Page 8 of Operation Sunshine
He pulled his notebook from his back pocket and flipped to a fresh page. His handwriting, usually neat and clinical, came out hurried and jagged.
— Bottleneck at dish station.
— No standard portion control.
— Inventory not updated since last week.
— Overlap on staff breaks.
— Guest complaints not logged formally.
— Weak profit margins on certain dishes.
Ben clicked his pen repeatedly, each click a small thunderclap in his head.
Change was necessary. Heknewthat.
But how do I fix something that seems to function on pure emotion and charm alone?
How should he rewire a place that seemed to thrive on the very chaos he wanted to tame?
Ben closed his eyes and took a long breath, inhaling the swirl of rosemary, thyme, burnt sugar, and something distinctly Franco.
The fact he recognised the latter as such both captivated and disarmed him.
Forget the pretty waiter. Concentrate.
Except Franco left pretty in his dust.
Franco was stunning.
Tomorrow. I’ll start small. Triage first. Then structure. Then systems.
And just like that, a staff meeting loomed in his future.
Dear God, I hope I can survive it.
He slipped his notebook back into his pocket and stood.
Willow noticed his movement and came over to him. “Seen enough?”
He nodded. “Tomorrow morning, before we open, I want everyone here for a staff meeting. And I meaneveryone, not just those scheduled to work that day. Can you round them all up?”
Willow smiled. “Sure. I’m used to herding this lot. Except most of the time, they’re more like cats than sheep.” She tilted her head. “I’d expected nothing less, to be honest. A staff meeting is essential if you’re gonna survive this madhouse. You need to get the lay of the land.”
Survive. The word struck him like a jolt of caffeine.
Was this really what I signed up for?
Watching the restaurant in full swing had been an experience he could have summed up in five words:Lunch rush: disaster management plan. The place was pure chaos. Okay, so it was a different kind of chaos compared to the corporate world he’d left behind, but he could already tell that runningSage & Thymewas less about precision and more about surviving.
The prospect both terrified and exhilarated him.
He couldn’t wait to get started.
Franco leaned against the prep counter, idly slicing a leftover lemon into thin wheels. The post-lunch lull had settled over the kitchen, that brief, precious hour when the din receded and everyone snatched a moment to breathe.
Raj stood across from him, wiping down the pass, while Lexie perched on a milk crate nearby, scrawling menu notes in a battered sketchbook. Mina lingered near the pastry fridge, munching on a broken piece of tart shell she’d salvaged.
