I stepped out of the elevator into the lobby that had tacky written all over it. The outside of the building didn’t exactly scream “best place to live” either. I walked the seven city blocks to the restaurant in the February weather. It was ten o’clock, we didn’t open for another two hours but the wait staff had a “meeting” to go to. I ripped off my cheap Old Navy coat and slung it on the back of a random chair, on my way to the kitchen. The restaurant is dimly lit and the walls are a deep red, all the tables are white linen with matching napkins. Its set up narrowly, two rows of booths then the middle with assorted shaped tables. The kitchen was large, and being cleaned by the dishwashers. In the back half the wait staff was standing around.
“Hey guys, what’s up?” The manager glanced up and I smiled a “I hate this job, but I really need it to pay the rent” type of grin.
“We have an announcement to make,” the 3 managers stood and addressed the entire kitchen, “the waitstaff will be downsized, 50 percent.”