Ethan nodded. "Does the manager let you reconcile deliveries?"
"He used to. Now the numbers come down from his office, and we're expected to make them true."
Victor's voice held no melodrama, only fatigue. He had spent his career accounting for ounces, temperatures, and minutes; numbers were not abstract to him. When he said the inventory was wrong, he meant that a change in a spreadsheet could eventually leave a cook without the ingredients to feed a guest. Ethan understood how damaging it must feel to be told that caring about the numbers was none of his business.
The lunch rush was punishing. A convention had released several hundred attendees into the neighborhood, and the dining room filled with people who had little time to spare. Orders for grilled fish, braised beef, and roasted vegetables arrived in overlapping waves, while a private party unexpectedly moved its reservation forward by half an hour. Ethan's station filled with pans faster than even the repaired machine, had there been one, could have processed them.
Olivia worked the hot line with Victor, calling out each dish before it left the pass. She had a calm voice that carried across the kitchen without becoming a shout. When Priya set a pan down in the wrong place, Olivia corrected her quietly and showed her how to angle the handle away from the flame. Ethan noticed that the junior cook made fewer mistakes around Olivia than she did around Marcus, even when Olivia was giving more instructions.
The damaged rack finally became a problem at two seventeen. Luis had loaded it with a stack of trays and was moving toward the dish station when a wheel caught the edge of the cracked tile. He stopped immediately and called for help, warning that the handle had worked loose. Before Ethan could reach him, another employee stepped around the obstruction and brushed the rack. The load shifted, the metal handle twisted out of its mounting, and several trays struck the floor in an enormous clatter.
No one was seriously injured, but a bowl broke and hot water splashed a nearby worker's shoes. The kitchen stopped long enough to make sure everyone was safe. Luis looked horrified. He had spent weeks warning people about that exact piece of equipment, and now he stood beside the wreckage with his hands open, as if trying to show he had done nothing reckless.
Marcus appeared almost immediately. "Who is responsible for this station?"
Victor stepped forward. "I was supervising the service flow."
"Then the mistake is yours. One more incident and you're finished. I will not have this kitchen embarrassing me in front of investors."
"The tray was overloaded," Ethan said. "Luis warned us the handle was broken. The rack was reported several times."
Marcus turned slowly. "Did I ask for your opinion?"
"No," Ethan replied. "But blaming someone who tried to prevent an accident isn't fair."
"Fair?" Marcus repeated, letting the word hang in the air. "You have two choices, Ethan. Keep your head down or find another job."