Delivery Troubles(Part 3)
The kitchen, usually a haven of controlled activity, was now a scene of pandemonium. Jasper, typically the epitome of calm, was engaged in a heated argument with Travis, their voices rising above the din of clattering pots and pans. Mario, ever the peacemaker, was attempting to mediate between the two of them, though his efforts seemed to be in vain.
Meanwhile, the rest of the staff moved about in a frenzy, rushing to fulfill orders and keep up with the demands of the bustling restaurant. Plates clattered, voices overlapped, and I found myself frozen in place, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the scene before me.
As I surveyed the chaos, a sense of panic washed over me. This was not how I had envisioned my return.
"Hey! What the hell is going on? What in the world is going on and why does it smell like we're cooking for an episode of 'The Golden Girls'?" I intervened, breaking through the commotion with my question. Surveying the cutting boards, I quickly discerned that something was amiss. The familiar scents of our usual dishes were absent, replaced instead by an aroma that seemed better suited to a gathering of octogenarians from a sitcom.
My inquiry hung in the air, prompting a momentary pause in the chaotic activity as everyone turned to face me, their expressions a mix of surprise and apprehension. It was clear that my return had thrown a wrench into their plans, but I needed answers.
Mario rushed to my side, his voice frantic as he spilled out the chaotic events that had unfolded in my absence.
"I'm sorry Alex, it's all my fault," he began, his tone heavy with guilt. "They came and unloaded the stuff, and I looked through the top box but then our line cook came in with a bloody nose, and I was the only manager around still. And then the delivery guy started getting all pissy about how he was going to be late for his next delivery, and I was about to give the jerk a piece of my mind, but then he sneezed blood and crap all over so I had to clean it up and the driver was tapping his foot at me like I was tweezing my eyebrows or something."
I raised an eyebrow, urging him to get to the point. "Cut to the chase, Mario."
"All of the other boxes had the wrong stuff," he confessed, his expression crestfallen. "I'm so sorry Alex."
My frown deepened as I processed his words. "What do you mean, the wrong stuff?"
Mario listed off a litany of incorrect items, each one more ludicrous than the last. As he spoke, frustration bubbled up inside me, threatening to spill over. But then Jasper, ever the calming presence, interjected with a reassuring smile and a touch of humor.
"Like instead of the ribeyes, we have baby back ribs. Instead of baby spinach, we have collard greens. Instead of pancetta, we have fatback, and you are damn lucky that I grew up around people from the south and know how to use all this stuff," he said, his grin infectious despite the dire circumstances.
The tension in the room momentarily eased as I realized that perhaps all was not lost. With Jasper's expertise and Mario's resourcefulness, we might just be able to salvage the situation after all.
As the dishwasher began stuffing the cardstock in front of the original menus, I couldn't help but snatch one off the top of the stack. The dishwasher shot me a hearty glare, but I brushed it off, too preoccupied with the impending chaos to care about their disapproval. With trembling hands, I glanced over the new menu that Jasper had brought to the table.
To my surprise, the ideas Jasper had introduced were innovative and promising. There was a boldness to his Southern-inspired dishes that piqued my interest, even amidst the frenzy of nerves that coursed through me. As I skimmed through the offerings, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement.
On one hand, I was eager to see how our customers would respond to the new menu and the fresh flavors it promised. On the other hand, I couldn't shake the gnawing uncertainty that accompanied changing the menu in the midst of service. I trusted Jasper to a certain extent, but the prospect of serving dishes I had never sampled before left me feeling like I was flying blind—and I didn't like it one bit.
"Travis, man the front room, make sure our 'face' has a good front. We'll work it out here in the back, okay?" I instructed, my voice tinged with a mixture of urgency and determination.
"Alex, I've got to go to work so take it easy okay? I've already told Mario that very thing he needs to know about southern cooking. I also don't want you passing out again," Jasper's arms enveloped me in a tight embrace, his concern palpable in every word.
I leaned back, meeting Jasper's gaze and finding solace in the depths of his emerald eyes. "I promise, I won't overdo it," I reassured him.
"I'll watch him, Jasper, don't worry," Mario chimed in, his voice a steady reassurance amidst the whirlwind of emotions.
With a nod, Jasper exited the kitchen, leaving behind a sense of calm in his wake. I had a restaurant to run, and nothing—not even a sliced finger or a botched delivery—was going to stand in my way.
I turned to Mario, pulling on a latex glove to cover my bandages, "looks like I'm your sous chef tonight. This is not my baby, so tell me where you want me for this surprise southern menu."
The situation with Newton infuriated me beyond belief. It was clear that someone, likely my sister, was behind this sabotage attempt. But I wasn't about to let it slide. Newton would face the consequences of messing with my business. Once Travis spread the word about Newton's incompetence, they'd lose clientele and my sister would have made herself a new enemy.
Despite the initial setback, we turned the situation around to our advantage, showcasing our adaptability and creativity. Our quick thinking and resourcefulness impressed not only our customers but also the media, earning us a five minute segment on the evening news. We managed to keep up with orders, maintaining impeccable food quality and ensuring that our kitchen ran smoothly. Travis cleverly attributed our success to a different supplier, laying the groundwork for Newton's downfall.
I found myself constantly overwhelmed by the success of our restaurant. It was a rollercoaster of emotions—scary yet exhilarating. Knowing that most small businesses like ours don't experience this level of success made it even more surreal. Whenever I fretted over the uncertainties of the business, Jasper was always there with his reassuring words. He would remind me that while the odds might be against us, being part of the 10% that thrives is a testament to our hard work and dedication.
