Tony Acardi: Pregame Start
"Table 3. Three enchiladas, two chicken, one beef.""Yes sir!"
Tony ran for the fridge and grabbed some chicken and beef. It wasn't one of those super-busy days where people were piling into the doors, but it wasn't one of those days where the restaurant seemed barren either. It was a typical day, with a steady flow of customers. Not overwhelming, but he couldn't let himself get lazy, because he was always a few minutes away from another order coming in. These types of days were the norm, and he had acclimatized to them by now.
He couldn't take all the credit, though. He was just a cook. He wouldn't be where he was if there wasn't a good crew helping him get where he was, and every crew needed a captain. That's where Arturo Ibarra came in. Art was a big guy, and he had one of those voices that made everyone shut up and listen. He wasn't mean or anything, he just had a sternness that you just knew had to come from years of life experience. Art knew his shit, that was for sure. He handled the kitchen like he was born to lead a brigade, and everyone in the front and back of the house respected him. And considering the guy opened up a restaurant with his own money and no one but his family to rely on ten years ago, and they were still running strong today, Tony couldn't help but be impressed. The fact that the guy had a pretty badass mustache to boot was just icing on the cake.
He started preparing the fillings as Maritza came to the pass to grab a plate of quesadillas. She was a rotund woman whose smile never seemed to leave her face. She was Art's wife, and like him, she had been involved with the restaurant since the beginning. While he kept the kitchen running properly, she took care of the front of the house. She had one of the warmest personalities Tony had ever seen, and was always smiling or laughing with the customers while she took their orders. It was that kind of customer service that kept people coming back he way they did. Well, that and the awesome food, of course.
When Tony started pounding out the masa, Zaira entered the kitchen through the side door with an empty glass in hand, and poured a serving of ice water from a pitcher that sat on a small counter specifically designated for it and nothing else. He was distracted by her for a moment, but didn't lose a step in the cooking process.
Zaira... damn, now there was someone he had a lot to say about. Of course, the first thing he would say was the first thing he thought about when he met her. She had a body that filled itself out just right, and he didn't know what she did with her hair, but it always looked amazing, like it flowed with her every movement. But she wasn't just beautiful, she was smart as hell too, and Tony found that even more enticing. She knew the whole restaurant back to front, and she had every single recipe in the kitchen committed to memory. She had a business degree too, which was probably why she was the manager. Hell, she was even in charge of advertising, and she was pretty solid at that too.
Tony couldn't deny that he had a major crush on her. He wasn't sure if anyone in the restaurant knew, but he wouldn't be surprised if they did. He never actually made a move, though. For one, she was twenty-six. That wasn't to say that Tony was put off by the idea of dating an older woman, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't be interested in a guy who hadn't graduated high school yet. And second, she was Art and Maritza's daughter. Now he loved all three of them. After all, they were great people. Even so, that didn't make the concept of asking out his boss' daughter any less awkward.
He rolled up the tamales and let them into their pots to boil. This was the time to make sure that everything else was just right. The refried beans seemed almost ready to go, so it was good to see that they were still running on time. He took the tamales off the heat and very carefully took them out of the pot, making sure not to tear the wrappers. He placed them on their respective plates. One serving of chicken on one, the rest of the chicken on the second, and the beef on the third. He let them sit for a minute while he added the refried beans on the side of each plate, and brought them up to the pass for Art to inspect. The large man gave each plate a quick yet throrough look with his trained eyes before giving his appraisal.
"Very nice. Table 3 is up!"
Tony grinned at another order well done. He headed back to his station and waited for the next order to come in. Then the cycle would begin anew, over and over until the end of the shift. Like a well-oiled machine or some similar metaphor.
(Tony Acardi continued elsewhere...)