Bar Girl

by David Thompson

  ‘In an apartment block just a few streets down. You’ll be sharing. Two other girls,’ Nong said.

  ‘That’s okay. I’m used to sharing,’ Siswan told her.

  Siswan’s mind was racing. Four thousand a month! If she earned enough from lady drinks to buy her food, she was going to have a small fortune in just a few months. She decided that she would start sending Ped some money every month. It wouldn’t be a lot, but she knew it would help her cousin. One promise fulfilled.

  ‘So, do you want the job?’ Nong asked.

  ‘Yes. Yes, please,’ Siswan answered.

  ‘You have your ID?’

  Siswan pulled the card from her pocket. This would be the first test. Could she pass as an eighteen year old?

  ‘I’ll get one of the girls to show you the room. Come back in an hour. Bring your stuff.’ Nong passed back her ID card and turned back to stocking the shelves. She’d hardly given it a glance.

  Siswan almost ran back to the workhouse. She collected her clothes and bundled them in the old sheet as before. She carried her new outfit, still in its wrappings, carefully over one arm. When she went downstairs Ma was in her usual position behind the old desk.

  ‘I’m leaving,’ she said.

  ‘Yes?’ Ma said.

  ‘I thought I’d let you know,’ Siswan told her.

  The old woman gave her a dismissive grunt. It may have been a ‘goodbye’ or ‘good luck’ but Siswan didn’t think it was either. She turned and walked out through the main door for the last time.

  She wanted to go to the beach, to tell Karn what had happened, but she guessed her friend would have packed up and left. She would go there tomorrow. During the day.

  By the time she got back to the bar, a young looking girl was sat waiting for her. Nong introduced her as Nok. Nok wore a pair of jeans and a pink tee shirt and looked Siswan up and down before speaking.

  ‘So, you’re going to be the new cashier then?’ she said, in a voice that offered little in the way of welcome or kindness.

  ‘Yes. My name is Siswan,’ Siswan replied, with a smile.

  The girl didn’t say anything. Just raised an eyebrow before turning to Nong.

  ‘What room is she going to have?’

  ‘She can share with you and Joy,’ Nong told her.

  ‘Three? No way! The room’s not big enough!’ Nok argued.

  Nong suddenly turned on her. There was a flare of anger in her eyes.

  Siswan was shocked by the sudden animosity in her voice.

  ‘You’ll do what I say, Nok!’ she shouted.

  Nok backed down. Her face showed that she wasn’t pleased. She looked at Nong with pure hatred in her eyes. She stood up, looked to Siswan.

  ‘Come on,’ she said as she started to walk away.

  ‘Go with her, Siswan. Any trouble, you tell me.’ Nong nodded towards Nok’s back.

  Siswan collected her clothes together and ran after Nok. When she caught up she took a sideways glance at the girl she was going to be living with.

  ‘I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble,’ she said.

  ‘I hate that bitch!’ Nok replied.

  Siswan had to hurry to keep up. The girl strode forward. Her foul mood emphasised in her manner. Siswan didn’t say any more. When Nok showed her the room she was surprised at the size. The room was easily twice as big as her room in the workhouse. It was huge in comparison.

  Nok pointed to a bed in the corner. A bed with sheets and a pillow. Siswan couldn’t believe it. From the way Nok had reacted, she had expected a repeat of the workhouse room. This was wonderful. The walls even had paint and there was a huge array of mirrors fixed to the doors of real wardrobes. There was even a dressing table, with another mirror.

  ‘The bathroom is in there.’ Nok pointed to a door. ‘You’d better get changed and get back to work.’

  ‘What time do you start?’ Siswan asked her.

  ‘Later,’ Nok told her, as she stretched out on her own bed. ‘You’re the cashier. You start early.’

  Siswan laid her clothes out on the bed, unwrapped her new outfit, and then made for the bathroom. She was in for another surprise when she looked at the tiled walls, tiled floor and, especially, the shower head protruding from the wall. When she turned the tap beneath it, water sprayed out like rain. The water was still cold, but so refreshing!

