Here we go. Two covers, Table 21: two mussels, entrée: one halibut, one New York Strip.
Yes, chef!
Two minutes on this order: one halibut, one New York!
Three minutes, heard.
Who called? What's she yelling about? Susan called out halibut, New York steak and we haven't sent out the appetisers. What's going, Susan?
Right now, we have one halibut, and one New York!
Hey, all of you, come here! Stop what you're doing, all of you. She's firing entrées, one halibut, one New York strip. FYI, dumbo, we haven't even sent the appetisers!
(interview) What is Susan thinking right now? Like, what are you thinking Susan?
Is the ticket crossed out?
No, chef.
What are you doing to them?
We fired that ticket, chef.
Who's "we"?! I didn't!
She's screwed.
All of a sudden, you're the chef, right?
No, chef! No!
Step up. Here you go. (takes off his apron and gives it to Susan) Here you go. You fucking run it then. Here you go. Andi, leave her alone.
(interview) Susan can't even give correct times on her own station. She's running the kitchen? (sighs) We're fucked.
Sorry.
You run it! Fuck it, there you go, run it! (tosses his tongs on the hotplate) Fucking good luck. Off you go. This is a fucking joke. Andi, fuck them! Leave them! (Gordon and Andi walk out of the kitchen) Pathetic!
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