line cook!johnny who’s the bane of the managers’ existence but loved unconditionally by his serving staff and hosts. the restaurant industry is, inherently, toxic. it’s shit money, oftentimes you’re treated like less than a human being solely because your career isn’t considered adult enough for most, and your superiors set these sky-high expectations from the jump. leave all your problems at the door, no one gives a shit what you’re going through, you’re not here to make friends, just to do the job no one else cares to do.
johnny doesn’t abide by their rules. he’s secure enough in his position that he knows he’s not going to be fired, and if he is, oh well, he’s got the experience and credentials needed to get the same job anywhere else, and he makes sure his managers know it. he will talk your ear off about how his ma’s been nagging him to settle down in the middle of a friday night rush, or tell the underpaid, sixteen year old hostess that it’s time for her break, though he doesn’t actually have that authority. he’ll befriend his fellow line cooks and invite them out for drinks even though it’s frowned upon, and leave the kitchen in his grease-stained tee and crocs to cuss out the customer who yelled at you about their steak being undercooked. “i was the one who made it, nothin’ to say to me?” it’s a miracle he’s still employed. there’s a rumor that they’ve tried to fire him, on more than one occasion, but he keeps clocking in anyways, and no one has the balls to tell him off.
he gives you free food when he notices you haven’t eaten, will stand guard outside the walk-in if you need a moment to yourself, and tells you how good you look in your new apron. and if you’re a bit clumsy, the type to drop at least one hot plate per shift, he never gets upset, not like the others do. “happens to the best of us, love, don’t stress,” “you’re doin’ all the hard work, anyways,”
will drop the absolute wildest, most unbelievable lore, completely out of the blue.
“what the fuck do you mean you were shot in the head?”
“aye, couple o’ years back, while i was diffusing this bomb,” as if it’s not the most insane sentence anyone’s ever said to you on a monday afternoon.
and when you finally do get together, after months of his shameless, relentless flirting? he’s insufferable about it. he’ll coerce you into that walk-in every chance he gets for a moment alone, cackling whenever one of your coworkers finds the two of you swapping spit in the dead of lunch rush. smacks your ass in front of the bosses and winks after, like someone who’s never heard of workplace harassment in all of his days. some guy gets handsy while you’re waiting his table, and here’s johnny, threatening to follow him home and reminding him to leave a very generous tip for the trouble he caused you. and god forbid your manager yells at you, johnny’s raising hell and HR’s definitely getting called.
he’s kind’ve awful, in his own, sweet way, and you love him for it. he knows you do, too, and lauds it over everyone’s head, all of the time.