Chapter Forty-Seven
Elio Capelli smiled as he stacked and picked up three large dirty plates from table twenty-two. "I'll bring you our dessert menu over."
Carrying them through to the kitchen, the first thing he noticed was how many staff he had on. The reason he noticed them: they didn't have enough to do. "Put your phones away, please. You know the rule."
His pot wash, a local lad of seventeen years took the dirty plates from him and dunked them in the water.
Worried about the wage bill eating into his profits, Elio thought about sending one of his chefs’ home, or maybe one of his waiters. It was still early lunchtime, and Saturday. He thought better of it. Some Saturdays were slow starters.
Martin, his assistant manager stood staring out of the window. "There must be thirty people
