Page 130 of Stay With Me

She lifted her eyebrows in concern. “Did you fall?”

“Oh no,” he dismissed. “Had a little trouble with some drywall.”

“Remodeling?”

“Just repairs of sorts.”

She furrowed her brow.

“Well,” he went on, switching gears and gesturing to his desk. “Have a seat and we can get started.”

As she lowered into a chair across from him, she noticed a new desk was set up on the opposite end of the room. Apparently, he noticed her noticing.

“That’s for you,” he mentioned. “Should you choose to accept it.”

“Well, we’ll see won’t we?” she said somewhat cattily.

“We will.”

He pulled out a stack of documents and set them in front of her, along with a pen. “Standard stuff, mostly for tax and accounting purposes.” He tapped on the top document. “That one is intended for the chefs so ignore the verbiage about culinary background.”

She began scribbling her information down.

“Can I get you a coffee?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” she replied, not looking up. Once she finished, she neatly stacked the documents and set them down on his side of the desk. He sat erect across from her wearing a pleasant expression.

“You might consider adopting a more generalized form if you intend to bring in more staff who aren’t specific to the kitchen or the dining room. I have some templates.”

He folded his hands on top of the stack of papers. “Great idea.”

She looked at him expectantly. “Anything else?”

“Such as what?”

She lifted a palm. “Employee handbook, policies, and guidelines? That sort of thing is standard when a new employee joins a company.”

He waved a hand casually. “We don’t have any of those.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Well, you should.”

“I know.” He gestured with one of his non-fractured fingers. “That’s why you’re here.”

She slipped her laptop out of her bag, opened it, began making notes, and felt him staring at her. She continued to avoid looking at him as she created categories, bullet points, and noted things to ask him.

“How are you currently assigning schedules?”

“I print out a calendar and post it in the breakroom.”

She smirked at her screen. “It’s 2015, Nick. There is—in fact—an app for that.”

“Sounds like a great app.”

“I’m going to have to do a little bit of researching,” she went on as she switched to a web browser and scrolled. “But I think there’s software that integrates the terminals used by the waitstaff and kitchen with scheduling, tracks tickets, and tips so it can generate payroll automatically, and also has a messaging system. How do you handle requests for time off?”

“Usually, they text me and I send myself an e-mail.”

She peered at him over the screen. “Is that a little technique they taught you at McCombs?”

---