The Executive Chef's Exit
Language: en
Payday. I stared at the direct deposit notification on my phone, my mind going completely blank. My salary was supposed to be nine thousand dollars a month. The text said fifty-five hundred. What really sent my blood pressure into the stratosphere was the news that Alex, the culinary school intern who’d only been here a year, got a raise. From seven grand a month to ten-five. What the hell was this? I was the executive chef who had dragged this place up from a greasy-spoon dive to a three-star Michelin restaurant. I hadn't seen a raise in five years. I'd spent every holiday season…