The expediter at the Italian house on the mall's east block has a printout taped to the kitchen pass. The printout is a corporate catering order. It is for the Amex South Florida sales operations team, twenty seven heads, drop off in the lobby of Building 100 on University Drive tomorrow at eleven thirty sharp. The order is on a corporate Amex card, twelve hundred dollars before tax, twelve hundred and eighty four after the seven percent that Broward layers on the Florida six. The corporate admin who placed it had to call twice because the expediter's online catering form did not let her change the delivery time from twelve to eleven thirty without starting over.
At the host stand, a family of six is being walked to a booth. Two grandparents in for the holidays from Caracas, two parents who work at Lenovo's University Drive campus, two kids who go to Plantation Middle. The grandfather is reading the wine list in Spanish on his phone because the bilingual menu in the host stand kiosk has not been updated since November. The host asks the mother, in English, if they want bread, and the mother answers, in Spanish, that the table needs a high chair. The mother and the host both run on three languages a night and neither of them counts that as a skill on their resume.
The mall is decorated. The tree in the central plaza is forty feet tall. Two of the storefront windows have animated reindeer in the glass. A movie theater on the west end is letting out a six o'clock show. A line is forming at the burger house two doors down. Three blocks east, on Sunrise Boulevard, the Maggiano's is also full. Three blocks west, on Broward Boulevard, the cafe at the Broward Health Medical Center is closed for the night but the on call cafeteria service is running. All of this is one Thursday, in one city, inside a six square mile envelope.
The Italian house will run two hundred and twenty covers by ten. It will pack twelve catering orders by noon tomorrow, mostly for Amex, Lenovo, the Broward Health campus, and a city of Plantation department holiday party. The owner pays, on the marketplace third of that volume, twenty five to thirty cents on every dollar. He has been here since 2014. He does not own the customer file. The corporate admin who called tonight, the grandfather reading the wine list in Spanish, and the burger house line forming next door are all on someone else's mailing list. The rest of this page is about why none of that has to be true.
