chapter 1a - in which kara can't stop snacking

Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting! Salad fork hit champagne flute and the murmuring in the hotel’s fanciest event room died down.

“Ladies, if you please?” expressed a woman with expensively-cut steel-grey hair and thousand-Euro heels. “The film you are about to watch explains the requirements of the roles that Cetocean Cruises is looking to fill. We will then hold some skills sessions to discuss your special talents, before moving through to the audition space itself in about an hour or so.”

Kara Suesse looked at her watch. An hour? Come on. To read some lines? She was going to miss lunch. Kara had to be back in uniform and on shift in 90 minutes. Ugh. Should have had a bigger breakfast. Something made her look down at where her fanciest dress was swelling outward just a little bit more than it was meant to. No. Maybe not. Whatever though, an hour was some bull. The agent continued and she looked back.

“The client has laid on a buffet, so please feel free to get yourselves something now, or at any time during the session.”

With that the large projector screens lit up and neatly hidden speakers played an elegantly modern take on Vivaldi. Stock footage flowed across the screen of rich people laughing over untouched meals at rustic restaurants on cliché Mediterranean clifftops.

“Cetocean Cruises” said the voiceover “The ultimate in ultra-premium escapism.”

Kara groaned and wondered how soon was too soon to head to the buffet. First up shows initiative, right? Was that important here? Why were these people so cagey on the job details? She was sat near the back anyway. Might as well.

She sucked in her tummy a little and stood up straight as she walked to the marble counter. It was a nice feeling to not want to slouch. By the looks of it, everyone in here was 177cm (5’11”) or more. The casting call had asked for taller women. A whole roomful of long legs and perfect posture.

She crept like a cat to avoid attracting attention. Carefully took a plate off the rack and put it down on the runners. CLICK. Heavy plate and hard marble made more noise than she’d expected. Some heads turned. She was certain she heard a tut. Well tut you too! Bet you’re not off for a 12 hour shift after this are you? Girl’s gotta eat some time! And there, look, respectable dainty portions. You just watch rich people on their stupid cruises.
The film had moved on, apparently, to routes offered.

“…operating three routes: a 9-day historical voyage through the Orient; our 15-day American extravaganza; and a 21-day tour of the European capitals of culture!”

Sure. The ones on the coast, at least. They’d never see the sort of culture Kara knew. Black Forests and Black Forest Cakes. God. She could almost taste it. No matter how many so-called gateaux she tried (and there had been a few…ok, more than a few), it wasn’t the same.

Although, whatever that last things at the buffet had been. The little round crispy things. They had been pretty good. Should have taken more of those.

“…and a level of service that keeps our travelers returning to us again and again. And since we limit each journey to 40 guests…”

Wait, what?

“…each is happy to invest their share in achieving a perfect experience. Cabins start at €140,000 for the shorter journeys…”

Kara laughed out loud, but managed to catch it by the tail and pretend it had been a cough all along. That’s…house money. On a boat trip. The fuck is wrong with some people? No wonder the casting line-up looked like Swedish royalty. They probably were. Jesus. Well, they can stretch to another plate then, can’t they. This time she was ready for the click and timed it to go with some music. And took a generous helping of the little round crispy things. And two more for the walk back to her seat.

“...world-class acts and entertainers providing relaxation, enthrallment and hedonism…”

The screen showed a muscular firebreather lighting up the stary night sky, a close-up magician pulling an emerald green snake out of some woman’s hair. There was a flash of a woman, scantily clad in gold and linen, draped over a shays…chays…chaise…a leany-down-sofa-thing, and then a tattooed woman mixing cocktails with the sort of flair that makes mere mortals feel like they no longer know how to open a screw-top jar.

Oh. Ok. That sort of ‘Special Skills’. The casting call maybe should have been more specific. Over 175cm? Check. Willing to travel? Check. Cultured? Checkerooni. Special skill? Speaking four languages and the ability to juggle no longer seemed to cut it. Can chuck a little round crispy thing into my mouth from here, though. See? No? Hmm.

“…is why Cetocean Cruises serves more of the world’s elite than any other platform. We believe that the best way to motivate is through reward and we offer a generous package for all of our team members. We are very selective, but we invite you…”

And there was the kicker. Every single online review rated performance/hosting gigs for Cet Cruises as some variation on the theme of “*****- Very Highly Paid”. And Kara could REALLY use some of that right about now. Ok. Game plan. Distract from lack of special skill like…neurosurgery or foot archery by staying away from the skills discussions. Just get to reading lines and looking great and prove that you’re the best performer! Simple. She looked down at only the front half of her feet. Also, probably don’t go back to the buffet again. Or no more than one more time. Click went the plate on the marble, and she sat down with a full plate of her favourites. A couple of minutes later the presentation wrapped up and the woman in the sharp suit and the steel-grey bob-cut was speaking again.

“Thank you all. I’m sure you’ll want to discuss your skills with my colleagues, so when you’ve finished your lunch, we’ll be expecting you to come and have a word at these two tables”

Kara looked down. A plan presented itself. Just don’t finish lunch. Stay here. Don’t eat the food. Don’t get drawn into the special skills discussion. Perfect. She watched the other girls gather a little plates of green leaves and sit in small groups. Listened to their various chatters about…nothing…these people were talking about nothing. She forced herself to ignore her plate of food. Not too tricky, this was her second. Wait. Third?

“You’re not eating, dear. If you’re finished, please come over and talk with my colleagues” Steel bob had snuck up on her.

“I…ah…no, sorry…I’m just a slow eater…er…easily distracted,” stammered Kara.

Steel bob’s gaze dropped to her happily full middle and then up again to look her straight in the eye.

“Is that so?” she raised an eyebrow, “In that case, of course, please enjoy your food. I’ll make sure I keep an eye on you to remind you to come over when you’re finished. Bon appetite.”

Kara watched those thousand-Euro heels stalk away. Change of plan. Eat whenever Steel bob’s looking this way. Which…oh…she is. Kara shoveled a couple of mouthfuls in to put on a show of being hungry. Steel bob smiled to herself and looked away. Kara got another couple of big forkfuls in for good measure. God this stuff was good. She looked up to find at least three of the salad-eaters staring at her and reflexively sucked in her stomach. They looked away instantly. Great. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t. Kara read some of the info pack she’d been given and tried to eat slowly.