Jake X Jane Homestuck Fanfiction

Pickle Rolls

Chapter Five : Pickle Rolls

Whenever my Dad came in to take over a restaurant, there was always one person who pretty much personified resistance. Someone who took each criticrism personally, fought every change, and could be counted upon to lead the bitch-and-moan brigade. At Luna Blu, that person was  Porrim.

I know it doesn't much match the description of Porrim herself, but I saved Vriska among a few chapters later but we can't leave Porrim hanging here, aye?

Anyways...

She was the current manager, the tall girl with the tattoos who'd finally gotten us a waitress. When I came in the next day for an early dinner, she was dressed in like an old-style pinup girl : dark hair worn down to her shoulders and bright red lipstick, black heels with the usual swirly tattoos around her arms and legs. She was pleasant as she got me a Coke, smiling and gracious as she put in my order. Once I was settled with my food and they sat down to talk, though, it was clear my dad had his work cut out for him.

"It's a bad idea," she was saying to him now from the other end of the bar. "People will revolt. They expect the rosemary rolls."

Get it?

Rosemary rolls? *wink wonk*

Alright, moving on~

"The regular customers expect them," my dad replied. "But you don't have that many regulars either and for the fact of the matter is, they're not a cost-effective or practical thing to be offering to people as a complimentary appetizer. What you want is more people ordering more drinks and food, not a few filling up on free stuff."

"But they serve a purpose," Porrim said, her voice slightly sharp. "Once people have a taste of the rolls, it makes them hungrier, and they order more than they would otherwise."

"So those people I saw sitting up here last night, drinking discount beer and eating rolls and nothing else," my dad replied, "they're an exception."

"They were only, like, two people at the bar last night!"

My dad turned his head to look at her. "Exactly."

Oh burn motherfucker.

Porrim just looked at him, her face flushing red. The truth was, no one looked kindly on their bosses bringing in a hired gun to tell them what they were doing wasn't working. It didn't matter if the place was losing money or had the worst reputation/food/bathrooms in town, and any and all improvements would only benefit them. People always complained at the beginning, and usually the senior staff members did it the loudest, which was why EAT INC. often fired them before we even showed up. For whatever reason, this was different and therefore difficult.

"Okay," she said now, her tone even, controlled, "so suppose we do away with the rolls, then. What will we offer people instead? Pretzels? Peanuts? Maybe they can throw away the shells on the floor to add more of that ambiance you're so sure we're lacking,"

"Nope." my dad smiled. "I'm thinking pickles, actually."

Porrim just looked at him. "Pickles," she repeated.

I watched as he picked up the menu in front of him. It was the same one I'd found on our kitchen table that morning, covered in notes and cross-outs in black Sharpie pen, so ravaged it looked like one of my term papers from what I'd taken AP English with my most hardest teacher in my last school. Based on just a glance, things didn't look too promising for most of the entrees and all of the desserts.

Now, he slid it between them on the bar, and Porrim's eyes widened. She looked so dismayed I couldn't even watch, instead going back to wrestling with the Sudoku puzzle in the paper someone had left behind on the bar. "Oh my God," she said, her voice low. "You're going to change everything, aren't you?"