“Good job, Chef,” I tell him, and he swells.
Tracy races back in and her eyes widen when she sees the plate. “This looks so good!” She rushes back out with it, and I call out Charlie’s next order to him.
“Green Queen, Charlie, I need two all day, Chef.”
“Yes, Chef!”
Samuel and I keep the hot station under control, a steady rush of tickets coming in and dishes going out as our very first lunch rush gets underway.
“Housekeeping!” I call, reminding all two of our staff to clean their stations before a small mess turns into a large disaster.
“Heard,” they both respond.
The first cleared plates have come back, and I hear Dishy singing along to a ’90s country song I don’t recognize as he works the dish station.
When the swinging door opens again, it’s not the Weiss sister I was hoping to see. “Compliments to the chef.” Rory’s head floats in the doorway, straight dark hair swaying around her as she wiggles her fingers at Charlie and Samuel, with a wink to me.
“Thank you, Chef,” Charlie replies automatically, to a round of laughter. “I mean Rory. Thank you, Rory.”
“Think that’s the first time I didn’t make you chicken fingers and fries,” Samuel says to her, grinning beneath his thick mustache.
“I might steal a bite of the baby’s later,” Rory says, lips lifting at one corner.
Stepping in front of her line of sight, I clear my throat. “Out of my kitchen, Rory. You’re distracting my chefs.”
Rory gives a mock salute and backs out, leaving us to make it through the stack of tickets we’re buried under.
I wish Lexi were coming back here, not because we need help from our manager—the back of house is operating as smooth as we could hope for—but because I want to see the flush of excitement on her face. The day we’ve been prepping for, I’m dying for the sight of her, to see how she’s managing the thrill of it all.
Every time we get a second between tickets, I poke my head out to the dining room, in the name of seeing how diners are enjoying their food.
The first time I did, all I could focus on was the way Lexi was laughing with a customer at the POS as she checked them out.
The second and third times, she was at the server station, helping with side work or refilling water glasses as all three servers ran from table to table.
With a break in orders, I go for a fourth glimpse, holding the door open all the way so I can lean against it and soak in the scene in front of me. The dining room is nearly cleared out, the lunch rush just about over. Lexi stands by the front door,clapping and cheering the waitstaff, who are circled around her, looks of pride and accomplishment on their faces.
She’s got that energy you want in a head coach. Encouraging, without being soft. Hard enough to keep people on their toes, with a big enough heart they feel appreciated for it.
Meant to be a manager at a place like this, if you ask me. Her passion radiates from her in every interaction I’ve seen her have today. Nothing beneath her, not too good for any of the dirty work that comes with a life in the hospitality industry.
“Good news, chefs. Now’s your chance to reset your stations,” I announce to the kitchen staff, letting the door swing shut behind me.
But I spoke too soon, because it’s only minutes of downtime before about ten tables get sat at once. We’re firing on all stations, I’m having to run expo and help Samuel on the grill, and poor Charlie is doing his best to stay afloat over there.
But it’s Dishy who’s struggling the hardest.
“Chef!” he calls to me.
Craning my neck, I see the piles of plates, bowl, and cookware forming a dangerous, towering cityscape around him at his station.
“Where’s your backup?” I ask him.
“I let him take lunch, I thought we were done, Chef.”
If my hands weren’t swapping between four pans and nine tickets, I’d put them on my hips to stare over at him with more than words can say. But no time right now.
“On it,” I tell him.
