Holly versus Mr. Ivy by Amanda P. Jones
Chapter 4
Rhett
easily concluded we had problems. Major ones. How had the restaurant been profitable at all? Instead of starting from scratch, since we really didn’t have time for that, my focus was on working with what we had.
But it wouldn’t be easy. Good thing I tried to find the positive as much as possible, since Holly’s employees constantly talked about her behind her back and rolled their eyes at her any time she spoke. Granted, she ran a tight ship, but more often than not, they deserved the reprimand. We somehow had to get her employees to show some respect.
The servers acted like they’d never done their job before. When a table’s order was set under the warming lights, they should have immediately taken it out to customers. It baffled me how often Kevin, the senior chef, had to remind the waitstaff that food sat there clogging the counter.
Those weren’t the only issues. We had little to no online presence, and our menu hadn’t changed in years. After observing and diving into the operations of the restaurant, my report to turn The Boardwalk into a well-oiled machine was as thick as an encyclopedia.
My meeting with Holly was happening today before the rest of the staff came in.
I unlocked the back door of the restaurant and flipped on the lights in the hallway. I’d come early, armed with drinks and pastries, ready to explain my plan to Holly.
Five minutes later, Holly, in her usual uniform of black slacks, black Keds, and a white shirt, ambled into my office. She somehow made the drab attire attractive. My dormant heart skipped a beat at the sight of her.
“Let’s get this over with.” She plopped down on the chair across from my desk, holding an iPad.
Her shoulder-length black hair had waves in it today. They made her more feminine, softer somehow, than her typical straight, no-nonsense style. No wonder my heart reacted to seeing her.
“Hello to you too, Holly,” I greeted her.
Without looking up from her tablet, she responded, “It’s Chef Dewhurst.”
Right. I needed to remember that. “My apologies.”
“Can we get on with the meeting? I have things to do.”
I pointed to the refreshments I’d brought. “Eat first.”
She sighed as if consuming a treat was the same as ingesting liquid antacid.
“They’re not poisoned.” I slid a drink toward her.
She snatched the pink and white donut and took a big bite. “Apee mow?” she said through a mouthful of fried dough.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning. Holly was by far the most professional chef I’d ever worked with. Which wasn’t a bad thing. I just liked to get to know people better, learn about their life outside of work, and she did not. “I am happy. Thank you. I looked at your employee file. You’ve been here three years. Are you satisfied with your job?”
Her brows furrowed. “What does that matter?”
Uh, it mattered a lot. If Holly was miserable, I needed to find a way to fix the problem. “It matters to me.”
“Why?” she challenged.
I clasped my hands on top of my desk. “Because I don’t like knowing people hate their job.”
She placed her half-eaten donut on the napkin she’d left on my desk, then licked her fingers. My stomach swooped as my brain conjured an image of me removing the sticky frosting from her appendages. I had to look away. I’d been around plenty of attractive women. Why did this one stir all these feelings inside me when it was clear as a spring day that Holly disliked me?
“Listen, Mr. Ivy—”
“It’s Rhett,” I exasperatedly cut her off. Why was using my first name such a chore for her?
“Mr. Ivy,” she continued, undeterred, “I don’t see how my happiness matters one way or the other when it comes to my job. I do what I have to do in my kitchen. My personal life, emotions, and feelings have nothing to do with my performance here. Got it?”
I leaned back in my chair, barely containing my self-satisfied smile. “As painful as this may be for you to accept, studies have proven happy employees perform twenty percent better.” I was practically humming with delight at her eye roll.
“I’m fine,” she grumbled.
Liar. I boomed out a laugh. “If you say so.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I am simply doing what any good leader would by displaying the behavior I expect from my staff.”
Ah. I understood from her perspective why she would think that. It was hard to argue with that logic even if an extrovert like me struggled with the way she did things. “I see. And there’s no discussing possible ways to change things up?”
She stiffened. “Is today’s meeting about everything you claim I’m doing wrong? Or was there an actual point in me coming in early besides being your scapegoat?”
That hadn’t been my intent at all. I picked up the pen sitting beside my keyboard and tapped it against my desk. “We have a lot to discuss. I’m sorry you feel attacked, but I sincerely want to know if you’re happy, because it determines what happens next.”
