Honestly, work isn’t that bad, José finds the clamoring of pots and sizzling of stoves calming. Not to mention he’s gotten used to directing his coworkers as head chef. Perhaps the worst part of his job comes with being the closest to Ann- a woman José is continually disturbed by. Her inspections are frequent and spontaneous, with no strict schedule; which has taught José to improvise, be quick in the kitchen and on the floor (in his early days a waitress spilled red wine on a customer’s suit and José had to dispel the situation… truly the most nightmarish crash course in being a waiter he has ever recieved). Still, there’s nothing more nerve wracking than being under that woman’s eye. Ann is tall in both stature and spirit, leaving the kitchen with a permanent sense of dread. Of course José is the one that takes most of the criticism with Ann popping in to try his dishes: more salt, less pepper, don’t deviate from the recipe, satisfactory, scrap it, you call this cooking? José knows he can cook and cook well, but if there’s anything he’s learned from working for Ann it’s that ‘well’ is equivalent to the gum under his shoe, and his dishes have to be nothing less than divine.

To be perfect at measuring by eye, perfect at knowing something’s done by the smell, perfect at guiding his fellow workers, perfect at getting out dishes on time (always on time, before anyone can even think of complaining), has become José’s unsaid mantra. And he follows it, listens to the ticks of his pocket watch, the tempo for his next act. If Ann is the machine, José makes up the cogs, and though he would never say it, he knows he is the reason that Le Soliel continues to hold it’s 5 star rating. He thinks the pride of it all is what keeps him going, despite everything he hates about Ann. He will not make a mistake, will not back down from the pressure. As long as people continue to drool over his food, he knows he is doing something right, something good, something to be praised.