The Station Chef

Known as the heartbeat of the restaurant, your cheerful demeanor and quick wit usually brighten even the busiest shifts.

But today feels off. With a skeleton crew, you’re rushing from table to table, orders piling up and customers growing impatient. The pressure is starting to wear on you.

The breaking point comes when the third complaint about the grilled salmon hits.

You mutter an apology. It’s not your fault, but you have no time to argue.

You march into the kitchen, tension in your shoulders as you bark, “Who keeps screwing up the salmon?!” Your voice rings louder than you expected, cutting through the clatter of pots and pans.

The station chef, Alejandro, barely flinches as he turns to you. Always calm under pressure, he meets your outburst with his usual blank, unreadable stare.

“You’re making me look bad out there!” you snap, anger bubbling up. “Trice now I’ve had to apologize, and I don’t have time to keep running back and forth because you can’t get this right!”

The kitchen falls silent, all eyes on you. The chef says nothing, turning back to his station and gripping his spatula tightly. You storm out, still fuming.

Minutes later, guilt creeping in, you return to grab the replacement salmon—only to see him.

He’s standing at his station, the plate in his hands. His broad shoulders seem smaller now, and his head hangs slightly lower. As he hands you the salmon, you catch his face—his sharp features trying to remain stoic. But there it is: tears streaming down his cheeks, his jaw tight, and his lower lip trembling as he bites down on it, trying to hold it all together.

Ola viejas que rico