The staff door was more of a number of stone steps leading into a dark and smoky tunnel rather than an official entrance. It didn't look very welcoming. Mitch cautiously made his way down the condensation covered steps - breaking a leg wouldn't be the best way to start the day - and pushed aside the metal chains that often acted as the door for restaurant kitchens.

"Uh...hello?" he called out into the dimness. He could see a light and hear the clanging of plates and the sizzling on food down the hallway but there was no one around to tell him where he was supposed to go.

"Hey!" A guy with a big beard and long hair, who was wearing a chef's hat, appeared from around the corner, having just finished emptying the trash. He walked over to Mitch with a huge smile on his face, waiting for him to explain why he was just peeping through the entrance.

Before Mitch could even reply, the guy had reached out and started shaking his hand. Uhh... Mitch was unused to this kind of unforced friendliness and was at a loss for words to start with. "...I'm Mitch Grassi..." he mumbled, finding his tongue again. "I start work here today? Kitchen assistant?"

He was replying with questions because this guy was still just staring and smiling at him, but looking like he hadn't a clue what he was talking about. Mitch just stared back, imagining he could see the gears in the guy's brain ticking over on this thought.

"Ah yeah!" Obviously something had suddenly clicked. "Of course man!" He shook Mitch's hand vigorously some more and breezed through the metal chains. "C'mon I'll show you where you can change. The name's Avi by the way," he added.

"You're a chef?" Mitch asked, following the smiley guy through a small door that lead into a staff changing room.

"Yeah, yeah! Sous chef!" Avi laughed. "What gave it away?" He joked, referring to the uniform he was wearing. Mitch just hoped the one he was given wasn't anything like the state of the clothes this guy was wearing.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Avi commented amiably, reaching into a drawer and pulling out the typical white jacket and pants.

"Not really, San Diego is practically melting." That statement...if Mitch had said it with more charisma, or even in any voice apart from the dull, bored one he used, then that sentence would have been received as a friendly jest rather than condescending. As it happened Avi's smile dropped as Mitch awkwardly stood there waiting for the man to leave so he could get ready.

"Right..." Avi drawled, "ah...you can get changed here and join us when you're ready. I'll have Kevin show you the ropes," the man informed him while he slowly backed away towards the door, his early happy demeanour thoroughly diminished.

"Okay. Thank you." Mitch said to no one, because Avi had already run away.

Well that was a good start. He'd somehow managed to alienate the friendliest man he had ever met within five minutes. Mitch had always thought he was good at talking to new people, but now realised that the new people in the past had always been rich businessmen and women. Making conversation with these kinds of people requires a different style of tact. What should he talk about then? Sport? Mitch knew nothing about sport.

As he pulled the uniform over his clothes - not a nice feeling at all in the heat - he grimaced as he noticed the old orange and yellow stains left over on the pants, and the stiffness of the jacket that gave him the impression it hadn't been washed since the last sweaty person had worn it. They were also about two sizes too big, giving him a kind of a melting snowman look. A far change from the smart designer suits that had been the norm back in the city.

He exited the staff room and made his way down the short hallway to what he assumed was the kitchen, judging by the large amounts of shouting and heat coming from that direction. He had to push his way through another load of those metal chains before he emerged into what could be described as controlled chaos. Or perhaps it was just chaos.

Everything in that kitchen was happening at superfast speed. There were about twelve people - mainly men - all dressed similarly to him rushing around, shouting at each other and sweating profusely. A chorus of "Yes, chef's" and one very loud "Wake up!" echoed around the grey metal and white tile kitchen. Mitch had never set foot in a restaurant kitchen before, so had no idea what the hygiene standard was meant to be but it was surprisingly not as bad as he had predicted. Everything was relatively clean and the utensils and equipment were mostly sparkling.

He spotted his only acquaintance so far talking to a dark skinned man while the latter was working a grill. As he walked up to them he saw Avi glance briefly behind him and mutter: "Be careful. Got a bit of a stick up his ass this one," loud enough for Mitch to hear. He didn't know if he was intended to or not.

Giving Avi a pat on the shoulder, the other man left his work station and walked over to Mitch, wiping his greasy hands on his pants.

