They had talked about these things. Bill, the chef and the banquet chef had pretty much set the parameters for Bill. They had told him clearly what he could and couldn’t do. He wasn’t supposed to fraternize on company time, but in the scope of things, since cooks like Bill never actually got their union-recognized breaks, the chef didn’t hassle them much for resting when they could. Bill and Jimmy G were responsible for a service so it was assumed they’d take breaks and deal with personal matters as they could. How they did it was left up to them.
The banquet cooks working only banquets did get a lunch break. Most of them ate in the kitchen. Few of them actually took their scheduled time. Instead, and this was strictly decided by Jimmy Banquet Chef who had okayed it with the executive chef, they left when the work was done, all the work, and often this was earlier than the end of their designated shifts. They ate while they worked or when they were in a lull. Lulls happened all the time, those moments when there wasn’t anything to do, when they could run to the bathroom or smoke a cigarette.
Kitchens were a small, tight world. Even a big kitchen like this one was a small, tight world. Things went well in kitchens like this one when they went well. Things were tough when they weren’t going well. Jealousy and envy threatened harmony from time to time, why, as Bill had learned, the cook he’d replaced had quit. He didn’t like that Jimmy G got over all the time.
R&R got in the way of harmony too. Big time. At least a half-dozen of the banquet cooks and even more than a half-dozen waiters were dying to get into Millie’s or Beverly’s pants, and everyone was hot for the two Falstaff Girls, Rosie and Edelgarde. Overall, this did not bode particularly well for Bill. He was brand-spanking new and he been there/done that with all three. It was only a matter of time until the word spread.
Insecurity was another threat to kitchen harmony. Room service cooks didn’t want Bill to know their jobs for fear he might one day replace one of them. Same thing for some of the banquet cooks. They were afraid and resentful at the same time and a few of them were jealous too since Bill had risen up as he did.
Bill was not thinking about these things. On his way home after speaking with the chef ever-so-briefly, Bill was thinking about what the chef had said about Caesar, how the chef was using him as a pawn in a game of power. “Suck it up,” the chef had said, which meant basically that Bill had to play his part in the game. Doing so and playing it well meant that he’d be protected, and his protection was from the top.
Bill was thinking that he didn’t want to be part of the palace intrigue. Bill was thinking, more than anything else, that all he wanted was to work. He didn’t want the girls. He didn’t want intrigue. He didn’t want the power games. He simply wanted to go to work, to earn his pay and to come home.
Working at Suburban had taught him that although it should be, it was never that simple. He had been learning from all different angles that the human condition almost always got in the way of simplicity. The human condition almost always messed things up.
