly, her resume was quite impressive," Najeem says.

Flint shakes his head at the sound of the nickname.

Captain.

"You better hope she impresses me, I've had it up to here with all these young girls who have never worked a day in their life," Flint scoffs.

"Well...this would be the girls first job...however her skills and grades show she works very hard," Najeem says wipping down the bar.

The door to the bar swings open as it hits the bell above the door, sending a ring to Flint's ears.

"We're closed," Flint calls out. Najeem shoots his friend a glare. Flint shrugs as he has given up on finding a new waitress.

"I'm here for an interview," A voice rings in Flint's ears, sweet innocent and almost melodical.

Clara moves through the bar, her nerves shaking her bones. She never liked talking to people but she needed a job and something to push her out of her shell. She had spent the morning preparing herself but damn, her tremors began instantly.
Dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans that look similar to tight slacks, a clean white tshirt and a black blazer that she borrowed from her only friend. She wore her best shoes, a pair of dark brown ankle length wedged boots. Her long golden hair in beach waves.

Her pale skin glistened in the sunlight that came through the bar windows. She swallowed hard as she approached the tall man standing in front of the bar.

The man was tall, and his build was very large, muscular, broad shoulders. He had hair that was longer than most men, ending just below the ears, however currently he had the top half of his dark hair tied back. His beard and mustache were red however. He looked as if stress had aged him, not time. Worry lines on his forehead and some lines near his crisp green eyes. These eyes stared her down with intimidation however unintentional.

Flint looked down at the small, yet tall, scrawny woman that approached him. She was beyond his own comprehension. It was like someone was speaking to him in a foreign language, trying to tell him how to drive a car using a bike. His face completely bemused at how one girl could be so beautiful.

His heart pounded in his chest, his head slightly ached as the sunlight hit his eyes through the shudders.
He squinted trying to examine her face but what interrupted by Najeem's voice.

"This is Mr. Adler, the owner. He will be interviewing you today. Don't be intimidated by his looks, he is quite the dumbass," Najeem laughs.

"And you shouldn't get used to Mr. Scott's presence, as he will no longer have a job if he doesn't watch that mouth of his," Flint says glaring at Najeem for his sailors mouth then back at the beautiful young woman.
She is nervous, beyond nervous, and it is obvious to Flint as she gives out a forced giggle.

"Follow me, we'll start the interview in my office," Flint says turning on his heels.

The woman follows him through the storage room and into his office.
He gestures to the chair in front of his desk.

"Please, make yourself comfortable."

Flint moves around his desk and sits at his chair.
The girl is completely stunned by the decorated office. Moving awkwardly to her seat and sits straight and attentively.

"You are..." Flint grabs the last file from his desk and glances back at the other stack of files that held resumes of faild interviewees.

"Clara Bowen. Eighteen years old, straight A student with a...4.0 GPA?" Flint's eyebrows raise in shock.
Clara nods verifying the information.

"You know how to work a POS system?" He asks, again in shock.

"Yes, my aunt showed me how, she owns a reaturant on the opposite side of town," She explains.

"Have you had any experience with working a till?" He asks.

"No, she just showed me how to work the POS system."

"Well, that's alright...We like organization and structure here."

"You mean you run a tight ship?" She asks amused. Flint smiles for the first time all day...in fact for the first time in a while.

"Yes...a very tight ship."