20Chapter 2: Training Day
For some reason, Harrison and Adrian felt it was a better idea to come in on their first day in their respective cars instead of carpooling. Harrison had only been driving for a little over a month, and his car was some beat-up hand-me-down Chevy acquired from his father.
Adrian has had his truck for a good couple of months at this point, and he usually drove out in the streets by himself before he received his license. Adrian had passed the driving test when he took Driver's Education Class, but he couldn't receive his actual license until he turned sixteen, as per Florida law. Adrian wasn't one to let such a trivial law impede his active nightlife.
Regardless, the two were driving around in circles trying to find a parking space. The place opened at five, so they had only half an hour to get in before the people started filing in. Harrison was trying to run point with Adrian over the cell phone. Harrison was on the east end of the parking lot while Adrian spun around in circles over on the south end, closer the street. Neither of them were having any luck.
"Anything yet?"
"Nothing," Harrison replied glumly. "I saw a handicapped parking space, but I don't think they'll take too kindly to me parking there. Hey, do you think you could break my legs really fast?"
"It would kind of defeat the purpose of parking, but if you insist."
Harrison hung up the phone. He was helping Adrian, but Adrian seemed to only want to shoot back with semi-sarcastic comments. Maybe his view would be better if he didn't have a verbal distraction coming at him. It seemed to work. On the south side—where Adrian supposedly was—an open parking space came into view. Harrison knew there was no way a parking spot so far would be handicapped, so he zoomed over without a second thought. He put the car in park and stepped out with a wave of glory.
The Bismark looked to be a mile away, but Harrison took the long walk as a walk of pride. He had the parking spot, and he could only assume that Adrian was still driving around in circles somewhere searching for his parking spot. Actually, Harrison needed to make sure of it and to brag, so he dialed Adrian's number as he approached the door (cutting all the waiting patrons as he did last time.)
"Hey," he began as Adrian answered his cell phone. "Guess where I am."
"At the front entrance with an idiotic look of despondency on your face. By the way, the heavyset man standing directly behind you has an angered look on his face as if he were about to pull out a gat. That's a gun, by the way."
Harrison hung up the phone as he saw Adrian coming towards the door from the inside. The manager Trina was behind him and slowly opened up the door for Harrison, careful not to let the other angry patrons inside. Sensing that his friend was going to ask how he managed to get inside first, Adrian answered. "There's an employee parking lot in the back. I took my chances and checked it out. It's a lot easier to find a parking spot back there."
"I hate you."
"I would too."
"I'm glad we're all acquainted," Trina interrupted the conversation. "I'm Trina Amadala. I'm the manager of The Bismark. Therefore, I'm your boss and dictate everything you can and cannot do in this establishment. Also, I dictate what you have to do at my discretion."
"As manager," Adrian shot back, "doesn't that meant that you too have a boss that we could go to if we feel that your orders are outrageous, or if we ever want to get back at you for something malicious you did without any provocation?"
"You're such a funny boy," Trina replied. Trina clapped her hands twice. Sabrina came out, wearing a tuxedo suit and holding two identical ones on hangars. The suit composed of a black bowtie, a white tuxedo shirt with long sleeves, black slacks, and a black apron. There didn't seem to be any differentiation between the uniform for the guys and the girls. "Put them on," Trina ordered.
"But they're ugly!" Harrison complained.
"Now who's funny?"
Five minutes elapsed. The boys put the suits on, and came back out into the dining room. Adrian seemed comfortable enough, but Harrison was squirming in such formal attire. Once again, Sabrina was sitting on the arm of a chair in the dining room. Standing next to Trina was Michael Sexton.
He introduced himself. "Hello. I'm Michael Sexton. I've been working her for about a year now. I'm training Harrison Lane. Which one of you two is Harrison?" Harrison raised his hands. "You are in good hands, my friends," Michael assured him. "Like I said, I've been working here for about a year now. I know this place like the back of my hand. I'm here more than I am at home. I do breakfast and dinner."