She looked at her fingers resting in her lap. “If I say no, are you going to tell your uncle to fire me?”
Wait… if she wasn’t satisfied with her job, why had she stayed so long? Better yet, why had she not made adjustments to make The Boardwalk what she wanted? Regardless, I’d been in enough kitchens to know a good executive chef when I saw one. Letting Holly go wasn’t an option. “Quite the opposite, actually.”
“Explain. Please.”
I swiveled my computer screen so she could see the presentation I’d prepared. The first slide included a graph chart with answers from every employee regarding how they felt about the work environment at the restaurant.
“Only three percent of the entire restaurant staff stated they were content with the way things are currently operating.”
She flinched. “And it’s all my fault?”
There was more to the story than just her. “No. What I’m saying is our first priority is improving the work environment. I noticed it the very first day. Everyone is on eggshells around here. I’m not saying we turn into a frat house, but we need to create camaraderie.” My hope was that in making Holly aware of the situation, she’d be able to help me improve the overall feeling at the restaurant. Just like I needed to figure out a way to get the waitstaff to be more alert and on top of things. If everyone put in an effort to improve, we could reach our goal.
She picked up her donut and nibbled on it. “How?”
I clicked to the next slide. “A party.”
She snorted. “Of course you’d think a party would solve a problem.”
Of course you’d shoot the idea down. I ignored her barb. “We’ll do it here at the restaurant before we open. We’ll ask someone else to cater it so no one has to work extra hours. We’ll play a few games, relax, talk to each other, that kind of thing. And introduce a reward system.”
“If you think I want to spend my non-working hours with Darby and Josh, you’re highly mistaken. I’d rather cut off my finger.” She mimed chopping off her appendages.
Neither did I, but for the sake of the restaurant, I would. “We need our executive chef to keep all her fingers intact.” How did I get Holly to see how important this was? “I know it isn’t what anyone wants to do, but it needs to be done. The atmosphere here needs to change before we can implement the rest of our plans.”
“Can’t we just let some people go? It certainly would improve my mood.”
I grimaced. That aspect of my job was a last resort. Ending someone’s career, taking away their financial security, completely sucked. From what I’d observed, if Darby and Josh were gone, the atmosphere in the kitchen would improve drastically, and in turn, things might not be as tense. But could I do it? Would I be able to handle the burden of guilt? Did we have enough time to train new employees?
If, and that was a big IF, we went that route, then maybe we went all in and let go of all the employees who currently weren’t working at an acceptable level. “Is that really what you want?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I’d certainly prefer that over pretending to have fun at a party with Darby and Josh.”
“And you don’t think there’s a possibility of them making any improvements, even when you haven’t heard my full plan yet?”
Holly let out an impatient sigh. “From the moment I was hired, Darby hasn’t liked me. No, I don’t think whatever genius idea you have will make a bit of difference. Our best option is to let her go.”
I slowly nodded, soaking in her words as dread filled my stomach. “Okay. If that’s what you want, I’ll support your decision.” I hate letting people go.
“Thank you.”
I stared at the grains of wood on my desktop. “You’re welcome.”
“What do we do while we’re trying to hire new employees?”
We couldn’t operate without being fully staffed. “We interview first. Once we find candidates, then we let the others go.”
“Okay.” She slid down in her chair. “You know, I despise this part of management. I’ve suffered with those two simply because the last time I told someone to pack up and not come back, I…” She picked at a button on her shirt.
Whoa!Was Holly sharing a vulnerability? I liked it. I liked knowing I wasn’t the only one who struggled with letting people go. I liked knowing we had something in common. That she had difficulties just like I did. “You what?” I gently prodded.
“I felt guilty for a long time. I didn’t eat or sleep for at least a week after.”
I could relate. “The first time I had to fire someone, I ran to the bathroom and puked right after.” Nausea still brewed any time I terminated an employee, but at least I hadn’t spewed my guts since that first time. I guess that was a win? “Let’s do it together, when the time comes.”
A brief smile flitted across her lips. “You’re a puker, huh?”
Despite the heavy topic, I smiled at Holly’s attempt to lighten the mood. “You better have a trashcan ready when the time comes.”
“I’ll bring in a few in case it becomes explosive.” She smiled. Then, as if realizing what her lips were doing, she schooled them back to a neutral line. “Back to this party. When will it be, and what do you need from me?”
