Logs:Manager and Worker
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| RL Date: 7 June, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, Isidro |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Dee and Isidro have differences of opinion, but that won't stop the recruitment attempt. |
| Where: Kitchen, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 13, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Eadgyd/Mentions, Guzman/Mentions, Jemizen/Mentions |
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>---< Kitchen, Fort Weyr >---------------------------------------------------<
Fort's Kitchen is a large, well-appointed cavern that is designed for
efficiency. Granite counters, smoothed and polished through turns of use,
are tucked between the banks of stoves and ovens that share a wall with
the Living Cavern's hearth. A swinging door at the end of the hearth area
leads into the Living Cavern for easy set up and service of meals.
Additional workspace is available at half a dozen marble-topped, wooden
islands that line the middle of the Kitchen beneath hanging racks of
copper pots, pans, and other equipment. Each island has drawers that hold
smaller equipment like spoons, whisks, and rolling pins. Supplies are kept
on shelves along the walls with bulkier items available in Stores through
another swinging door at the back of the Kitchen. A row of utility sinks
line the wall beside that door for food prep and dishwashing.
The Kitchen is busy almost all day, the only expection being typically
between midnight and 4am when the bread bakers go on duty to bake the
daily bread. With the lunch rush just past, the kitchens is working at a slower pace to catch their breath, do the clean up and begin setting up for the inevitable coming of dinner preparations. It's these that probably has Dee arriving with her arms loaded with three squat crates of various ingredients from the stores. The way they're loaded, she can just rest her chin on the top most to keep it from getting away from her if her body shifts the wrong way. She's possibly as much of a danger with this as she is at clearing dishes. Possibly. During the lull, Isidro's got an armload of his own, going through the kitchen and hanging varioius clean pots back up on the hooks where they can gleam so nice and shiny until they're needed again in all of an hour. No hurry; it's mostly just a way of keeping busy until, oh, look, supplies. One last saucepan placed just so, and then he's heading over that way to put a hand on the topmost, steadying it until he can actually relieve her of that. "I don't know why it is they don't get someone... liftier to do the fetch-and-carry, but no, of course they don't. Let me take this--can you get the other two easier?" Which is to say, without breaking anybody's toes or ruining dinner, of course. "Hey," Dee protests, but not the part where she's relieved of her burden, "I'm pretty lifty," is her complaint. She makes a face at Isidro, but ruins it with a follow up smile, a small and close-lipped affair. "Yes, just tell me where they need to go. I used to fetch-and-carry for Old Guzman. He's ancient, my master back home," but her tone is too fond for any kind of real insult to the man. He's probably only old enough to be her father. "Did you ever do much fetch-and-carry where you're from?" His build wouldn't say so, but she won't be the hypocrite here and say it couldn't be so! "Okay, let's see--" Isidro puts the crate he's taken down on the counter, peers at it. "This one will need to go to the lady over there with the beak nose." Insults? Hey, that's the nose she's got. He takes the second crate to inspect it likewise, setting it down next to the first. "Back home, no. When it was real work at all, it was usually running information back and forth between the hold and the workers. Faranth knows I used to try to put on bulk when I was a little younger, but I am who I am. Which is the sort who tells other people what things to lift, when possible." Big smile for her, because it's not like he's actually in that position of management, is he? "Beak-?" Dee starts to either protest again or perhaps just wonder until her eyes catch sight of the woman and she has a, "Oh," and a smile she probably knows she shouldn't have; a smile that is quickly come and gone. "Really? What did you do there?" is curious. "I've only been to holdings with Old Guzman, and then, for not very long. A day at most." Evidently, Dee doesn't mind lifting for him. She moves to set the third crate beside the two he's examined, probably ready to take the first from him to deliver. Looking over the second crate: "This goes to the fat fellow with the big mole on his cheek." Isidro is at least descriptive, this is more helpful than names a Candidate might not yet know, right? Names he might not yet know himself. It might not be really nice, but there's not necessarily a great cruelty in it, either. "My father was--is--Holder. Acres and acres of cotton fields." His fingers pluck at his own shirt sleeve. "Awful stuff. Okay, this last one's also the beak-lady." He taps it with a finger as though she might somehow have lost track of