Little Michael was very skilled. It was obvious he had been doing this for a long time.
Many people thought making pizza was very simple.
First you did this, then that, added a few things, and finally shoved it all into the oven.
Take a drag, take it out, cut it a few times, and it could be served or sent out. None of that was difficult.
But only those who had actually done it knew that even the first few steps were difficult to do well without sufficient practice.
The dough would either be too thick, tear easily, or have edges that were not soft enough.
It was a job that required long-term practice to master. Michael had similar experience, and he could tell that Little Michael had been doing it for at least several months.
"We..."
Little Michael shot him a sidelong glance. "We'll talk after work. If you stand here, the boss will dock my pay."
Michael froze for a moment, scratched his head, and compromised awkwardly. "I'll wait for you... out back."
In truth, it was still a long way from "closing time," but Michael was willing to wait.
At eight o'clock, the "Open" sign hanging outside the shop was flipped over, and all the lights in the dining area were turned off.
Little Michael carried a pizza into the back alley.
Michael leaned against the wall and smoked.
There were already many cigarette butts on the ground, as if he had just as many questions.
"Eat something first. It's free."
Michael had just been about to say something when he was cut off. Father and son stood together, quickly devouring a pizza.
"I thought... you'd have a respectable job. I heard you went to college." Michael hesitated before voicing his confusion.
He knew Little Michael