Ezra
"Would you like any sauces with that Sir?" I asked the older man as I held the little note pad in my hand and wrote with a small red pencil that had an eraser at the end.
"No," he mumbled rudely before handing me the menu.
"Thank you," I sighed but remembered to keep a friendly smile on my face even though I wished I could knock the menu against his to teach him some manners.
After popping the menu back in its dedicated slot at the front of the small café, I made my way back to the kitchen. "Can I have one large hake with chips? No sauces," I called out to the chef whose name I still could not remember from the top of my head. I quickly peaked down to his name tag on his white chef''s coat that already had stains of grease. "Heard Frankie?"
"Yes Ez," the man probably a few years older than me smiled as prepared a fresh fish for the rude customer.