As I watched the security footage of the delivery the next day, I couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration as I watched the scene unfold on the screen. The memories of that chaotic day flooded back with perfect clarity—the van careening down the alleyway, the tires screeching as it came to a sudden stop, and the sight of our order abandoned on the street.
"Hey, can you rewind that and make the screen bigger?" I leaned forward, resting one hand on the table, my eyes locked on the screen. "Right there, that's perfect, now play it back again please?"
As the van stopped, a woman with wild brown hair approached the driver, passing him a wad of cash before turning away. Too bad for her, she turned toward the very clear camera.
Emily.
My frustration surged as I realized the truth behind the botched delivery. Newton was being paid off by her, and it all made sense now—the deliberate attempt to sabotage our restaurant.
"I knew something was fishy about that delivery," I muttered through gritted teeth, my anger simmering beneath the surface. That jerk Newton was being paid off by her.
"Do me a favor, send that footage to my email okay?" I demanded, my tone sharp with determination.
"Sure, sure," he replied lazily, a smile playing on his lips. "I'll do it now."
Getting ready to close up, I took Mario's words to appreciate the staff more to heart and had decided to approach a dishwasher I'd been watching all week long. I decided to acknowledge her dedication and outstanding work ethic and now just seemed like the right opportunity.
"Hey Jessie," I began, wanting to express my gratitude for her hard work. She turned to face me, her expression reserved but attentive. "I just wanted to thank you for doing such a good job. I really appreciate all that you do. I know it's not a glamorous job, but without you, the kitchen would totally fall apart."
Jessie's brow furrowed slightly, as if she wasn't used to receiving such direct praise. She seemed to be considering her response carefully before speaking.
"I...uh...thanks. It's nice to have a job where people just let me work and don't...well, I like working here. Everyone here is really nice."
Her gravelly voice conveyed a sense of sincerity, and I was glad to hear that she felt comfortable in our work environment.
"Well, that's good to hear, because we like having you here. You really are a valuable asset to the restaurant, so thanks."
Despite my words of appreciation, Jessie's forehead remained creased, leaving me puzzled. Typically, such praise would elicit a smile or some sign of gratitude. Nevertheless, she nodded in acknowledgment and returned to her task at the sink.
As Mario bid me goodnight and left, I sank into my chair, feeling a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.
A soft knock on the table drew me back from my work, and I was a little surprised to see Jessie standing there. She looked terribly uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other. She brought her hands in front of her, wringing her fingers tightly together.
"Oh, hey Jessie. What's up," I asked, trying to ease the tension. She looked down and seemed to be muttering something under her breath.
"Um, actually I was wondering if I could talk to you." Her tone was cautious, like she didn't want to say something but needed to. I was going to have to pry this out of her.
"You're not going to quit on me, are you?" I laughed lightly, hoping to break some of the tension.
"Uh no, well, you might want me to. I just need to tell you something." I could see the battle she was fighting, and I began to wonder if maybe I should've given more weight to Jasper's warning about vetting my workers.
"Have a seat, I'm listening." She lumbered over to the chair opposite my desk and sat down.
"I wasn't lying when I said I liked working here. I really do, but I haven't been completely honest with you." Alarm bells and warning flags were going off in my head, and I could feel the rising tide of sick panic bubbling in my stomach.
"Go on," I prompted, trying to maintain a calm exterior despite my inner turmoil.
"I used to work for Newton. I was his office manager, I know that Emily Todd paid him to mess up your deliveries." The curiosity began to turn into rage as I realized that she was a plant and could've already ruined everything. But there was something about her, about this whole encounter, that screamed that I should not jump to conclusions. So I fought the urge, determined to hear her out. I let her cry in the strained silence until she continued.
"When it was clear that Newton's was going to go belly-up, Emily asked me to work for her. She wanted me to get close to the owner, who she thinks is Travis, to help her bring down your place since it's impacting her restaurant."
I was seething, barely hanging on to my emotions. I wanted to scream, cry, and hit something or someone really hard.
"But since I started working here, I finally feel valued. I was always treated like garbage, constantly overlooked. I knew Emily was using me, but I needed the money. After working for you though, I've felt needed, and I like that. No one is trying to mess with anyone else here. Everyone is on the same team, and I like that."
She huffed out a breath and continued, "I guess what I'm saying is that I want to help you. Emily had painted the owner of this place as some kind of evil witch that stole her best recipes and screwed her over. But I've come to see that that's not the case. You may be a bit hard to get along with, but you don't deserve the crap she's trying to pull over on you. I want to help you get her off your back."
I sat there for a long moment, trying to sort through what she was telling me. She was in a very unique position and had just yielded quite a bit of power to me by letting me know her initial motivations for working here.
She had nothing, so why lie?
Travis was going to be very happy to know we had a ready-made double agent, but the nagging question was still out there.
"How do I know you won't double-cross me just like you're doing to Emily right now?" I asked. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked sad.
"I suppose you don't. But believe me when I say that Emily is a piece of scum. I hate working for her as much as I hated working for Newton. You can trust me, I swear on my daughter's life." She stood up to leave, and I was hit with the gravity of her oath. "Oh, and I'm glad that you're doing okay. You're a really sweet kid."
"I'm going to trust you as well as let you keep your job, but know that if you mess with me and reveal the true owner, you will regret it. Don't ever contact them again," She nodded and looked up with a glint of hope in her eye.