Fire me, will they? The best chef that place ever had? Why? Because a bunch of foals didn’t like me or my methods? Well, buck them!
I show up early, I do my job and one of theirs at twice the pace.
I work non-stop all day from sunrise until it’s time to leave and they talk to the bucking owner and say I’m lazy.
That I show up late and abuse my power. That I delegate my duties and sit on my rump all day playing cards or hitting on mares. How dare they! What gives any of them the right to even work in that restaurant I saved?
I pulled it back from the brink of closing because what restaurant has food like they did? Burnt vegetable platter? Smoked applewood with berry juice? Meat to please a passing carnivore or omnivore? Who tries to please everypony pleases nopony. And there I was, almost vomiting as I read the menu the first day.
I took the job for less bits than I should have on impulse. I worked 70 hours a week. I forwent mating season and parties to balance the budgets and lower costs. I gave up time with my friends to cook a rush like a good leader does, and then I’m told I need to wash dishes more.
I taught them to cook with Prench cuisine skills, Neighponese rolls, and to cook low and slow instead of hot and fast. And I’m a lazy manager?! A lazy chef? Lazy at all?
“Even the owner doesn’t work as much as I do!”
I don’t care who looks at me. I’m fuming mad! I haven’t frowned this much since… ever!
“I was fired, get outta my way.”
Dumb pony, standing in the middle of the street. I bet she’d get promoted for standing in the middle of the street and it doesn’t even have to do with her job. Who’s gonna replace me? Huh?!
Jack of all Trades? His dumb name sounds like he’s a better fit in maintainence than a kitchen. Lilli Petal? She can’t even cook an egg to save her life, she’d be Trade’s right hoof pony. Oh! Pearly Whites. The stallion with perfect teeth and a silver tongue for the owner, I bet he led the revolt against me and my ‘reign of power’.
He’d make the perfect leader. Lead them right into the pits of tartarus and leave them there to stew, then sell what’s left to a monster for a leaf! ‘It’s a good deal’ he’ll say when he goes back to Monopoly Powers and passes him a leaf.
“OH, thank you Pearly,” he’ll say, “best deal I’ve ever gotten for my whole staff. Haw-haw-haw. What’re you lookin’ at?!” Yeah, better look away or I’ll spit at your hooves.
I have to walk home now with all my equipment. My saddlebags are full of knives and spoons. If I trip I could cut myself and bleed to death on the ground. Like I bled my heart into the food over there.
Great, now I’m rambling in circles.
I… just can’t believe it. I was, fired. I haven’t been fired since I was a colt and I messed up.
I’ve singed the fur from my forelimbs. I’ve cut myself more times than I can count. If I shave my legs I’ll have more scars than a seasoned military veteran, and what do I have to show for it?
I haven’t saved enough bits to make it a month out of work. I have a fire on my record now. I can’t use my skills in any other industry and even my own cutie mark is a chef’s toque with a knife and honer!
What the hay am I gonna do? I can’t do labor. I can’t sit all day at a desk. I am not going into retail. Especially if the only option is owned by my former boss and his family.
What if… no other place in the city hires me? Will I have to move? I mean, I guess I did have fewer friends than most ponies. I could pack my whole apartment in a trunk and saddlebags. All I need are my basic things. I can get new furniture and bedding…
Is that all my life is: A room in a building and a job? When was the last time I hanged out. Hung out? Went out with friends? Friend. I guess I only have one pony that likes me enough to offer but he was a creep. I can’t consider him a friend unless it’s under the worst circumstances. He might be a foal fooler. I can’t have that on my head and if he is I’m guilty by association and there goes my job and reputation.
Why’d I have to be so passive? I can’t believe I didn’t fight more for my job, position, career.
I’ll have to find a new job.
(Sighs loudly in defeat)
I’ll have to take a lower position, maybe at the bottom as a line cook. There’s a job opening sign at that hotel. Maybe I can make beds? Three bits an hour for a few hours a day. I won’t be going out to eat and forget dates, but I might enjoy it more. Something different and I’ll still be making stuff, just not food. Beds. Ugh, no. I know what happens in those beds and I don’t want that in my fur.
Why is nopony hiring chefs? I need to spend years at the bottom and work my way to the top where I’ll be fired again? What about my dreams of running my own business? Not likely.
(Sighs deeply)
I’m just, gonna go home and sulk. That’s for sure. I’ll go to the bathhouse and get a good scrub from that fat creepy guy that loves to look at my scarred legs. At least it’s free and as long as he doesn’t poke me in the side with his… ugh, I’ll be fine.
I’ll be fine! That’s it. Just tell myself I’ll be fine and it will be. That’s the key to happiness, I bet… Force a smile until it’s real.
…
This isn’t working.
(Sniffles)
I’m a loser… and this loser is still dozens of blocks from home.
“Taxi! Great timing. Twinkle Road and 39th, please.”
“Eight bits.”
“Here ya go.” Rip off but I’ll get home in no time at all. OUCH! I sat on a serving fork. I’ll be home soon, then I’ll just get back to the job hunt. And then start over from the bottom up.