  Siswan spent a long time getting really clean. She washed herself and then washed her clothes. Finally, when she was spotless, she left the bathroom and walked back into the main room.

  Nok was propped up against her pillows watching television. Siswan was fascinated. She’d seen televisions before, of course, but never up close. The images seemed so real.

  ‘Don’t just stand there,’ Nok said. ‘Get to work. The bitch will dock your pay if you’re late.’

  ‘Where can I hang my wet clothes?’ Siswan asked.

  ‘Why are they wet?’

  ‘I washed them.’ Siswan thought it a strange question to ask.

  ‘Well, don’t do that again. Just send them to the laundry. We don’t want smelly wet clothes hanging around here,’ Nok told her, as though she were talking to a child.

  Siswan thought about the girls working in the hot shed. The smell of the soap, the heat from the copper cauldrons.

  ‘I prefer to wash my own,’ she said.

  ‘If you have to, then put them out there.’ Nok pointed to a glass door, almost obscured by a full length curtain.

  Outside, Siswan found a small balcony. There was plenty of room to hang her few clothes. She wondered why Nok didn’t just wash her own. It was so easy.

  She opened up the small makeup box. Sat down at the dressing table and applied her makeup just as the old man had taught her. Not too much, not too little. She made herself look older. When she finished, she dressed in her new outfit and turned to walk out.

  ‘You won’t be a cashier for long,’ Nok said, looking at her.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Siswan asked.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ Nok turned her attention back to the television.

  Siswan made for the door. She paused before walking out. There were three beds in the room.

  ‘You said there were three of us here?’ she asked Nok, indicating the empty bed.

  ‘Joy.’ Nok didn’t bother to look up. ‘She’s with a farang.’

  Siswan left the room and walked back to the bar. When she arrived, Nong was still the only person there. The older woman, Siswan guessed twenty-nine, maybe thirty, was setting a small glass, filled with a brown liquid, on the monks shelf over the bar. To bring good fortune for the evening. She stepped down and gave a low wai to the image of the monk sat on the shelf.

  Siswan waited for her to finish. She didn’t want to interrupt. On her first night she wanted as much good fortune as the bar could get.

  When Nong turned and looked at her, there was a momentary look of surprise in her eyes. A slight shock, even.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go with farangs?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. Quite sure,’ Siswan answered.

  ‘Okay, but I think they are going to want to go with you!’ Nong told her. Siswan didn’t reply. She wasn’t too sure what Nong was talking about.

  The farangs had hundreds, maybe thousands, of girls to choose from. She didn’t expect them to want her.

  Nong started explaining how the bar system worked and showed her how to keep tabs on the check bins. Each customer got one each. Small wooden cups that Siswan was to put in front of each customer that sat down at the bar.

  ‘When anyone orders a drink, or drinks, put the top copy of the receipt in the check bin,’ Nong told her. ‘If we get busy, there may be a lot of calls from the girls for drinks. You have to stay on top of it all, okay?’
>
  ‘Yes. How do I know who’s drinking what?’ Siswan asked.

  ‘The girls will tell you. Just write out the receipt. Leave the copy in the book,’ Nong said.

  She told Siswan how lady drinks worked. How the drinks seldom matched the receipt and how to account for each one in the ledger.

  ‘The girls will tell you what to write on the receipt, then place a tick next to their name in the ledger. That way we can pay the girl her commission at the end of the night,’ Nong explained.

  Siswan didn’t see anything very complicated in the way the system worked. The receipts were all hand written. The ledger was just a list of names with spaces beside them. Nothing too taxing.

  ‘If any of the girls order their own drinks, don’t bother with a receipt, just jot the drink down next to their name. We can deduct the money from their commission, or their wages at the end of the month.’ Nong showed her the previous pages as an example.

  When Siswan went back through the ledger the figures, scrawled notes and pencilled jottings looked a mess. There was no way she could make any sense of it all.