"Mitch, a kitchen uniform suits you!" They shook hands, Mitch gritting his teeth as the grease got passed on to him.

C'mon, stop being such a baby, he chastised himself. If he was going to work here he was going to have to get used to a little bit of grease.

"I'm Kevin - one of four resident line cooks - I'll be keeping an eye on ya today," the man chatted away, leading Mitch to a work station in the corner of the kitchen. "You've already met Avi, that handsome fella over there is Mario," he pointed to a larger man who was busy serving food onto plates. "Then you've got," Kevin began listing and pointing to the rest of the staff but Mitch gave up listening. All he heard was "Spanish name", "Jamaican name", "country in Africa name", "Spanish name" again. He wasn't going to remember any of them.

"And the guy you don't want to get on the wrong side of is Cesar, he's exec chef," Kevin told him and Mitch did actually pay attention this time when the other man gestured to a Mexican man with a moustache that looked comically villainous, who doing most of the shouting. For him, Mitch did take a note of his name. He was he only guy he would be looking to impress in here.

"As a kitchen assistant, or prep cook as we say here, you'll have a whole load of responsibilities; making pasta to cleaning produce, I'm sure you know." Actually Mitch didn't know. What were these guys going to expect him to be able to do? I don't even know the first thing about making pasta, and I'm half Italian!

"The best part is you get to learn on the job from these geniuses!" He motioned to the rest of the kitchen staff. "The bad part is you're gonna have to get used to the monotony of shucking cases of corn," Kevin said with a grin. Why is everyone so happy here?

"This will be your trusty tool," his guide held up a roll of plastic wrap and set it in Mitch's hands. "And the words "yes" and "chef" will soon be the main part of your vocabulary," he finished before getting Mitch started by telling him to cut up and cook chicken ready for the mass stream of enchilada and taco orders they were bound to get at the lunch time rush.

Even that was a bit of stretch for Mitch's culinary talents, as he had to be corrected three times before he selected the right knife and then cut the chicken as if it might revive itself suddenly and attack him.

Kevin stood and watched with his eyebrows raised. "So how much experience did you say you had?" he slowly asked after a few minutes of watching Mitch work.

"I didn't."

"Yeah that's funny," he huffed out a small laugh. "How much experience have you had?" he asked again, this time with a voice that insisted he didn't want to be messed around any more.

"Business," Mitch simply answered, hoping the other guy would stop interrogating but apparently his chicken cutting skills were bad enough to demand answers as Kevin didn't let it go.

"What?" the man queried.

"I worked in business," Mitch repeated.

"The food business?"

"Nope. Advertising."

Kevin was quiet now but when Mitch risked a glance up at him he could see the look of wonder spread blatantly across the other man's face. It was a look that said "who the heck is this guy?". Mitch couldn't really blame him. If someone had turned up at his business saying their only previous experience had been in mechanics, he would have given them their notice instantly. At least it seemed like he was going to be able to stick around for a while here.

Still, Kevin quickly made his excuses to leave Mitch on his own once the younger man had started frying the chicken. "You carry on with that," he told him. "I've just gotta check something by Avi."

Right, this is easy. Just cook it until all the pink bits are gone. How hard can that be?

He wasn't filled with much confidence however as he overheard Kevin joking with Mario and Avi about the owner of the restaurant taking the term "saving money on lower-qualified staff" a little too seriously.

Mitch tried his best to ignore them and continued cooking the chicken, turning it over in the huge frying pan while it sizzled and spat at him until he heard the clinking of the metal chains once more and a loud voice booming through the kitchen.

"'Sup my bitches!" it greeted everyone and Mitch twisted his head to see a tall man cockily sauntering in like he owned the place. He looked to be the same age as him, although he couldn't have looked any more different. Wavy blond hair, scruffy beard, broad shoulders and a tattoo sleeve. It was true Mitch had a sleeve too, but he had been brought up to cover it up while at a place of work. Clearly this guy didn't have the same set of standards he did, with his shorts and sleeveless shirt.

The others seemed very pleased to see him though, the multiple greetings of "Eyy! Scotty!" and the complicated hand shake thing that Mitch thought only rappers did was proof that this "Scotty" was very popular here.

