>You wake up Sunday morning at 8
>Sundays are early work days for you
>9 'til 4
>It's your one night off every week
>You get out of bed and, once you've showered, shaved, and brushed your teeth, go to the kitchen to make some coffee
>As you start making the coffee, you hear a knock at the door
>Still groggy, you pull it open to see a pair of yellow eyes looking back at you
>Well, ONE them looks at you. The other sort of drifts lazily, pointing off at the roof
>”Morning, Anon. I've got a letter for you!”
Thanks, Derpy
>The grey pegasus smiles and floats off, her wings taking her on a meandering path that can only  make sense to her
>You turn back inside and sit back down the the kitchen table
>The smell of brewing coffee overtakes the room as you open the envelope
>It's sealed with ornate violet wax
>Before you can read the letter, however, you glance up at the clock and see that it's already 8:30
>You pour what coffee has brewed into a cup, down it as fast as you can, and bolt out the door with your knives, leaving the letter unread on the kitchen table
>Sunday is the day you place the orders with your various suppliers of produce, dairy, and everything else the restaurant needs to run
>You can't afford to be late
1/x
 
>The kitchen is alive, as always, with the activity of the cooks and dishwashers
>You walk through, looking over what each pony is doing on your way to your office
>”Morning, Chef” they each call as you pass
>You get to your office and sit down at your desk, looking over the inventory list
>There are orders to place at each supplier
>You get to work writing down each order on a separate paper, listing each and every item that the restaurant needs for the coming week
>Everything from avocados to truffle oil gets tallied Saturday night by your Sous
>And every Sunday you take the list and place the orders
>It's mostly local suppliers; Ponyville has enough outlying farmland that the only things you need to send for ahead of time are the more high-end herbs and the specialty cheeses
>You finish filling the order sheets and call for one of the new kitchen ponies to take them over to the Post so you can get supplied on Monday
>A young unicorn comes in to take the papers
>The colt's got some innate talent; his cutie mark is a ladle and he makes a mean soup, but he's clumsy as all hell in the kitchen
>You've got him working prep and running messages until he gets his footing and develops his skills
>In a way you envy him
>You never got a clear sign telling you what your calling was
>You had to figure that out on your own, and even when you finally made it, you had to deal with uncertainty the whole way
>The clock reads 9:30 when you come out of the office to inspect the kitchen properly
>With a half hour until doors, you've got to make sure everything is presentable before service
2/x
 
>The restaurant opens for brunch at 10
>First customers start coming in at 10:15
>You're not expecting a very heavy service today
>Brunch is never as hectic, which is good
>You certainly need a light service after last night's gauntlet
>Orders start coming in after a few minutes
Table Fourteen: One hay fritte, one omelette!
>”Yes, Chef!”
>You look out over the counter at the dining room as it fills with patrons
>You've been here in this restaurant for a year and looking out into that sea of tables still fills you with a sense of pride
>More orders come in
>Restaurant Week goes until Thursday; you're stuck with the pre-fix menu until then
>You look forward to getting back to your real menu on Friday night
>Behind you the sounds of the kitchen have changed from the staccato clatter of knives chopping vegetables and the crackling of portion bags being filled
>In their place come the hiss of multiple griddles and pans and the sound of plates being stacked on counters to be filled
>Like music to your ears
>Your own personal symphony orchestra hustles and bustles behind you, the sounds of work and the smell of cooking food constantly remind you that you've got the best job in Equestria
Table Six: One omelette, one salad, one hay BLT!
>”Yes, Chef!”
>That uncertainty you had to work through when you started out only made you work harder
>It's what got you to try your damnedest to get yourself to the top
>And it paid off
3/x
 
