Hot Potato

6. An Interview

I stared into my closet, dithering about what to wear while my mind ran in circles, reviewing how the situation had come to this. So impulsive. So unlike the Gigi I know. But not. I kicked Garth out, didn't I? And without a moment's hesitation. Well, after weeks of bad sex.

What'll Marcy think of this move? Praise me for the initiative? Or suggest I should have discussed it with her?

I shook the thoughts from my mind and concentrated on dressing. A bra? Or just a baggy top? An interview, not a fashion show. He's hiring my skills and experience, not my clothes. Hiring? Hah! What are the chances?

And walking, not running, so no need to confine. I tossed the bra back into the drawer and pulled on a pair of loose jeans and a thick fleece hoodie. Then with my phone and wallet in the pouch pocket, I headed out. As I walked down Cambie, I questioned whether he'd expect me to be better dressed. But we all wear casual to and from work, then change into whites, so what's the problem with this?

With my brisk pace, the six blocks went quickly, and as I approached Crowe, I saw Hot Potato on a shiny vinyl banner flapping in the breeze above the entrance. Well, that gives credence to the name change. Or a very elaborate cover for a pervert stalking the web.

But with all the customers at the patio tables, it looks legit. Too many people around for anything strange. I shook my head to quiet my suspicious mind. So, this had been Plimpton's – never heard of it. Hah! Living under a rock, as Marcy so often tells me.

I stepped inside to find the place nearly empty. But it's late afternoon, between lunch and dinner, so this makes sense. And with the radiant heaters, it's pleasant on the patio.

A waiter looked up from cleaning a table and pointed. "Welcome. Sit anywhere except in that corner. I'll be with you in a bit."

"Thank you. I have an appointment with Mr McSweeny."

"Who's he?"

"The manager of the chain."

"Oh! So, that's his name." He pointed again to the corner. "One of the ones doing the interviews."

I nodded. More than one of them? And interviews, not interview? Position's likely already taken. "Yes, and he's expecting me."

"Go on over, then. They've got nobody with them now."

"Thanks." I heaved a quiet sigh and threaded my way past the tables toward the corner. Nothing to lose, Gigi. But likely don't stand a chance.

Whoa! Think positive. At least, an outright rejection will be better than no response. Or would it be worse?

The two men at the corner table were in a discussion as I approached. Do I interrupt to introduce myself? Or stop and wait to be noticed?

I was about to stop when one looked up at me and said, "I'm Duncan, and this is Kevin Chang, the manager of this branch. You must be Ms Gallini."

"I am, yes. And calling me Gianna or Gigi is fine."

Duncan turned to his laptop and clicked some keys, then after scrolling the touchpad a couple of times, he looked up into my eyes, holding the gaze as he said, "An impressive background presented in a concise manner, the bullet point format adding to its impact. Have you anything to add?"

Oh, God! I send my draft, not Marcy's rewrite of it. What did I leave out? What else would he want? I shrugged. "Nothing I can think of at the moment."

"Fine, then. The standard first question – why did you leave your last position?"

"John said the restaurant was too small for me to grow further."

Duncan tilted his head. "Who is John?"

"John Cardinal, the owner and executive chef. He gave me short-notice severance and full compensation for unused vacation."

Both men nodded, and then Duncan asked, "How many were you in the kitchen?"

"Seven. Three line cooks, two preps, me and John. Eight with the dishwasher. I ran it Sundays and Mondays when John was off. Also, when he was away doing his cooking show or promoting his cookbooks – during his vacations, too."

Duncan pointed toward the kitchen. "We've twelve in there. Do you think you could handle that many?"

"Before John recruited me, I was managing nine station cooks at the Four Seasons." I shrugged. "Twelve shouldn't be that different."

After several more questions, Duncan said, "The listing called for beginning immediately – are you free to do this?"

Immediately? I missed that in my rush. "I'm cooking dinner for company tonight, but from tomorrow onward, I'm free." Oh, God! Don't sound too eager, Gigi. Don't even know their menu.

I watched as the two men spoke quietly to each other, both nodding. Then Duncan stood and extended his hand. "We have two executive chef openings, one at the Dunbar branch and one here at our flagship. We would like to hire you for this branch."

"Whoa! Too fast. I know nothing about Hot Potato or Plimpton's. What the menu is. The philosophy. The kitchen. The pay."

"Of course, of course. With the takeover, the menus are changing, and you can be part of that process." Duncan again pointed toward the kitchen. "This branch is new – opened in August – and it has a state-of-the-art kitchen. Come, let's have a look."

As we headed toward it, I sensed I had manoeuvred myself into the driver's seat. He's trying to convince me to accept the position. Hmmm! Broad shoulders and butt like that – and those eyes – I'll take him in any position. Whoah, Gigi. Out of there. This is business.

Then at the prep tables, Duncan stopped and turned toward me, my eyes immediately spotting his bulge. "Huge!" I diverted my gaze and continued, "Huge kitchen. How many seats does it serve?"

"A hundred and sixty inside and another eighty-four on the patio." He led me across to the cooking line. "Six double-wide stoves with two ovens each, three here and three over there along the wall. Not sure what the owners were thinking."

I examined them and all the other equipment, calculating the expense; then I said, "I wonder if the extravagance is why they had to sell."

"There were other factors – the chain was a minor part of the acquisition. What do you mean by philosophy?"

"Environmental consciousness, locally-sourced ingredients, sustainable seafood."

"Sure, whatever. If they're important, they can be part of rewriting the menus."

"And the pay?"

"For this branch, start at twenty-four an hour."

"How many hours per week?"

"We expect a minimum of forty. But beyond sixty, we become concerned about health."

I nodded, doing rapid calcs. Fifty K up to seventy-five. The max the same as the Bacchus min. But it's now, not way down the road. "I signed contracts at both the Four Seasons and Cardinal's. Have you one?"

"We do. I'll fill in the details and email it to you, so you can review it with your lawyer."

Need to discuss this with Marcy. "By when must I decide?"

"We'll hold the offer open until eleven tomorrow morning."

I reexamined the kitchen, picturing myself running it. "Fine, then. May I see the menus and the wine list to give me a better idea? Begin thinking about ways to improve them."

"Yes, certainly. You sound positive about accepting."

"Unless the contract convinces us otherwise." 

"Excellent!" Duncan extended his hand again, and this time I accepted the shake.

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Points to consider in this chapter:

Is Gigi's change from self-doubt to confidence natural or unusual?

What might have triggered this?

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