Typical Day
After an incredible dream about swimming in a sea of steak, Brad the Butcher is up and at it at 4:00AM. He gets out of his custom-made bed (he's good with his hands), throws on his uniform (slacks, a polo shirt, and his signature striped apron), and gives himself a salute in the mirror before heading to the kitchen.
What's for breakfast? Bacon, of course. Forget the eggs; they'll only slow him down. He admires each cut and enjoys the wonderful smell sizzling up from the pan before devouring his handiwork and heading out the door.
Since Brad rents an apartment just down the street from his deli, he enjoys a pleasant stroll to work. On the way, he nods to other early birds who pass him on the street and stops a local shop owner to remind him that he'll be getting in some of his favorite steaks this week. He likes to keep tabs on what the locals like and keep them in mind when he orders. He also likes making money. The two go hand in hand.
When Brad gets to the shop, he sees that the muralist he hired finally finished the outer wall last night. A spare rib and a slice of bacon are holding hands with a heart around them and the words, "You'll love our cuts," scrawled above. It's pretty cute, and Brad can't help but smile as he heads into the deli.
Prep is the name of the morning game. Brad makes sure that his shop is clean, that all handling materials are stocked, and that his cash drawer is counted and ready for use. He then checks his inventory and awaits his daily drop-off at 5:30AM. Soon, he's chatting it up with his delivery man and checking his order against his records. He makes sure everything is accounted for and that he's received quality ingredients.
He asks the delivery man about his daughter's dance recital and gets a big smile and a twenty-minute recap of each moment. Brad nods and smiles. He's not as psyched about little Emily's solo as her dad is, but the smile on the delivery man's face ensures that Brad will keep getting the best service. It's all part of the game.
Next, Brad stocks his case and gets the best selections out on display. He inspects each piece again to guarantee the quality and safety of his meats. He'll do this again when he cuts them. You can never be too careful when it comes to meat.
Once all of the selections are out, Brad inspects all of his equipment, making sure the blades are sharp and all maintenance is up to date. Finally, at 7:00AM, he unlocks the door, flips the sign to "open," and waits for the customers to pour in.
The first customer is Mrs. Piccolo, an eighty-year-old Sicilian woman who only leaves her home to come to the deli. At least that's the name and background he's given to her in his head. Brad gives her a smile, but she's all business. She steps up to the counter and begins pointing and then holding up her fingers to indicate quantity. Brad's never heard her speak; she just points.
Brad slips on a fresh pair of gloves and works quickly to keep up. Five sausages, four steaks, eight legs of lamb...she just keeps pointing and pointing. By the time she's done, Brad's case is practically cleared out. The number on the register is in the triple digits, but Mrs. Piccolo doesn't even blink. She simply hands Brad an envelope of perfect change (how does she always know?), collects her packages, and heads out the door. Brad is a big fan of Mrs. Piccolo.
A few more customers trickle in, but the day is fairly slow after Mrs. Piccolo. Brad curses the major grocery store that opened a few blocks over and then remembers it's time to renew his food handler's permit.
He heads to the back, pulls out his computer, and heads to the state website, where there's a link for the permit test. He grabs his lunch from the refrigerator (a classic Reuben and a salad he promised his doctor he'd eat, but instead tosses to the side) and settles in for the test.
Just as he gets to the last question, he hears the bell above the door ring. He quickly clicks his way to the finish line and then hurries out to greet his customer. Except it's not just one customer—it's an onslaught of PTA members from the local middle school. They've forgotten about the annual potluck tonight and have only a few hours to get their dishes made. Not only are they in a hurry, but they need recipe ideas.
Brad rushes around, answering questions and suggesting selections as other parents try to push their way in and get the best of the best before their neighbor grabs it up. One dad asks about kabobs and sees the mother next to him start jotting down notes. He grabs her pen and tells her to get her own ideas.
Mania ensues.
Brad quickly defuses the situation by suggesting an exceptionally easy chicken pot pie recipe. The mother smiles and snatches her pen back as he details the steps.
After each parent has been cared for and sent out the door with a triple-inspected cut of the best meat money can buy, Brad sits back and takes a deep breath. It's always a rush when a huge, frantic group of parents comes in, and he needs a minute to let his heart settle back down.
As the clock strikes 8:00PM, Brad flips the sign to "closed" and cleans up his workspace. Every machine and surface is cleaned down and sanitized, all leftover meat is properly stored to ensure freshness, and all the accounting and paperwork is done for the next morning.
As he locks up, Brad thinks back to when he first came to the store straight out of high school. He had always admired the local butcher, Mr. Dringoli, so he asked if he'd be willing to train him. Mr. Dringoli threw him an apron and told him to get started.
Taking off his apron for the night, Brad can't help but think of his mentor and wonder if he ever thought it wasn't worth it. After all, the hours are long and the pay is dismal. He takes on the roles of counselor, teacher, salesman, and specialist all in a single day. Then he remembers the first time he saw Mr. Dringoli slice up a ham and thinks, You know what? We're the lucky ones.