"How does that work?" Harrison asked.
"It's called working split," Michael explained. "I come it at 7:00 in the morning to serve breakfast. For breakfast, we only use the first two floors. It isn't as popular as dinner. Then I leave at 11:00. Some people stay to serve lunch, but that only needs three servers because only the first floor is open. Then I come back at 4:30 to serve dinner. All rooms are open. Well, all except the forth floor."
"What's that for?"
"I'll tell you later."
"Whom am I training with?" Adrian asked expectantly. "No offense, but I don't want to be trained by Sabrina. The way she's sitting idly on the arm of that chair shows that she doesn't want to train me either, and I'd rather have someone cynical about the job over someone who's cynical about the duty given to them."
Sabrina stuck her tongue out at him. "For you information, I am very responsible and even though I've only been here a month, I could train you just as well as Michael Sexton could train Harrison. I know that for a fact."
"I'm going to disagree with that fact," Michael let the group in the dining room know. "I've been working her for a year. I know what I'm doing."
"Stop it!" Trina yelled. "All of you. Really. You're acting like babies. I expect that from you Michael, though." Michael's odd smile beamed through after the pseudo-compliment. Trina began to walk over to the kitchen and waved for the others to follow her in.
Chef Joe was standing next to the counter. Behind it was the actual appliances used for cooking. The other servers were standing around the kitchen, most of them leaning on the tables or counters that were around the kitchen. Trina waved for one of the boys sitting on the stairs to come over and chat with the group for a quick second. He ended his conversation with the young boy next to him and joined the others at the far end of the kitchen, away from Joe and the other servers. He was wearing a Naruto headband, so dress code was not very strict under Trina's rule.
"This is Shawn Russoti," Trina introduced him to Harrison and Adrian. Shawn extended his hand, expecting them to shake it. Only Adrian shook his hand. It was too late when Harrison realized what Shawn had extended his hand for. "Even though Michael refuses to admit it, Shawn has just as much experience. Shawn and Michael applied the same day, but a technicality prevented Shawn from started the same day as Michael, so Michael has only two days of experience more than Shawn."
"It's nice to meet you guys," Shawn said. "You have no idea how thrilled I am to see new servers. Two, actually." He had a smile on his face, but it was different than Michael's. Shawn's smile seemed genuine, unlike Michael's who looked like he plastered it on his face on his way to work today.
"Shawn," Sabrina interrupted. "It looks like you'll be training Mr. Eberts here." Sabrina point to Adrian. Shawn extended his hand for another handshake, which Adrian surprisingly did for him. "Well," she continued. "I'm glad this is going well. Of course, I could have done it, but to each his own I guess." Sabrina slinked off to join the other servers going over the menu with Chef Joe."
"Come on," Michael said. "We should listen. Chef Joe is going over the menu."
"Why do we have to go over the menu?" Harrison asked. "Doesn't it stay the same?"
"Only the entrees stay the same at the Bismark," Michael commented. "Everyday, we have two different soups. Generally, one is cream based and the other is broth based. Also, we have a special meal that changes everyday along with the regular things on the menu. Finally, the selection of deserts changes with each day. There's usually three or four to pick from, not counting the selection of ice creams we have everyday. The regulars generally know what we have and don't have."
"Everybody got that?" Chef Joe asked as he finished going over the menu. Harrison hadn't heard a word of what he said, but he didn't want to appear the idiot on the first day. Michael would go over it for him later, he was sure. "Okay. Get the Hell out of my kitchen, then." With that, Joe retired back behind the counter and the servers began to move groggily out in the dining room. Michael glanced at a sheet of paper on the counter before following the others.
Harrison came out with Michael, Adrian came out with Shawn. Once again, the difference between the types of smile on their respective trainers was evident. Only Shawn was truly happy. "Are we all ready to have a great service?" Trina asked them all. Most of them gave an agreeing grunt, but some mumbled opposing views under their breath. Trina heard them. "Okay. Here we go. Open the doors to the Bismark."
