Chapter 629: Newlywed Chefs (3)
Chapter 629: Newlywed Chefs (3)
Upon hearing this, Kaya smiled bitterly. “I have no intention of hiring just anyone.”
“Really?”
“When people see us living joyfully, they assume life is a show, not reality. We’re not opening a restaurant to play house. I won’t hire those without cooking talent or qualifications just because their dreams are appealing.”
Gwen felt guilty hearing this. She was obviously no untalented cook—being second in the Grand Chef competition was an achievement many formally trained chefs never reached. Yet she felt small hearing such words. She lacked full confidence. Despite praise, it felt hollow, as if she wore a mask disguising her true, worthless self—a former drug addict.
Of course, Kaya couldn’t read Gwen’s mind. Even if she could, she wouldn’t care; she wasn’t a psychiatrist and couldn’t fix Gwen’s problems for her.
“Well, I expect to interview fewer than a hundred people in person,” Kaya said, sipping whiskey. “Over five hundred dropped out. Many without proper culinary careers, some fresh from school, didn’t even apply. It surprised me they all went for the demi-chef position.”
Those without experience applying for the demi-chef role might mean some underrated Lotus Bridge’s kitchen prestige.
Minjoon had secured a demi-chef position with no formal training, but that was rare—he earned it through Rachel’s favour and his Grand Chef excellence.
The same applied to Gwen. After serious consideration, Minjoon and Kaya offered her the demi-chef spot. It wasn’t easy—she had no real kitchen career—but her skills exceeded her resume. Luckily, their restaurant wasn’t open yet, leaving time to acclimatise the kitchen team. Her limited experience could be compensated by working alongside talented staff.
“It’s funny,” said Janet, Rose Island’s demi-chef, patting Catherine’s back. “We auditioned once, and now we host auditions. Time flies. We didn’t even realise we grew in value with experience.”
Janet recalled a joke about white men in America: as they age, they earn money by merely sitting in an office chair. Was their success from age or competence?
Janet glanced at Minjoon and Kaya. They seemed unfazed, confident in their merit—perhaps even prouder of themselves than others were.
Gwen thought them admirable, wishing she could live with their mindset.
Lotus Bridge was in downtown Los Angeles. Contrary to many’s envy, LA wasn’t glamorous. The neighbourhood was dangerous and outdated, with old buildings. The Lotus Bridge building overwhelmed visitors from the moment they entered.
Lee Minwoo swallowed nervously. He knew Lotus Bridge replaced the original Rose Island location. Given that name, he expected glamour. But that wasn’t his current concern.
Standing in the golden elevator, Minwoo blanked, forgetting which floor to press. The elevator stalled.
Moments later, a dark-skinned woman entered, startled to see him.
“What are you doing?”
“Pardon?”
“Why stand still on an elevator instead of going up?”
“Oh, really? Didn’t it move?”
She eyed him as if he were a flake. Many flakes in LA; he didn’t surprise her.
When he still didn’t press a button after she did, she reluctantly turned around several times, then spoke as the elevator started ascending.
“Aren’t you going to press a button?”
“Well, I’m going to the same floor.”
“….”
“Seriously. You’re going to Lotus Bridge, right?”
“Yes.”
“We’re in the same boat. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” he answered awkwardly.
Initially thinking him odd, she felt embarrassed on learning he was also an applicant. Pressed for time, she breathed deeply and scanned the door, determined not to miss a once-in-a-lifetime chance for a Lotus Bridge job.
Minjoon and Kaya were America’s most popular chefs. Many reasons explained their fame, but foremost were their skills. Their talent ensured their survival.
She believed environment mattered most. Beggars cluster near beggars; the rich attract the rich. Minjoon and Kaya were the best environment she could ask for.
Confident in her elite training and culinary school pedigree, and experience in a well-known restaurant, she felt she had no reason to lose.
Rumour had it many applicants had no suitable experience, so she wasn’t nervous.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Jill.”
“Jill’s a pretty name. I’m Minwoo.”
“I like your name too.”
She answered perfunctorily. Noting this, Minwoo said no more. Both were tense—if she wished silence, he respected it.
The elevator ascended slowly to their top-floor destination. He silently wished the doors opened sooner; he felt stifled.
Then, as the elevator opened to Lotus Bridge, he gasped. Shoulders felt momentarily crushed to see the many applicants chatting and relaxing.
The numerous tense applicants unnerved him. Few wore makeup, dressed practically for the cooking audition—a stark contrast to his hurried arrival in a hoodie.
Some found like-minded others, laughing and chatting. Watching, Minwoo felt small. After all, he was once only a McDonald’s patty baker—experience he wisely excluded from his CV.