  ‘Now, if someone rings the bell,’ Nong pointed to the brass bell hanging over the bar. ‘Make sure you list all the drinks on the receipt.’

  Siswan nodded her understanding. In truth she didn’t follow all that Nong told her. The system seemed easy at first sight but, after looking at the ledger again and checking the copies in the receipt book, it didn’t appear quite so simple.

  ‘What if one of the girls makes a mistake?’ she asked Nong.

  ‘What sort of mistake?’

  ‘Suppose she tells me one thing but actually pours out something different?’ Siswan explained.

  ‘That’s why you have to stay sober.’ Nong laughed. ‘You have to keep your eyes open.’

  Siswan suddenly realised that being the cashier wasn’t going to be that easy. The system employed by the bar was so simple, so easy, that just about anyone could abuse it. All they needed to do to earn more commission was write an extra tick in the ledger.

  ‘Now, when the delivery boys come, with drinks, peanuts or ice, you pay them from the till and put their receipts in this drawer, okay?’ Nong continued.

  Siswan looked in the drawer. There was a wad of receipts dating back almost four months. Most of them were just scrawled notes on blank pieces of paper.

  ‘At the end of the night, we pay the girls, or collect from them, deduct all the payments made for the deliveries, add up all the check bin receipts and work out how much should be in the till. If it all adds up we can go home,’ Nong told her.

  ‘What if it doesn’t add up?’ Siswan asked.

  ‘If there’s more money than there should be, that’s alright, if there’s less, it comes out of your wages.’ Nong smiled.

  Siswan looked into her eyes. The woman wasn’t joking.

  ‘How do you check the money against what should have been sold?’ she asked.

  ‘We don’t,’ Nong told her. ‘It’s not that important, as long as there’s a profit.’

  ‘But how do you know if everyone is getting a receipt when they’ve had a drink?’

  ‘That’s your job, Siswan.’ Nong laughed. ‘That’s why you’re here.’

  That night Siswan met all of the girls who worked the bar. Five of them altogether. Nong, who was in charge, Nok, who obviously thought she should be the leader, Joy, who turned up with a big farang on her arm, Bee, who hardly spoke and Mai, who never seemed to stop.

  Nok had changed from her jeans and tee shirt into a tight mini skirt, black, low-cut blouse and a pair of high heeled shoes that looked, to Siswan anyway, as though they would cripple their owners feet.

  Her mood had also changed. It was as though she was drunk. Not angry drunk, happy drunk. Almost silly. Childish, Siswan thought to herself. So different from the tired and sullen girl she had met earlier.

  The farang, who had turned up with Joy, drank virtually continuously. Siswan was amazed that any man could drink so many whiskies. By the time he and Joy left the bar, he could hardly stand, let alone walk. Joy laughed to her friends as she staggered away supporting the big foreigner.

  ‘No boom-boom for him tonight,’ she told everyone within earshot.

  Two more farangs turned up that night. One of them couldn’t keep his hands to himself. The girls didn’t seem to mind and Bee, who Siswan thought so quiet, happily sat and wriggled about on his lap.

  Siswan tried to listen to what the farangs were saying. Tried to understand a little of their language. She didn’t understand any of it. The only thing she noticed was that several words were repeated again and again. The same words interjected almost every other word. The more they drank the more she heard the same words repeated.

  She kept her eyes on who was drinking what. Kept the ledger and receipt book up to date and, when she needed to go to the toilet, even locked the books in the cash drawer. She was determined not to make any mistakes. She couldn’t afford them.

  At the end of her first night she and Nong added up the receipts against what was in the till. It all tallied.

  ‘Well done, Siswan.’ Nong smiled at her.

  ‘It wasn’t so hard.’ Siswan smiled back.

  ‘No, it was a quiet night,’ Nong said, almost with a sigh.

  ‘How often does it get busy?’

  ‘It used to be every night,’ Nong told her. ‘Now, who knows? Sometimes, when we expect a quiet night, it gets really busy.’

