“Coming out now, Boss,” he shouted back. “One minute.”
I mentally readjusted my timing. Brick ovens made for some damn good pizza, but the temperature wasn’t as consistent as an industrial oven—especially on a busy day. Luckily the alpha manning it was one of the best and would keep the food coming.
One waitress ran out with the food, while another came in to grab a side of something or other. The ticket machine printed out a new order, and I snagged it.
“Order in!” I announced. “Table twelve. Two kiddy cheese, one Reuben, one Philly. Let me know when those pizzas go in.”
My kitchen crew acknowledged the order, and I nodded. We were slammed, but my people worked like a fucking machine. Everybody knew what they had to do, and knew I trusted them to get it done.
My lead waitress and assistant manager, Mandy, ducked around the corner that separated the floor from the kitchen. “Three wanted me to send their compliments to the chef.”
“Did you hear that everybody?” I asked. “Three said y’all rock!”
A cheer went up, and I smiled. It was a small thing, but I always made sure my team knew when they were appreciated. It helped morale and reminded them who they were cooking for.
Orders came in and plates left the kitchen in an almost choreographed dance. Everything was timing and rhythm. Had enough time elapsed since appetizers went out to allow a table to finish them? When did I need to have the grill fire sandwiches so they were plated at the same time pizza came out of the oven?
Eventually, the dance of the hour started to slow as customers left to return to work, and I was able to turn the job of expeditor over to one of the cooks. Then I grabbed a clipboard from my office and headed to the walk-in cooler to do inventory.
I took a few seconds to allow my glasses to clear and to breathe as the chill air surrounded me, a welcome reprieve from the heat of the kitchen mingling with that of summer. There were times when it was almost stifling, and I carried enough extra weight to make it even more uncomfortable.
Bins of vibrant vegetables, containers of sauces, and proofing pizza dough lined one wall of the walk-in, with dairy and meats on the opposite side. A smaller shelf sat along the back of the unit, underneath the fan, that held any prepared foods.
I started with the veggies, checking quantities and making sure that nothing was going bad. I ensured that the oldest stock was at the front so it was used first, then noted how much I needed to order.
I was halfway through figuring out my tomato order when the door opened. I glanced up to see the restaurant owner—Gerald—standing there.
“Hey,” I said, marking how many cases of tomatoes I needed, then I turned to him. “What’s up?”
The older alpha smiled. “Just checking in. Figured it’s good for me to show my face around here once in a while.”
I laughed. “I hear ya. Wanna stay here in the cold, or chat in the office?”
He chuckled. “Office, please. My old bones don’t like the drastic change between outside and in here anymore.”
“You’re not old,” I protested as tucked my clipboard under my arm. “Door!”
I followed him to the office, where he decided to sit in a guest chair. I took a seat and we studied each other for a second before he started.
“How are you on staffing?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Still need a driver or two. I’d like to get delivery times down. I’d also like to bring in another evening server, maybe they can double for one of the delivery spots.”
He nodded. “Do it. Also plan to bring in a daytime temp before the holidays, with potential for full-time.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Care to let me in on what you’re thinking?”
He chuckled. “Two things. I want there to be plenty of coverage so people can take off for the season. Also, it looks like the approvals for the patio are finally going to come together. Construction should start next month. It probably won’t be done until October, but we might be able to get a few weeks of use before it gets cold. Depending on the weather, I’m considering heaters as well.”
I chewed my bottom lip. “Think the kitchen can handle it?”
“What do you think?”
I rubbed my beard. “We’ll probably have some leeway for dinner since people are more relaxed. But lunch can already get hectic to get all the food out before customers have to leave.”
“Would simplifying the menu make up the difference?”
I considered the question, then shook my head. “No. We don’t have anything that would make that big an impact. Can we close a few inside tables instead? It’ll relieve the strain, and give us somewhere to move people to if the weather gets bad.”
