It’s been a very busy day at work, I’ve been tolerating the amount of sweat coming from my body since the air conditioner is faulty again, I immersed the next chicken parm into the fryer while standing beside a 450o oven. I’ve been standing there the entire day, there were so many noises around, cooking pots and pans clattering, messy jokes being thrown around in Spanish, extremely hot oil bubbling and popping like air pocket wrap squeezed energetically between plump fingers.
I’m pursuing and struggling to get a good life and meet up my goals in L. A, though I’m working behind an Italian café, I’ve had a great deal of occupations earlier before my present job, I’ve worked as a political insider in DC, a logger chopping down trees in the Great Pacific Northwest and even as a person that basically fires and dismiss people in Vegas. All the job has it’s own problem and hardship but the worst part of them all is the chickens. As I gaze into the pot of oil, my brain races as quick as my heart. In the pan, there were 2 chicken breasts and I kept wondering how many chicken parms I had prepared and served during the rush.
I counted and found out that I had served at least 10 chickens during the dinner rush, I broke into a chilly sweat. I glance over to the cook preparing 2 sets of chicken piccata, my favorite of all time. I kept wondering how many chicken piccata he had made this night, maybe he had no idea how good he is at making chicken but does that make me pol pot? You wouldn’t blame us, we are simply following requests. I walked out of the restaurant to get fresh air and stroll around a little and then I saw 5 cans on the floor filled with chicken. I kept wondering how many chicken each bucket contains. As I stroll around with the air touching my body, my sweat felt like a needle pricking my body. I knew the next big thing that was going to happen unless I get outside. I closed the freezer and started walking away, no one appears to see me, except Panchito (the dishwasher).
That wasn’t his genuine name, however we previously had a Juan. Immediately he saw me, the next thing he said was “Estas bien’’? And I just nodded while he smiled and kept whistling his top American TV show; COPS. Our restaurant is one I f the 8 restaurants available in the Bel-Air Strip mall. I’ve always wondered about how many chickens our small restaurant produce and now let’s do the calculations. Just the dinner rush in our restaurant produced at least 20 chicken parmesean, we’ve not even added the amount of chicken piccata served during the rush. We serve at least 100 orders every day and hence 700 chickens every week since our restaurant functions 7 days for a week. In a year, the total amount of chicken served equals up to 36400 chickens. Now our menu contains chicken in every part including the sushi region, multiplying 3600 by 8 you get 291,200. So that means in a year we serve up to 291,200 chickens just in our parking lot, wow I wouldn’t want to believe this but the math shows everything.