>By noon the lunch rush has set in
>It's nothing compared to dinner service, but it keeps you on your feet nonetheless
>Even more so when you see the front doors open and a bespectacled mare enter with her entourage of assistants
>You make a note of where they're seated so you can go out and thank The Mayor in person later on
>Table Four
>A slight nervousness crawls into your gut and you power through the next ten minutes plating and checking dishes with intense focus to keep your mind occupied
>An order comes in from Table Four
>You relay it to the kitchen
Table Four: Two soup, one salad, one hay BLT, one hay fritte-
>You stop at the last item
>From behind you hear the response
>”Yes, Chef!”
>You read the last item and know immediately who ordered it
>This one you're doing yourself
>Mushroom risotto
>You look out into the sea of tables
>The Mayor sits at Table Four, talking with her assistants
>You catch her stealing a furtive glance at the kitchen and you wipe a drop of sweat from your brow unconsciously
>The risotto is a simple enough matter
>It's one of those dishes you can do in your sleep at this point, but for some reason you're focused on it more than usual
>You're not even sure why you decided to make it yourself
>Surely one of your cooks could handle something like this
>But you're doing it personally
>You shake your head and re-focus on the task at hand
>Now's not the time to get distracted
>You plate the risotto as the rest of Table Four's food comes up to the counter
Table Four: up!
4/x
 
>The waiter walks up to the counter and whisks the platter away
>You watch the steaming plates weave through the crowd for a few seconds before going back to work
Table Twenty: Two salad, one soup, one hay fritte!
>”Yes, Chef!”
>Service picks up even more around 1
Table Fourteen: Three soup, one salad, one hay BLT, two portabella!
>”Yes, Chef!”
Table Eleven: Up!
>You glance out at Table Four again and see the grey-maned Mayor sitting amongst her colleagues
>She ordered the risotto even though it's not on the lunch menu
>Normally you'd tell the waiter to have them choose something you're actually prepared for, but you made an exception when you recognized who had ordered it
>You're not sure why, though
>More orders come in and take your mind off questioning your own actions
Table Two: One salad, one hay BLT!
>”Yes, Chef!”
Table Seven: Two hay fritte, one portabella, one soup, one salad!
>”Yes, Chef!”
Table Twelve: Up!
>Waiters come and go, entering orders and taking platters out into the dining room
>For a half hour this goes on
>You see a waiter clear Table Four's plates and decide that now's as good a time as any to get out there
>Your Sous takes over plating while you walk out to Table Four
5/x
 
>The Mayor is seated with four other ponies, all looking official and important
>She looks to be somewhat stressed
>There must be something important going on in Ponyville
>You wipe some sweat from your palm and clear your throat as you approach the table
Good afternoon, sirs, madams, Madam Mayor. I trust everything was to your liking?
>”It was, Anon. I was talking to Rose just this morning and she told me that you'd added my little change to the menu?”
I did. I came over to thank you for the input and see how you're doing
>”Well, I must say I'm flattered. I don't often get recognized for my culinary interests”
You should. You've got a good palette. Have you studied food before?
>The Mayor looks at the table of ponies quickly
>They look confused
>One stallion leans into another's ear and whispers something
>The Mayor narrows her eyes slightly and turns back to you with a look of resignation
>”I shouldn't keep my colleagues waiting, Anon. We're having a lunch meeting at the moment”
>Her tone becomes abrasive, but her face doesn't match it
Alright, I'll excuse myself. Enjoy the rest of your day, everyp0ny
>You walk back to the kitchen confused
What just happened?
>You continue plating and checking dishes for another half hour
>The time crawls by now
>You were expecting to be able to talk to The Mayor a bit more, and her tone there at the end kind of took the wind out of your sails
>A waiter approaches the counter
>He hands you a slip of paper and trots off without a word
>You put your knife down and read the note
6/x
 
