“Son-of-a…” He was only eight minutes late but always wondered why the owner had to be there at the restaurant every time he was late. Once, maybe twice a month, the traffic was bad or he just was moving slowly enough that he was a few minutes late. Always on these days Michael popped on over to Patsy’s to work on some project or another. Andrew always wondered why it couldn’t be on the days he was early, he secretly wondered if Michael was watching the video cameras to see if he was there or not.

Andrew whipped the Bronco around the U-turn that brought him into the parking lot of Patsy’s Cowgirl Cafe, and odd name for an odd restaurant. The place had stood there for two and half years, two of which he had resided over it as the GM. Prior to his arrival, during the first six months, Patsy’s had seen six other General Managers. They had not fallen exactly at a rate of one per month, but they certainly had not lasted long. Andrew had only planned on doing a year here and then finding himself a new career. Somehow he had been sucked into the vortex of the place, unable to pass from within confines its walls. He threw the truck into park and took a moment to gather his wits, there was no telling what Michael would want to talk about but he had to be prepared for any circumstance.

He popped open the truck door and landed in the haphazard parking lot the restaurant shared with a used restaurant supply retailer. The pot holes looked big enough for a toddler to swim in and the limestone that was the foundation for the asphalt poked through with white gravel and dust. He avoided the worst of them and headed for the mailbox. Inside was stuffed with the weekends horde of junk mail and a phone book. He yanked all of it out and was getting prepared to face the unknown when he saw Michael put his truck in reverse and drive off in a cloud of white dust, waving to him as he passed. Andrew shrugged and headed for the steps.

Balancing the mail and his keys he went to unlock the door and found it open, of course Michael had unlocked it when he came in. Andrew’s mind was still wrapped around the many things he had to do prior to opening the restaurant, made only worse by losing a day to Monday’s holiday. Four days to do five days of work, plus the missing chunk in next weeks paycheck. He sighed and waltzed into the door mustering a smile for the crew behind the door, ‘never let em see ya sweat.’ He greeted the dishwasher first, who was busy mopping the floor, the two line cooks and the prep cook came next, with the usual small talk about their weekend. He dropped the mail and clocked in, his day had officially begun.