The office was glass-windowed on three sides. It looked out onto the main part of the gargantuan main kitchen. The chef sat himself behind his desk, removed his hat and set it on the desk. Then he motioned for Bill to sit in one of the two chairs set facing him before the desk.
“Be easier to just fire you,” the chef said when Bill was sitting.
Bill didn’t say anything.
“That was gutsy,” the chef went on. “It was gutsy and you’re right. You work for me, not him.”
“He’s rude,” Bill said. “I bet he’s abusive to the waitresses too.”
“I need you to get along with him,” the chef said. “And I hope you can handle the broiler.”
“We did fifteen-hundred covers, twelve-hundred steaks on Mother’s Day this year. I did the broiler alone. I think I can handle what you can throw at me in that room, probably one hand tied behind my back.”
Bill hesitated to see if the chef would say anything. When he didn’t, he said, “I don’t mean to brag. What I just said is a fact. I can handle all the cooking that room requires, broiler, sauté and prep.”
“Good,” the chef said.
“I hope you’re going to talk to him,” Bill said.
“Caesar’s a good maître d’. But he’s got to answer for using the word demand. He might get away with that with his waitresses, but he stepped over a line. Don’t think he doesn’t know it.”
“Why? You think he knows it?”
“I’m sure he does. He works for me too. In practice, he’s his own boss because that room is somewhat separated from the main kitchen operation. But overall, all I have to do is say something and he’ll be gone.”
“So you have my back?”
“Not that simple. I do and I don’t.”
“And that means what?”
“It means when you show me you can do the job and you can get along with my other cooks, I’ll start to have your back. But no matter what, union rules say you’re on probation for ninety days.”
“Understood.”
“And I don’t want you bumping heads with Caesar. He’s good at what he does. So try to get along. If he bothers you, come to me. He was just trying to set the ground rules of control over there. You showed him he won’t control you. That was good. Now be nice. I’m gonna tell him to leave you alone. And I’m going to remind him that I have at least forty banquet waiters who want his job. I’m also going to remind him how hard it is to find a good, reliable cook.”
“Okay,” Bill said.
“Jimmy will let me know how you do. I’m not sneaking around peaking in on you. But I will remind Caesar you’re a college graduate and to treat you as such.”
“Thanks,” Bill said.
“Go cook,” the chef said. “And do a good job.”
Bill got up. He and the chef shook hands. The chef led him to the office door and opened it for him. “Have a good night,” he said.
Jimmy’s cousin Jimmy, the banquet chef, along with another man, a little older, maybe late forties or so, stopped Bill as he started for the long hallway/tunnel. Little Jimmy, because he was very short, spoke first. He spoke with a nasal sound that made his voice sound a touch higher than it was.
“Trouble with Caesar, huh?” little Jimmy said.
“How you know?” Bill asked.
“Jimmy called us. Told us everything,” the other man said. He had a very deep, bass voice.
“This is Victor,” Jimmy said, “a banquet cook and another cousin. Kalista is my aunt, just so you know.”
Bill shook hands with Victor, a vigorous shake.
“Don’t take no shit from him,” Victor said.
