Page 84 of The Don’s Omega

“Yes.” The bartender is constantly turning from the people at the bar to build trays of drinks that runners snatch and carry to the floor.

“He’s making every cocktail for the dining room,” Elio says.

“That’s not normal?”

“Making them is normal. Making all of them by himself while he’s also covering the bar isn’t.” Elio nods toward the bartender, who’s already reaching for another glass before he’s finished with the first. “Every server ticket is going through him. And he still has actual bar guests waiting on him.”

I frown. “So he needs another bartender?”

“That would be a good start. He should at least have a barback.” Elio shakes his head. “Without help, even an experienced bartender would be drowning, and this kid isn’t experienced.”

“What’s a barback?”

“They’re the one who supports the bartender behind the scenes. There’s a lot to do besides just make drinks. A barback would help to restock glassware, change kegs, refill ice, cut fruit, run bottles, so the bar doesn’t collapse into chaos. Like it’s doing right now. This kid is having to do it all, which means he’s not being attentive to the people at the bar.”

“Some of the people sitting at the bar do look annoyed.”

“Of course they do.” Elio laughs gruffly. “The ones at the bar probably came in early for a drink and the view. They’re the ones you want to turn into regulars. Instead, they’re sitting there with empty glasses watching the bartender build somebody else’s mojitos.”

I scowl. “Probably comes off as rude.”

“Yes. It’s bad.” Elio shrugs. “The problem is the people at the bar will just leave. They probably won’t say anything. They simply never come back. But you can bet they’ll tell their friends that the bar at Cabrera’s is a joke.”

“Shit. This is worse than I thought.”

Elio gives me an uncertain look. “There are other problems too. Do you want to hear them, or have you heard enough?”

I clench my jaw. “Bring it on.”

“Okay, notice how the runners keep colliding at the kitchen pass? It’s because the in and out doors are the same door. That busser standing at the edge of the dining room has been there five minutes because he has no idea where he’s needed. No one is running the room. Marco should be doing that. But he’s too busy micromanaging the staff about things he doesn’t need to worry about. He’s not letting them do their jobs.”

“Where is Marco?”

“Near the kitchen,” Elio says with disgust. “He should be behind the bar helping out, or on the floor directing the busser.”

I glance toward the kitchen as a server passes the kitchen door. Marco says something to him, low, close to his ear, still wearing the front-of-house smile in case anyone’s watching. I can’t hear what he says, but the server’s face flinches like he’s been cut as he scurries away. Another server starts to walk past, and Marco’s hand lands on his shoulder. The gesture looks warm from across the room, but it clearly isn’t if the kid’s uneasy expression is anything to go by.

“It looks like Marco is trying to keep things moving. He’s directing people,” I say, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“He’s not directing them, he’s intimidating them. Criticizing them. There’s a difference. Your customers feel how uneasy the staff is which will make their experience less enjoyable.” He turns his water glass slowly, not drinking. “I’ve worked for Marco’s type before. More than once.”

“Did you?” I frown.

“Yes.”

“He came with good references. I’ve always thought he was good at his job.”

Elio lifts one shoulder. “The problem is you don’t see the real Marco. You probably think you’ve got a star manager because he’s all charm when you’re around. Meanwhile he’s churning through staff because nobody can stand to work for him. Your turnover’s killing you. My guess is you can’t keep any trained staff because Marco is driving them off.”

“He’s really that bad?”

“Yes, Marcello. Can’t you see how cowed the staff is? God, would you want to work for an asshole, when there are other places you could work where they treat you with respect? I’m beginning to think Cabrera’s problem isn’t the layout,” he says quietly. “I mean, the layout’s not perfect. You could fix a few things. But that’s not why people don’t come back.”

“I had no idea Marco was a problem.”

“I wouldn’t work for him. He’s a snake.” He sighs. “He’ll kiss your ring until his lips bleed because you’re the one who signs the checks. But the staff is being terrorized. I’d be surprised if we came back in a week and saw any of the same people still working here.”

“It is taking a while to be served.” I glance at my watch. “We’ve been sitting here fifteen minutes and we still don’t have our wine, and the girl hasn’t taken our dinner order.”