Michael motioned for Harrison to follow him upstairs. "Okay, he said as he leaned on the banister to watch the people file in. "We have the left section of this floor. For right now, I just want you to be my shadow. Don't do anything I didn't tell you to do. Don't listen to anyone else. Got it?"
"Got it!"
"Good."
Downstairs, Shawn was despondent as he watched some people come in and sit down on the left side of the first floor. "My section," he mumbled. "I always get this section. I hate it. It always gets slammed."
"How so?" Adrian inquired. His reasoning for asking was mostly out of intrigue, and not and interest to assist.
"This section gets slammed by regulars every single day. Mike Palmetto and his guys always sit at that first table with his guys, Walter, Ed, and Bill. Then I always get the Daniels at the two-top over by the fish tank. Oh, and then—"
"Stop," he replied. "You're making me nauseous. Make a timeline on when these people generally come in." Shawn took out a meal ticket from his apron pocket and began to write a brief timeline of the first thirty minutes, which was crucial to the front section of the first floor. "Is this accurate?"
"One hundred percent," Shawn replied. "These people never break habits."
"I can do this." He replied. "Mike comes in first. I see he already has. I'll get his water, as is customary here regardless of whether they drink it or not. He takes regular coffee, I see, so I'll grab that, and I'll pour water for his boys before they get here. I'll get the Daniels water as I come back with two sets of rolls for both tables. I'll take Mike's order, and then I'll take the Daniel's order. It says that the Daniels want their order put in right away so they can eat it with their salad from the salad bar. I'll put them in, and grab rolls for this third table. I'll pour them water as I return to take Mike's friend's order. Then I'll get then their soups and drinks and come back and take these ladies over here. And so on from there, right?"
Shawn just stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face. "You want to do this section?" he asked. "If you need to know where anything is, just ask me, but I'd rather not serve. I got this job in hopes that they would use me as a busboy. I'm good at that. I know I'm good that that. The server shortage puts me in the position of having to take orders. I'd rather just bus."
"I think we can come to and agreement Mr. Russoti." This time, it was Adrian who extended his hand for a handshake first.
Trina was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter—the window—where Chef Joe was putting the orders on the keep them hot until they were ready. One of the other chefs almost bumped into him as he tried to get the meal into the dumbwaiter and bring it up to the third floor. Joe seemed happy while he cooked. It seemed to be the only thing that brought him joy. The conversation he was about to have with Trina, who interrupted his cooking, was not making him happy.
"Do you think I'm in his will?" she asked him.
"No," he replied sternly.
"I've been a stable employee of his for ten years. I stood by him and this restaurant through thick and thin. He left me the restaurant. Why shouldn't he have put me in his will?"
"Okay, I think you're think to hard on this situation," he explained. "First of all, Norman Atherton was nothing more than the manager before you. Yes, he battled the establishment and kept this place running when the President wanted to close it due to bad business. I was there. Remember? It wasn't his decision to give you the restaurant. That was Mr. Goodman's decision. Atherton saw you as a loyal employee, but nothing more. You're not going to be in his will."
Trina was about to walk away until Joe added one more thing; "Besides, what would he give you. He's already leaving me pretty much everything."
"Excuse me?"
"I got a call yesterday," he explained. "I'm in his will. I'm actually getting his car."
"What the Hell?!"
"Maybe he didn't like you as well as you thought he did."
"Oh, it's on now!"
An hour passed. Adrian was commanding the section like a professional, and Shawn was content with busing the tables for him so he could work even more expediently. They were getting people in and out in record time, and Shawn was resenting his own tables so more people could sit down. Adrian took their orders with pleasure,
Harrison Lane and Michael Sexton was a different story. He was still following Michael like a shadow, as he was asked to do, but he wasn't really learning much. Michael would occasionally remember he had a trainee, and he would look back and explain what he was doing. It was usually the easy things, like telling the difference between the broth and cream soups, and what the letters on the juice machine stood for. L (lemonade), IT (iced tea), O (orange), P (prune), C (cranberry), and A (apple).
