“You know, make my point, fire someone. And then once they’ve all realized I’m serious, let the fired person come back to work again?”
He shook his head slowly, as if still trying to process my question. “That defeats the entire purpose of trying to get them to respect you.”
He was right, but I obviously couldn’t tell him that—his ego was big enough already.
“So, you’re saying… just walk in there and fire the first person that doesn’t listen to me?”
“Or talks back or rolls his eyes or breathes in a way that you don’t like. But yeah, that’s the general idea.”
“And as soon as I ruin that one person’s life, everyone else will magically listen and follow orders?”
“You’re not ruining anyone’s life. You’re doing your job. Just like these idiots working for you should be doing their job. They’re ruining their lives by being entitled assholes. You’re the boss. Regardless of how you got the job or whether or not they believe you deserve it, you’re. The. Boss. Which means they follow protocol or they find a different job. Have any of them given you the impression they’re looking for other work?”
I thought seriously about his question. Had they? They’d been consistently late all week. They’d been consistently negligent and disobedient and willfully obtuse. But they’d shown up every single day without fail.
That gave me the impression they didn’t want a different job, they just didn’t want me at their current job.
But if I started firing people willy-nilly, they might change their mind.
Truthfully, I hated what was happening right now. I also couldn’t man the kitchen alone.
“Have you ever used this tactic?” I asked him, hoping he would give me an honest answer.
He was silent for a few seconds before admitting, “I’ve never had to. My employees have always respected me.”
His words burned through me, ripping fresh wounds open even wider. “Oh.”
“That said,” he continued, “I have dealt with others not taking me seriously. I know what it’s like to be young in business. It’s hard to get anyone to take you seriously, but especially your peers. Sometimes people behave the way they’re supposed to and things go the way they’re supposed to go. And sometimes you have to force your way in the door and carve out your own place. It’s not the fun way to do things, but it’s worth it.” He held my gaze. “If you love what you do, it’s worth it.”
The burn he’d set off inside me turned into a consuming fire driven by desire and a conviction I didn’t even know I had. I wanted this job. More than anything I had ever wanted in my life.
To be fair, I had lived a mostly charmed existence and I had never had to want for much. In a materialistic way. Regardless, I knew how to work. I wouldn’t think too hard about how this was the first real thing I wanted and couldn’t easily have.
Liar—my heart whispered.You wanted your dad to love you. How did that turn out?
You wanted your early twenties to end differently than they did.
I didn’t know if I’d ever recover from those years.
Ignoring the painful reminder that not everything I ever wanted was handed to me on a silver platter, I mentally built an armor of grit and steel. I had goddamn moxie. “You’re right,” I told him.
His lips twitched with what could only be described as an almost smile. I ignored how charming the expression was on his usually grumpy mug. “What was that?”
Rolling my eyes so he knew I didn’t enjoy repeating myself, I said, “You’re right. If I want them to pay attention to me, I have to go in guns blazing. I can’t let them bully me. I have to take this bull by the horns and fucking ride it.”
“Whoa, there were a lot of metaphors in there.” When I glared at him, he loosed a cocky grin. I retaliated with a harsher glare. “But I think you get the point.” Job apparently finished, he started to back away toward the street and the shop he’d left unmanned for the last twenty minutes. “If I go back to work, you’re not going to try to throw a brick through the window or something are you?”
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. “I don’t need inside anymore.”
His smile softened, punching me right in the girly bits with the sweetness of it. “Good luck, Baptiste. Don’t leave too much carnage tonight. Remember, you can’t run that kitchen alone.”
“I’m calling you in for backup should things go awry. If you can’t cook, you can at least be my character witness when the cops question what happened.” He laughed at my joke and it left me with a heady feeling of triumph. I remembered my manners at the very last second. “Uh, thanks, Vann.”
He waved me off like it was no big deal. And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he wasn’t being kind and considerate like I’d painted him in my mind. Maybe he was only talking a crazy lady down from the ledge.
It didn’t matter now. No matter the reason he’d chosen, it was advice I needed. It was advice I was going to use.
I would have to find the courage between now and three hours from now to do it. I could fire someone. I could.