>”Sorry about before; I'd like to make it up to you with lunch tomorrow. Noon at the cafe”
>You look out and see The Mayor leaving the restaurant. She glances back and you nod in her direction
>You see a slight smile on her face as she turns and goes
>The rest of lunch service flies by
>The Mayor's note put you back in high spirits
>It's not long before the clock hits 4 and your shift is up
>You clear your station and wash your knives before heading to your office
>It was a good service
>The shift notes go up on the cork board and you take off your chef coat
>It's always roasting on the line
>Every time you step out of the kitchen, no matter how hot it is outside, it's as refreshing as jumping into a cold pool
>You walk out of the restaurant and start heading home
>”Uh, Chef? Mind if I walk with you? My house is the same way”
>The new colt you sent to order food walks sheepishly up to you as you stop and turn
Sure, what's up?
>The two of you turn down Mane Street
>”Well, first I wanted to thank you for giving me a job, Chef. The chef at the cafe said I was too awkward in the kitchen...”
You ARE awkward in the kitchen, kid
>He looks down
BUT, you're got potential. That other chef's an idiot if he doesn't see it. Keep doing what you're doing and doing it well, and in MY kitchen, you'll be working soup station all on your own someday
>The colt's face lights up. He opens his mouth to speak again
7/x
 
That said, I'm not giving you a raise. You're working minimum until you get your kitchen legs
>He closes his mouth for a second before the two of you start laughing
Don't worry, you'll find your groove soon enough
>”Thanks, Chef. You know you're not as bad as some of the cooks say.”
That's because you haven't screwed anything up yet
>He looks to see if you're joking
>You're not
>He gulps and you burst out laughing
Don't worry about it, kid. When I was starting out, my Chef in Fillydelphia would chew me out on a nightly basis. I was THAT bad
>”Really?”
Yeah. I'm tough because that's the only way for you to learn. No one's going to cut you any slack. Not in this business
>The colt's eyes show hesitation, but it's quickly replaced by determination
>”Thanks for the talk, Chef. I'll see you tomorrow!”
>He runs off to his house and you continue on your way
>That colt really does remind you of yourself
>You're glad to see there are ponies with that kind of spirit here in Ponyville
8/x
 
>You get home around 4:30
>The coffee from that morning is still in the pot and you dump it out
>No point keeping it until tomorrow; it'll just taste like crap
>You lay your knives out on the table to inspect them
>Taking out the steel, you give the 10” a quick run-over, the blade becoming a blur as you run it up and down the steel with lightning speed
>You look down and see the letter sticking out from under the knife kit
>After you've finished maintaining your tools you put them away and pick up the paper
>You read as you get up and pour yourself a drink
>Looking at the signature tells you that it's from Rarity
>”Anon, I know your schedule is terribly busy, but I did so enjoy our lunch that I had to try to make plans to spend some more time together”
>True, your schedule gets ridiculous this time of year. You certainly could do with some more time spent with your friends
>You keep reading
>”So, if you're available, why don't we have lunch Monday? There's a new place opening on the south side of town that I think you'd just adore! -Rarity”
>You read the end of the letter one more time
>She certainly is eager. The two of you just had lunch yesterday
>You wish you'd read the letter that morning morning...
>Then again, it's not like you could ask The Mayor to reschedule from across the dining room...
>You sigh in frustration before looking at the clock
>5:00
>You think for a minute or two before making a decision
>Then you're out the door, heading to Carousel Boutique
9/x
 
