His shift was only half done. This was the worst part. Stuck in the middle. At least a liter of sweat lost in this hot kitchen. Hot and loud. The fan they had spinning to ventilate the kitchen made it feel like they were working nearby a jet engine.
He wiped his forehead using the back of his hand. Watched a drop of sweat fall into the pot. Nothing he could do. The boiling should take care of the germs. Plus what was a few drops of sweat in a broth stock right?
The music was pumped loud. The crew cranked the volume so that they could hear the music over the fans. They listened to mostly rap and rock. Music where the subtle nuances weren't what made the experience. You couldn't listen to that kind of stuff with the fans on.
Instead it was song with bars. People talking about living hard and living free. No not talking. Screaming it. You could blare that as you rocked your head as your forearms swelled shuffling around industrial cookware.
Ohhhhh we're halfway there! OHHHHH LIVING ON A PRAYER
He needed a god damn beer. But they had a rush. Too many people needing
udon
. He had to serve them. But once the rush was done he'd probably crack open a tall boy. This was a shit job. In a shit place.
New York
. The boss couldn't pay them a living wage so the least he could give the crew was free beer during the job.
"But only when there's a lull alright?"
The lull was coming soon. He felt a bead of sweat falling on his forehead. His hands were stirring a ladle in the pot.