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cared for her grandmother, and Yasmin did what she could around Uni and work to help out. She didn’t have time for anything else. Late one Friday afternoon, Simon, the restaurant manager, who had all the authority of the job but only half the backbone to use it, stood by her as she checked the bookings. “Marcus is finishing up next month,” he said, staring down at the reservation sheet. “So, we’ll have to work out what we’re doing with the supervisor role.” Yasmin wasn’t quite sure where he was going with this, so she just said, “OK.” As Simon fluffed about, he added, “You know the floor better than most people here.” Bang, there it was. “Well, don’t look at me,” she laughed. “I’m definitely not looking for more hours.”
Simon gave what could have been a smile, but you could never be sure with him. “Nah, nah. I’m just saying, you know.” “Good. Because I couldn’t do it anyway. Between Uni and helping Mum with my nan, I’m flat out.” “Yeah. Of course, Matey.” Yasmin hated it when he called her “Matey”. And that was that… Or so Yasmin thought. On Tuesday night, as she was collecting orders from the kitchen, the Head Chef looked at her, happy as Larry. “Heard you’re taking Marcus’s job.” “What? Supervisor? No way, Chef, not true.” “Oh, Simon said you were. Thought it was true.” Yasmin’s first feeling was irritation, but she let it go. Then the bartender congratulated her, and one of the junior waiters asked if she could change his Sunday shifts when she took over the roster. And that was it; her irritation turned to pure anger. She replayed the conversation in her head. Had she not been clear? No, she had been crystal clear. It was just Simon; he didn’t like her answer.
She replayed the conversation in her head. Had she not been clear? No, she had been crystal clear. It was just Simon; he didn’t like her answer.
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GLOBAL PAYROLL MAGAZINE ISSUE 27
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