>As you raise your hand to knock on Rarity's door, it opens unexpectedly
>Sweetie Bell steps out and looks up at you, equally surprised
>”Oh, uh, hi, Anon”
>Her surprise wears off quickly
>”You looking for my sister?”
Yeah, I got her letter today and thought it'd be easier to respond in person
>”She's inside. Go on in”
Thanks, Sweetie Bell
>You start walking into the shop
>”Don't mention it. Oh, and Anon?”
>You turn back to the filly
>”Good luck”
>She winks and trots off, leaving you confused
>You make your way through the shop and hear the sewing machine's mechanical whir coming from the back
Rarity?
>”Anon? Is that you?”
>You hear the machine abruptly stop as Rarity trots into the room
>”How ARE you, Anon? Did you get my letter? You know the place I'm talking about, don't you? It sounds absolutely DIVINE, doesn't it?”
Yes, it sounds great, Rarity. But I wanted to come and let you know I've actually got plans tomorrow...
>Her face falls sharply
>”Plans?”
Yeah, I've got lunch with The Mayor tomorrow afternoon.
>She flashes a brief look of disbelief before recovering
>”Oh. Well. A- another time then. Thanks for letting me know, Anon.”
>You have a feeling you just goofed
>”Now, I've got some very important work to do, so if that's all...”
>You can't leave on THAT note. You scramble for something to pick up her spirits
Ok...why don't I make it up to you with dinner Wednesday? I can take the morning service and leave the night service to my Sous
>If her eyes lit up any more than they did just then, you might have gone blind
>”Why, I'd LOVE to! That sounds positively fabulous, Anon!”
Alright, Wednesday it is. I'll see you then
10/x
 
>You head to the cafe the next day
>As you walk up the street you find yourself getting slightly nervous
>You had gone home happy the day before, but something about Rarity's reactions seemed off to you
>Best ignore it for the moment: you've got lunch with The Mayor, after all
>Can't show up to something like that nervous about something else
>The Mayor is already seated when you arrive
>She smiles warmly and beckons you over to the table
>”Good afternoon, Anonymous. I'm glad you could make it”
So am I, Madam Mayor
>You take a seat across from the tan mare
>”Please, call me 'Em.' 'Madam Mayor' is much too formal”
Is 'Em' short for something?
>She smiles slightly
>”Later. I called you here for a couple reasons, actually”
Oh?
>”Yes. First, I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I did enjoy talking to you, but my colleagues can be a bit abrasive when it comes to potential rumors”
Rumors? About what?
>Em seems to shift her gaze a little bit
>”Just...anything my opponents could possibly use against me in an election year. It's nothing to worry about, Anon. Just meaningless political doings”
Alright, what about the other thing?
>”Ah, yes, of course. I'm hosting my annual fundraiser dinner in a few weeks and I wanted to see if I could get you to cater? After that wonderful dinner you served on Friday I'm confident you can blow my guests away.”
11/x
 
It'd be my pleasure, Mada-...Em.
>So far this is going really well
>If nothing else, you've scored a potentially lucrative catering gig for the restaurant
>A waiter comes and takes your orders
>Em takes her time deciding and settles on a salad after some time
>She's very particular about what she eats, she says
>You joke that you should know and the two of you share a laugh
>”So how did you come to be a chef, Anon?”
>Em leans forward and looks at you, curious
That's quite a long story
>”I've got time”
>You look at the town clock
>12:20
Okay, I started out about six years ago. I'd come to Equestria about a year or two before that; no memory of where I came from. All I knew was a name and a shoe-size and the latter turned out to be useless very quickly. So I spent a couple of years kind of wandering around, making a little money here and there doing sideshows and working bars and pubs in Fillydelphia.
>You look back at the early days and feel the sense of relief that came with putting them well behind you
>The food comes out to the table and you take a break from your story to eat
>Em eats her salad methodically, chewing slowly and savoring each bite
>You find yourself spacing out a little bit and shake your head to clear it
>Once you've both finished you continue your story
12/x
 
So I was working in one pub after about three months and the owner comes up to me and tells me his brother needs a new dishwasher in his restaurant in the Terminal Market. I went to work there for a few months, they moved me up to prep, and eventually up to working on the line after a year or so working there.
>”And that's when you started working to be a chef?”
No, that's when I got fired. Apparently some food critic didn't take too kindly to his meal being prepared by, and I quote, “A poorly-shaven monkey.”
>”That's terrible!”
Isn't it? The owner threw me out to please that critic and I spent a few months working two or three jobs to keep from getting evicted from my apartment. THAT'S when I decided to become a chef. I wasn't going to let a snobby critic force me out of the job on the grounds that “monkeys” can't cook. Been working my way up ever since.
>”That's a very inspiring story, Anon. Did the critic ever come around?”
No, he still hates me. When I helped cater the Gala a couple years ago and got glittering reviews from Celestia, he pretty much lost all credibility in the food world. He gets one or two articles published every so often, usually ranting about the state of cuisine these days
>”Well I'm glad you came to my little town. I'm sure we can look forward to great things from you, Anon.”
Thank you, Em. And about your fundraiser, when would you like to start planning the menu?
>”As soon as possible. When are you free to do it?”
How about Thursday around eleven? We can discuss cost and all those details then.
>”Sounds wonderful, Anon.”
13/x
 