  ‘The two farangs tonight,’ Siswan asked. ‘They kept using the same words again and again.’

  ‘All the farangs talk that way, Siswan. They swear all the time,’ Nong told her.

  ‘What are swear words?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, words that the farangs use to express themselves,’ Nong replied.

  ‘What do they mean?’

  ‘Nobody knows anymore. Even the farangs don’t know. The words are just a part of their language.’ Nong laughed. ‘They were certainly interested in you, though.’

  ‘Really?’ Siswan was shocked. ‘I didn’t notice.’

  ‘You were too busy. Their eyes followed you everywhere and the things they said.’

  ‘What things? What did they say?’ Siswan was curious to know.

  ‘Oh, you know. Sex. That sort of thing. One of them said he’d never seen such a good looking bar girl.’

  ‘But I’m not a bar girl. I’m a cashier,’ Siswan said.

  ‘Doesn’t make a lot of difference to the farangs.’ Nong laughed. ‘They think they can buy any girl they see.’

  ‘Well, not this one,’ Siswan said, emphatically.

  ‘Don’t be too sure, Siswan,’ Nong told her. ‘I’ve seen many a young girl swayed by the lure of farang money.’

  Siswan didn’t reply. She knew in her heart that she wouldn’t be swayed. Wouldn’t be lured. There was no way to prove it. Just wait and see, she thought.

  ‘Anyway, it’s time to go,’ Nong said. ‘Let’s lock up.’

  Nong showed Siswan how the big wooden boards slotted across the back of the bar to secure the optics, stereo and television. The boards were fairly flimsy and the small padlocks holding them in place would be easy to remove if someone wanted to steal anything.

  After saying goodnight to Nong and offering her a wai, Siswan walked back to her new room. The sound of Nok, snoring in her sleep, welcomed her as she opened the door.

  The following morning, Siswan awoke early as usual and made her way to the beach to meet Karn. The old woman was pleased to see her and happy to sit and listen to Siswan’s account of her first night in the bar.

  When she spoke of Nok’s change in mood, Karn nodded in confirmation of what she knew.

  ‘Ya Baa,’ she said.

  ‘What’s that?’ Siswan as
ked.

  ‘Methamphetamine. A drug. Some of the girls take it to stay awake or to put them in a good mood. Some can’t work without it. Problem is, after the effects have worn off, you sleep all day long,’ Karn told her.

  Siswan didn’t understand why anyone needed to take a drug in order to work but at least now she understood why Nok had still been snoring that morning.

  ‘A lot of the girls don’t like what they do, Siswan. Some get drunk, others take drugs. Then it doesn’t seem so bad,’ Karn added.

  ‘But if they don’t like it, why do they do it?’

  ‘To pay the family. Take care of their children. All sorts of reasons. Maybe their boyfriends or husbands make them do it,’ Karn said. ‘Of course, there are also girls who enjoy what they do. Usually, they’re the ones who don’t need drink or drugs.’

  ‘Did you take drugs, Karn,’ Siswan asked, quietly.

  ‘No. I didn’t,’ the old woman answered. ‘That’s not to say I enjoyed what I did though,’ she added, with a laugh.

  ‘So, what happened? Why are you working the beach now?’ Siswan asked.

  ‘When I was young, and attractive to men, I came here to make money. I had a child and a family to support. Nothing too expensive. All I had to do was provide enough for food, clothes. The basics, really. It was easy then. Not too many girls worked the bars,’ Karn told her. ‘It was frowned upon by everyone. No one liked, or respected, a bar girl.’

  ‘Has that changed now?’ Siswan asked her.

  ‘A little, yes,’ Karn said. ‘It’s complicated. A bar girl loses respect from men. No man wants to pay a dowry for a bar girl. No family wants a bar girl to marry into it.’

  ‘So, she becomes an outcast, then?’ Siswan questioned.

  ‘For a while, yes. But if she makes a lot of money, returns to the village and buys back her respectability, then she becomes acceptable once again. It all depends on how much money she can make.’