el_torro_staas (el_torro_staas) wrote in nearside_rpg, @ 2010-01-22 20:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: shawn maddox, character: staas mooren, location: el torro mexican restaurant, player: christina, player: ginger, status: complete |
Who: Staas and Shawn
Where: El Torro
When: Friday afternoon, around three
What: Interview
Rating: PG-13
Warning: It's STAAS and SHAWN. The swear jar shall be full.
Summary: Shawn needs a job. Staas needs bussers and dishwashers.
Staas watched happily as the flames shot up from the pan. He was hot as hell there in the kitchen, but he couldn't have cared less. It wasn't often at all he got to be behind the stove and shit, and he grinned as he flipped the special order he was working on. The restaurant didn't widely advertise that they would take requests, but he always liked to please his customers, and he did what he could for them. Not only would it result in a large tip for his staff, but it would also hopefully result in happy, repeat customers.
But his chef was busy enough at the moment, and though Staas didn't mind taking special orders, he knew it made it harder on the kitchen staff. So he tried to make them himself, and ease the burden. Or, if it was something he wasn't entirely familiar with he'd take the regular menu orders, and ask the chef to handle the fancy ones. But this one he knew how to do.
It was early still, only three o'clock, but Staas had put in a full day, and his evening manager would be in at four, at which point Staas would be taking off for the evening, going to get the kids from daycare and stopping at the Red Stripe for some milk. He'd done the schedule for the next two weeks, had finally got the insurance company to realize they were being stupid dicks, and had tallied the payroll for everyone. All in all a good and productive day.
He plated the dish, added the sides, and slid it up on the shelf for the waiter to take out. And then he glanced off to the side, where there were a pile of dishes waiting on the counter and in the industrial sink. Fuck. He'd hired one person already, but it seemed Lino had done the job of three washers, and the rest of the staff couldn't keep up. Everyone was pitching in when they could--he had some seriously good people on his staff and he loved them all--and now, it seemed, it was his turn.
With a sigh he walked to the sink, tying an apron tightly around him. He didn't want to go home sloppy and wet. He put the waiting gloves on, and got to work.