Right. No messing around with Holly. Professional mode only. “I’d like to plan the party for a few days after the new hires arrive. Can you post the job listings for your staff today?”
“Yeah.” She rubbed her forehead. “But I can’t work extra hours. I have…stuff at home that I can’t get out of. I really can’t come in early to conduct interviews.”
Stuff? Sounded a little vague, but Holly clearly liked to keep information to herself. If we were going to meet our goal, we didn’t really have a choice but to work extra hours. “I’m not trying to be a jerk here, but sacrifices will have to be made. It’s just the way it is until we increase profits.”
Her nostrils flared. “I’ll post the positions today. What’s next on your agenda?”
“Can you set up a meeting with our produce supplier? Our costs are high, but I have an idea that may work moving forward to reduce our costs.”
She looked at the ceiling. “Yes. But it will have to wait until after interviews are done. As I said before, I have other commitments outside of work hours, and it’s not easy for me to dedicate my entire day to the restaurant.”
“This may come as a shock to you”—I smirked—“but I don’t like working twenty-four-seven either.” It really wasn’t good for my mental health.
She snorted. “That is shocking.”
“Ha-ha,” I deadpanned. “Our action items for now are to post available positions and get new staff hired as soon as possible. Once that’s taken care of, we’ll set a date for the party. If you can order the food, I’ll do the rest.”
She scribbled something on her tablet with a stylus. “Done. You mentioned a reward system. What did you have in mind?”
It was the same program I’d put into place in previous restaurants. “I’d like to do bi-annual performance reviews with each employee.” I held up a hand to stop her protest. “First, there’s a quiz I’d like everyone to take about strengths. It’s quick and easy. But it will give us a baseline for who excels where. After everyone knows their top five strengths, I’d like you and me, along with each employee, to establish three goals they want to work on. They’ll be graded on the typical A through F scale on how they’re performing. If an employee receives all A’s, they’ll get a bonus. If they get a mix of A’s and B’s, they’ll get a gift card. If they get anything less than all B’s, they’ll be given a warning. If they don’t improve by the next review, it’s up to us to determine if they’re terminated or put on probation with one more chance to prove themselves.”
Holly’s eyes glazed over.
“I know this is a lot,” I said. “I promise you, I’ve applied similar strategies in other restaurants, and it works. Employees get a chance to work with us to create their goals, and they get rewarded, which increases workplace productivity and makes for an overall happier environment. Not to mention, you have employees you actually want to work with and help improve their skill set.”
Her shoulders sagged. “What you’re proposing sounds like a good idea. I’m just overwhelmed by it all.”
I empathized with her. The scope of everything we had to accomplish to reach our goal in time was like being told all the elves at the North Pole had quit and it was up to Holly and me to save Christmas. It was daunting and super stressful. But if we worked together, it would ease both our burdens.
“Holly—” I caught myself and started over in a kinder tone. “Chef Dewhurst, I’m not trying to swoop in here and complicate your life or demand you spend every waking moment at the restaurant. I am asking a lot, but these extra requirements won’t last forever.” I paused, worried what she’d think about my next suggestion. “I recommend that Nico and Kevin cover the kitchen for you a few hours every evening so you can focus on the management side of the business. Once the party is over, we’ve visited suppliers, and established this new employee reward and review system, you can go back to cooking full time.”
Her lips pulled into a straight line. After a moment she said, “I’ll talk to Nico and Kevin. To clarify, I’m only in charge of implementing the employee review with my staff, correct? I don’t need to help with yours?”
“You don’t need to worry about anyone outside the kitchen.”
Her brows furrowed. “And I can do mine on my own? Without you?”
Did she hate spending time in my company that much? My ego took a hit every meeting I had with Holly.I rubbed the side of my neck. “Since this is the first time you’re hearing about this program, I will assist so you can see how it works. In six months, you can decide if you want to handle them by yourself.”
“Fine.”
I held my hands out. “Great. That’s all I wanted to discuss today. Please keep me updated when you schedule interviews. I’d like to help.”
Holly stood. “I will.”
“If you need assistance with anything else, please let me know.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, walking out the door.
Of course she’d say that.
Why would Holly ever need anything from me?