Most of the time when Harrison posed a question, Michael would shush him. "Shadows don't talk!"
Sabrina was passing them on the way down the stairs. "Sabrina! You want to train me?"
"I wish I could!"
"Hey!" Michael called again. "Shadows don't talk! More importantly, shadows don't look in the opposite direction of their makers. Understand?"
"Yes sir."
"Shadows don't talk!"
Harrison groaned.
"Shadows don't groan either."
Sabrina left them and made her way down the stairs. "Adrian! How are you doing? Michael won't let me train his trainee, so I was wondering if Shawn needed any help training you."
"Are you kidding?" Shawn interjected. "This man is amazing! I've never seen anyone use math and logic so efficiently to serve people. I have literally never seen anyone as good at his job than this man! He should probably be training you."
"I can train!" Sabrina shot back. "I can train! I can train! I can train! Andres! Can I train you?"
"I've been working here for about five months now."
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"That's a no."
"Spoilsport."
Outside, the sun was setting, but it didn't stop Trina from walking back and forth hoping that someone would pick up the phone. The other end of the call Trina was trying to make was still ringing, and it was arriving at the eighth ring. Trina felt that if someone didn't answer after the eighth ring, they probably weren't going to answer, but she held out this time for the tenth ring.
"The law offices of Cawain, Swain, and Ross. How may I direct your call?"
"My name is Trina Amadala. I'm calling about a will left by a man named Norman Atherton. I need to know something about that."
"I'm sorry," the receptionist replied. "I can't give you that information. The contents of a person's will are open only to the immediate family members and those who are mentioned in the will. If you're not a member of the immediate family, then I'm afraid you're going to have to wait until they read the will."
"No, I just want to know if a guy named Joe was mention as getting a car."
"I can't tell you that, ma'am."
"Not even on the down low?"
"No."
"Please? I'll give you a coupon for The Bismark."
"Goodbye, ma'am." With that, the receptionist hung up the phone.
Trina groaned in anger, but her personal tirade was cut short when she heard a short grunt come from behind her. It was a lot easier to see the height different between her and Joe when there weren't any annoying shelves and counters to offset the height. She must have been at least a foot taller than him. Rather, he was a foot shorter. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"
"Are you really in his will?"
"No," he admitted. "Just thought it'd be funny to see how you'd react. Trust me. This was funny."
"I still think that Atherton should have left me something."
"You didn't even go to the man's funeral."
"He doesn't know that."
"What do you want from him?" She didn't have an answer; only a goofy smile and a despondent look in her eyes. Joe went back inside.
Michael Sexton had left Harrison to reset all of the tables in his section. Harrison couldn't complain, since Michael had at least gone to clean up the salad bar. Still, his job was easier than the one Harrison was left to do. Adrian came up to watch his friend. Shawn was more than happy to set up their section, since he didn't have to take a single order that day.
"You seem exhausted," Adrian pointed out. "The way I hear it from Sabrina, you didn't even do any work."
"I'm exhausted from restraining myself from doing any work," he explained. "How long is training even supposed to take? I didn't do anything today. Michael says I might take a table tomorrow. What's up with that? I can handle it now!"
"Stick it to Sexton tomorrow," Adrian advised. "Do more than he thinks you can do. You should be able to prove yourself then."
Harrison took Adrian's advice to heart. Adrian helped him finish setting up the section before leaving for their respective houses. Harrison formulated his plan for the next day.
A/N: I generally try not to give my own opinion on the chapter. I'd rather just let you, the reader, come to your own conclusion on the episodes. As I mentioned before, all characters, bother employees and regulars, are based on people I know.
Preview of the next episode: Harrison doesn't appreciate Michael's lackluster trainign skills, so he decides to buck authority with Sabrina's help. Meanwhile, Adrian tries to aquant himself with Amy Mylin, another server, while avoiding Monique DeMarco.