“Just a second,” I called out.  “That order again?”  Whew.  I grabbed a towel and some water.  My chef clothing was starting to get a little dirty!  Barbecue sauce stains all over the front.  I repeated the latest order back and started mixing the ingredients.  It was a shepherd’s pie.  This was on special this evening so I had quite a few orders for it already.  Mmmm.  Did that smell good.  My own break wasn’t for another four hours.  I couldn’t resist just a little tiny taste of the pie.  Yum!  “OK, Steven, get busy,” I reproached as I permitted myself one more spoonful of that luscious concoction.  “Get those burgers and dogs on!”  “Aye, aye, Sir,” Steve replied, saluting the air.  “Don’t get funny with me, kiddo,” I said.  “I’ll bust your butt right out of this shop!”  We were kidding around.  Steve is one of my best cooks, and to tell you the truth, I felt a little guilty that I was sampling the merchandise—if you know what I mean.  “More barbecue sauce,” called Shirley.  “On what?”  “On these here RIBS,” she said pointedly.  “Oh!  Those!!  Is that the Welsh’s order?  That was supposed to go out—oh, no!”  I yelled.  I had completely forgotten about the ribs order for the Welsh family.  They came every Friday evening.  The food was just sitting there, and it was starting to go cold.  Always something, always something, I muttered to myself, as sauce flew all over my apron, my hat, and the floor.  Got to do a really sweet clean-up later, I thought ruefully, or Mr. Bender will have all our heads!!!