>The check comes after a few more minutes
>You're about to take out your money when Em holds up a hoof
>”I'll take care of it, Anon. You'll pick up the next one”
>Traces of a coy smile appear on her lips
Alright, Em. Thanks for the lunch. Where should I meet you Thursday?
>”My house should will be fine. Think of some ideas for the menu and bring what you need to make some samples”
What about 'possible rumors?'
>You grin slightly as you ask
>”While my colleagues are certainly paranoid about giving my opponents ammo, I've been doing this long enough to know that having one of the best chefs in Equestria help with a fundraiser dinner hardly qualifies”
>You put out your hand and shake the tan mare's hoof
I'll see you Thursday, then
>”Until then, Chef”
>You walk home with a feeling you can't quite place and two hours until you have to head in to work
>Today has been a good day
14/x
 
>You get to the restaurant at 4:45
>The noise of the kitchen reverberates through you as you walk to your office and look over the shift notes from dinner and lunch
>Everything looks good, the orders all came in this morning, and the kitchen looks to be running smoothly
>You head to the owner's office to tell him about the catering job
>The owner is an older stallion with round glasses and a white mane
>He's ecstatic when you tell him the news
>”I knew I put you in charge of the kitchen for a reason, Anon. Putting together deals like this on your own? Outstanding”
Thank you sir. I'll be meeting with The Mayor later this week to discuss the menu and cost
>”Wonderful news! I'll be looking forward to hearing what she has to say”
>You walk back to the kitchen in high spirits
>When dinner service starts you go to your station and begin the night's work
>As you work, your Sous walks up next to you
>”Saw you this afternoon at the cafe, 'd your date with The Mayor go well?”
>You turn quickly around to look at the grinning stallion
Wasn't a date, we were having a business meeting. She wanted me to cater a fundraiser dinner she's throwing
>”Whatever you say, Chef”
>He thumps your back with his hoof
>”Just glad you're in a good mood. We've got a hundred covers reserved tonight”
What, are you worried? Get back to work
>”Yes, Chef”
>He laughs as he walks off and you turn your attention back to your work with your own grin on your face
>Restaurant Week has certainly gotten interesting
15/x
 
>Across town at Carousel Boutique, Rarity is pacing frantically
What was he meeting Mayor Mare for today? Was it just a business meeting? Oh, of course, it had to be...but what if it wasn't?
>Sweetie Bell rolls her eyes as she watches her sister from the bed
>”You're over thinking this, Rarity. Anon was probably just meeting The Mayor on business, like you said”
Yes, I know, but what if he WASN'T? She's not refined, she's a small-town pony Mayor who criticizes his wonderful cooking! It's the worst possible thing in the world!
>”Calm down, you're such a drama-queen, Rarity. You're having dinner with him on Wednesday, aren't you? Just be yourself and don't. Make. A scene”
Of course, you're right. I'll show him how much more refined I am than that silly old Mayor. Do you think I should make a new outfit for the occasion?
>”NO, Rarity. Just keep it simple. I can't believe I'M giving YOU advice on this. Aren't you supposed to be the older sister?”
I'm just so NERVOUS, Sweetie Bell. I need Wednesday to go perfectly so I can woo my high-class chef and live the Canterlot life-
>Rarity is cut off by an exasperated groan from her sister
Right, right. I'll take it slow. These sorts of things take time...
End