Piano Man

2.

"Good morning everybody!" I say as I enter the empty restaurant at precisely 3:15 pm. If I work until 2 am almost every night, I earned the damn right to choose when my morning is.

"You're late" Tony says as he hands me a cup of coffee without saying another word. Now, this is a man who understands me. He was the literal embodiment of Eeyore, but we understood each other perfectly.

"Oh, and what will society be without me?"

"Don't you dare start, CJ, you know it's too early for this shit" my beloved grump of a friend tells me, as he starts buttoning his chef's uniform.

"For it is I, the vice president of stacking up chairs and placing cutlery in the right order for snooty rich people to have a place to sit and complain for three hours while their spouse, who they're cheating on by the way, sits there with a polite smile on their face?"

"Really? You're not even the president in your fantasy?" Tony smirks, while lighting a cigarette in front of the open door.

As I ramble on and on while arranging the tables and chairs in their right order, Mike, our manager walks in.

"Where the hell is everybody?" he asks Tony and I, who look as alive as Elvis Presley in the year 2020 right about now.

You see, I adore the man. Michael O'Connor, commonly known as Mike, was a short Irishman in his 50s whose idea of "casual clothes" was a jacket and a shirt without a tie.

He didn't have any children, but he somehow felt more like a father to everyone who worked in this restaurant than their own. He would never show it though, masking his fondness of us with a casual annoyance. But when the man smiled, a rare occurrence, boy did he know how to lift up our spirits.

"I've been meaning to tell you, I finally found a piano player I liked to play evenings. The place needed some cheering up. Lord knows we need a more romantic ambiance around here, how else are secretaries going to be charmed otherwise?" he jokes. "You'll meet him tonight".

"What, hard to find? I bet I could find a musician in this city within five minutes of searching, one is probably in the building at this very moment".
"Let me tell you, so many starving artists stay that way for a reason".

"Tough, Mike" I say, faking a smile.

Within the hour, the rest of the staff managed to get their asses out of bed and come to work, showcasing an energy no outsider would have known was there. Say what you want about this place, but when the team was together, we were a well-oiled machine.

The doors opened at 6:30 pm, giving us enough time to get the place ready and sneak in a few moments of shameless gossip as well. That is, until the new hire walked in, already late on his first day.