them. "Oh," is surprised as Dee's eyes return from searching out the particular person Isidro means, looking at the older man as if perhaps she can discern his Holder-ness just by looking. "Cotton. I like cotton," unlike other girls, she means the crop, not the material made from it. "What's wrong with cotton?" she asks as if she can't imagine a thing in the world that would be. She reaches to stack the first box and the third, though doesn't move away with them just yet. Looking over the second crate: "This goes to the fat fellow with the big mole on his cheek." Isidro is at least descriptive, this is more helpful than names a Candidate might not yet know, right? Names he might not yet know himself. It might not be really nice, but there's not necessarily a great cruelty in it, either. "My father was--is--Holder. Acres and acres of cotton fields." His fingers pluck at his own shirt sleeve. "Awful stuff. Okay, this last one's also the beak-lady." He taps it with a finger as though she might somehow have lost track of them. "Oh," is surprised as Dee's eyes return from searching out the particular person Isidro means, looking at the older man as if perhaps she can discern his Holder-ness just by looking. "Cotton. I like cotton," unlike other girls, she means the crop, not the material made from it. "What's wrong with cotton?" she asks as if she can't imagine a thing in the world that would be. She reaches to stack the first box and the third, though doesn't move away with them just yet. What's wrong with it? She can't imagine a thing that would be; the look Isidro gives her back speaks to his inability to imagine why anybody wouldn't instantly know. "It's very labor-intensive. And nobody really wants to do it their whole lives, picking cotton. People come and go. You spend a lot of energy keeping them happy enough to do the work." Or you fall back on alternative forms of labor management and become a monster, but thankfully this is Pern. "Figure I'll leave the crack-of-dawn wake-ups and the dirt to those as mind it less." "But..." Dee still doesn't seem to understand the problem. "It's good work. Meaningful," she must really think so, the way she looks at Isidro with a confused thoughtfulness. "What's wrong with dawn?" Clearly, Isidro's going to have to do a lot of explaining to Dee if she's going to begin to understand where he's coming from. At least she seems willing to ask the questions and listen to the answers (even if it mayn't do any good in the end, anyway). "I don't mind getting up for breakfast once in awhile." Probably for working breakfast, given his current position; even Isidro's not so inclined to laze around in bed as to regularly miss one meal of the day, although it might explain his waistline. "And I'm sure it's meaningful for somebody." He leans against the counter, there, has a look around the kitchen. "My sister and her husband seem very happy. Wasn't right for me. I don't know that this is, either, but being able to do what I like when I'm not working goes a long way." His smile is sly. "Why're you here, if you like that kind of work so much?" "You could become a rider," Dee has to say this. Eadgyd did warn him she wanted to recruit him, didn't she? Well, here it comes. "I'm sure you could ask to Stand, if you liked. I don't think they would turn any member of the Weyr away," not after what happened. She'd like to think so anyway. She shifts the crates into her arms. "I like it, but I like the more complex versions of it better. Like making new varieties of crops and all that. I came for my brother, and for the eggs. I don't expect to find a lifemate out there, but I'm open to it." The last is said resolutely. "And when I don't," not if, "I'll go back to Southern, and my apprenticeship there." She has a plan. Ah, yes, forewarned of this. Armed with reasonable excuses. "Most of the folks around here who weren't Searched from elsewhere were bred here. They've got riders in their lineage all the way back. There's no reason to think a dragon would have any interest in me," Isidro dismisses this, with a wave of the hand. "But that's fine with me. Seems like an awfully rough time they have, at least in the beginning. Now, if I could jump straight to a grown dragon and an easy schedule and anybody I liked in my bed whenever I wanted it, sure." Big grin. "While I'm at it, I might as well hope to find a place where marks grow on trees." "There's no reason to think a dragon wouldn't, unless you know things about dragons that I don't," Dee answers with a touch of faux conspiracy. "Dragons have Impressed Holders before, you know." She flashes him a smile. "I'm sure if you could manage cotton for however many turns you did, early mornings with a baby dragon could be managed for the turn or so they're needy that way." It may be a tactical decision that Dee doesn't mention the fact that dragons can be morning people too. "Think about it?" She requests as she turns to head toward the beaked nose woman. A place where marks grow on trees might be as much a dream as her request, but if it is, it doesn't seem to bother her. The attempt has been made. |
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