Seedling 14: The View from Lunch Service
“I don’t really see the point of asking someone for two week’s notice and then not taking it. It doesn’t even make sense. We’re going to be short-staffed, now”.
Hannah was leaning against the main console, looking over the floor. There was sunshine pouring in through the high-arched windows and the starchy white tableclothes had taken on a dreamy glow. She turned on her hip, facing me.
‘How do you get along with Mike, Paul?’
The two of us had been hanging out here in front of the dual POS terminals for what would be a rule-breaking five minutes or so. But it was a quiet lunch service, my section was nearly empty and Eoin had most of the active tables. More than that, I think both Hannah and I were worn out from last night’s service. I’d left at ten, but poor Hannah had closed and then opened, again, today. What’s that? Six hours sleep? We had that quiet commiseration one develops on a restaurant floor.
‘Mike? Yeah, we get along fine. I have no problems with Mike’.
Hannah grinned, cocked her head, looked upwards and let out a half-snort-half-laugh.
‘I dunno,’ she continued, ‘I just think he’s like some sort of evil Bond villain, you know?’
She had this disconcerting habit of smiling and appearing charmed even when she was speaking disapprovingly or complaining about something. It was a sort of mischievious satisfaction, a child-like wonder at both the good and the bad of the world. Which is why she drifted off on tangents in briefings and pontificated as to how the dormouse really should be protected and thank heavens the European Union forced Wales into building that wildlife bridge across the A473 in Pontypridd.
‘Tooooo much money for mouses,’ Marcos had clucked, raising an eyebrow and rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.
‘I mean, really, he speaks fluent Italian and French, knows everything about every dish, every ingredient, is a maths whiz, and now he just steps behind the bar, last night, never done it - and is faster than Erich who is - I can’t believe it - gone. …’. She threw her hands in the air and trailed off.
Yes, Mike did seem to be a bit of a genius. A genius who knew he was a genius. No madcap behaviour or comedic mannerisms for effect, just stock-grade wunderkind. And he had indeed killed it behind the bar. Even the languid, lollygagging Marty rose to the occasion with Mike as her guide. But give him credit - he hustled. Big time. There was no posturing or bar ego shenanigans like you got with Erich. Mike was doing the job and getting a real kick out of it, as well. He was very…smiley? It certainly translated into a far more efficient service for me. I don’t know how it was for Kamil. Sniper and I didn’t speak, much, last night. Having Mike within earshot seemed to have a quashing effect on Kamil’s neverending harassment.
And as far as Erich being gone - look, I’d only worked with him a couple of weeks - in this country, at least. He wasn’t all bad. He was human, and all that. But he was also a major prick. So, for me, this wasn’t the saddest day.
‘Well’, I offered ‘it’s not uncommon to pay the notice period and allow an employee to leave. It can be better for team morale’.
Hannah looked at me quizzically.
‘You know - sometimes employees with one foot out the door talk a lot smack; even try to take some people with them. Seedling is new, so you gotta try and create stability….’ I paused. I might be revealing too much. ‘It’s just safer sometimes, is all’.
Hannah turned forward again, nodding her head a few times, ‘Maybe. But Melody won’t be happy. And she despises Mike, as it is’.
Eoin crossed from his ‘windows’ section and leaned over to us between tables eleven and twelve instead of walking around the console, flouting even more Seedling rules and regulations. We were scofflaws, this lunch service.
‘Hannah, be a doll and take a Sinskey Pinot off of table 35? He changed his mind’.
Not thinking, I logged into the system, pulled up table 35, highlighted and coded the item off ‘no waste’. Hannah’s eyes widened, as did her grin.
‘Well, well, Paul. Look at you. Naughty, naughty. That stripey top of yours can’t hide your naught-eee-ness’. She smiled her toothy grin. ‘Better be careful around here; Seedling is more ‘Hunger Games’ behind the scenes than you might realise’. She tapped her index finger on the side of her head, grabbed a stack of discarded dessert menus, and strolled away towards reception.