"Took your sweet time today dude!" Avi exclaimed, having to practically jump up to hang his arm around the blond man's shoulders. The man laughed and gave his colleague a shove off him, careful it wasn't in the direction of any cookers or knives.

"Had to take the fox for a check up of his leg," he explained himself. "I told you last week man I'd be running late!" he said, giving Avi's head another shove when the man tried to tackle him.

Mitch turned back to his chicken. Are they done yet? White meant they were done right? But what if they were still pink on the inside? He left them some more just to be safe while keeping a trained ear on the commotion behind him.

"Oh yeah, how's the little guy doing?" Kevin asked, about a fox? Did this guy have a pet fox in place of a normal dog? He certainly looks crazy enough.

"Well put it this way. His leg works well enough enough to be able to kick a soccer ball into my coffee this morning."

He heard the three men laugh and Kevin saying, "We have to arrange another day out soon brother, wha' d'you say? You, me, Avi and the fox!"

Sounds like the worst Dr Seuss book ever.

"What about me?" Another voice called out from across the kitchen.

"Ugh..." the sound of Scott's pretend groaning earned him an enraged reaction from the other.

"Oh fuck off!"

"Aww no!" Mitch felt a gust of wind as the blond ran past him a barrelled into the other chef. "I love you Mario!" he whined, wrapping the man in a large bear hug. "I love you, I love you, I love you" he declared, planting multiple kisses on the guy's cheek.

"Get off me you fool!" Mario screeched, but he was laughing along with the other staff.

This is what I have to work with? Mitch had never seen people act so unprofessional in the work place.

"Scott!" A stern voice finally reprimanded the man for his behaviour. It was not the first time Mitch had heard the executive chef shouting today but it still startled him every time.

"Yes chef!" The blond stood to attention, cutting out his impromptu love making session immediately.

"There a reason you're in here dressed like that?" the moustached man growled, referring to Scott's lack of uniform.

"No chef! Sorry chef!" the man barked out and quickly made his way to the staff room, rudely knocking past Mitch once more.

What's his job then? Mitch wondered. Probably a dishwasher, he decided.

To his horror, his question was soon answered when Scott returned five minutes later, fully decked out in a uniform the same as Avi's and began giving out his own directions to the other line cooks and tasting the food.

Seriously? This guy is a sous chef? How on earth had this idiot been able to work his way up to that job role?

After skipping between the different work stations, writing stuff in his notebook and getting his hands a bit dirty himself, he finally set his sights on Mitch, who had started on his second batch of chicken pieces.

"What's this then?" he asked, sidling up to Mitch with a wry smile on his face "New meat?" Unlike Kevin and Avi this guy wasn't all immediate friendliness and beaming smiles straight away, more just regarding him with cordial gaze, awaiting his reply.

Mitch didn't give him much. "My first day here," he stoically replied.

The blond leant against the work top and nodded a few times. "I'm Scott," he said, as he turned his head to Mitch, looking almost vacant.

"So I heard," Mitch said, once again keeping his answers as brief as possible. He really didn't want this guy around but he supposed technically this guy, along with Avi, were his superiors. Jeez, I really don't want to be sucking up to a guy who keeps a fox for a pet.

"You enjoyed the show?" Scott asked, peering down at the chicken Mitch was still slaving over.

"Well it wasn't entertaining," Mitch shot back, "or clever or funny so no." He flitted his eyes to the right to see the blond man still looking down at his chicken. He wondered if he was going to be met with some sort of rebuke but after a few more moments of staring Scott just glanced back up at him.

"You've overcooked it," he told him, gesturing to the shrivelled chicken pieces. "Do them again."

And with that he stood back up straight again and walked off, calling out to Kevin about getting some tickets to a Chargers game. Mitch had no idea if that was football, baseball, basketball or whatever. He didn't care.

Planting a sardonic smile on his face directed at the blond man's back, he quietly muttered "asshole," before stealthily swiping the chicken pieces into the trash and getting some fresh ones.

I remember my first day working at McDonald's as a kid...that was a shock to the system :D