You have to prepare the various types of flour for the other employees, Raissa explains to .
Make the work easier for the others, I nod. Ive had high schoolers in the past co work for to make a few bucks and they did pretty much the sa kind of things.
Maybe another person in my position would be offended by the humble job they just gave , but I really dont care.
We have put tags to make this easier for people trying out the job. And dont worry, everyone started out doing this, she adds with a sweet tone in her voice, probably thinking Id be bumd out by the work.
Girl, I have Italian Arican parents. I know a degree of exploitation that you have no idea of. I slaved away countless tis in the family restaurant.
Moving a few ingredients around and arranging them between tables? Tsk, its nothing for this big boy.
Sure, its nothing until I see that the flour bags that she wants to haul probably weight around 120 pounds each.
Wait a second, how much bread do you even ship out every day?
She shrugs.
No idea. But we go through ten to fifteen of those bags each day, just for the bread. We always make a bit more for the Watch too, just in case.
Goddamn dieval tis and their carb-rich diets.
I can already feel my arms turning to jelly, but I just keep smiling while I slowly die inside.
Wait.
My ears turn off while I watch the shorter and thinner girl.
How does she take those huge bags?
What level are you in cooking-related classes? I hear Raissa ask.
No classes yet, I smile.
Oh, she looks at with a slight frown.
Once again, Im one of those people. At least, thats what her stare tells .
But it doesnt really matter. I can change peoples mind. Ive done it before, and I can do it again, baby!
Then, you have to put all the necessary bowls on the tables. You will find them in the cupboard. Ill show you, dont worry.
Raissa goes on and explains to a very neat system.
Its a good thing that I have a mory of steel for everything related to baking. I still cannot rember my parents birthdays, but I could recall a thousand and one recipes in an instant
She asks for a demonstration, and I start hauling one of those giant sacks of flour. We have so big bags in my own bakery too, but I started ordering the smaller ones to make it more convenient for and my employees to move them around.
My mother used a not-very-nice adjective that I shall not repeat to describe my laziness.
I put the right bowls, so wooden spoons, salt and so on, on the table.
As soon as Im done with the first twelve tables, I notice sothing.
Wheres the yeast? I ask confused. The sugar is missing too, but if the yeast is not there, it does make sense that theres no sugar.
The what? Raissa looks at curiously.
Holy.
They dont use yeast.
WE ARE BECOMING RICH, BABY!
Nothing, it doesnt matter, I say while an idea creeps in, can you point out a place where I can buy beer wholesale, perhaps?
Sure, there are a few breweries I can show you on the city map later.
Im so going to blow Clodias mind!
Im so exhilarated that I almost dont feel the pain in my arms while I carry the last bags of flour.
Even if it looks easy, it takes almost two hours to arrange everything, clean the tables from residues of the previous night, and double check the tools to make sure they are both clean and still perfectly functioning.
By the end of it, I realize that Im quite dead. I dont take the night shift in my bakery anymore, thankfully. But I was transported to this new dinsion in the evening and now its morning. Even if I joked about it before, I am jet-lagged.
Wait, dinsion-lagged?
There is a joke there. Its better if I start thinking about it. Im sure Ill be abducted or sothing at so point, and I might need so humor to entertain my captors and make sure they dont skin alive too soon.
My mom always tells Im way too paranoid. I like to think Im very prepared. I always tell her that if I ever end up in prison because of so clerical stuff I didnt do which she says is impossible, but thats because she trusts them I already have a plan sketched out.
Im a baker, right? I will probably go to a minimum-security prison, or even get house arrest.
So, if I got min-security, Id simply ask the prison ward to have lead a baking program. Then, Ill pay off my dues to so gangs in the form of sweets.
I can imagine the conversations.
Yo, Joey Luciani is a good piece of ass.
You better not touch him, pal.
Oh, and why is that?
Hes under the protection of the cake-act. He makes cakes for all the gangs, and no one touches his ass.
Thats my plan in case I go to prison.
If they get a house arrest, Ill just open a baking account on social dia. I think we might have one, but Im not sure. My mother records around a hundred videos of doing stuff every day. It may be that she either forgets my face when she goes back ho and doesnt see for barely ten hours, or we do have a social dia account and she opened it without my permission.
Knowing the woman, Id say we have a 50-50 chance of it being one or another. Or even both.
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