A Chain. All I could do was stare dumbly at a wall. A chain didn’t just mean more than one store- it meant a whole different type of impersonalized fast food joint. How could my best friend Caesar- the man I went to culinary school with and who I thought had the same love of pizza that I did want to be such a sellout? When had he gotten so ambitious that he was ready to sacrifice good quality pizza for success?
Maybe it was because I was in such a dark mood that I let Cassius persuade me.
“A chain huh?” I just nodded numbly. He went on, “wouldn’t that betray the idea of quality and personalized pizza?” When I showed no sign of objection he continued, “Now I know Caesar is your best friend but- how has he gotten so powerful? He shouldn’t be able to make decisions for Pizza B.C; especially ones that harm the quality of the pizza.”
He had a point there, but I still wasn’t ready to give up my negative attitude. “There’s nothing we can do, O.K.”
“I was thinking.” Cassius had the look in eyes that he got only by his most far-fetched ideas. “Why should you let him have the power? You’re the better leader- you do what’s best for the pizza, not the money. Now I happen to know for a fact that our customers prefer you, Marcus, they want YOU to be the owner of Pizza B.C- I mean the only owner.”
My face showed my astonishment, “Kick Caesar out?”
“Not just Caesar. We’ll have to get rid of Mark Antony too…”
It was later that night as I was checking my email that I received an anonymous letter:
Brutus-
Don’t let Caesar take control of your business! You are the rightful owner, only YOU know what’s best for Pizza B.C. I’m begging you; don’t let it become a chain. I’m not the only who will have to find a new pizzeria if this one becomes a chain (and we all know yours is the best)…
I called up Cassius. “Alright I’m in.” I could hear him smiling. “But only for the good of the pizza”
“For the good of the pizza” he seconded. “We’ll take down Caesar and his little servant…”
“No. Mark Antony stays.”
“But Brutus-
“He stays. He’s a good chief and I only want to get Caesar out- he’s the problem”
“Alright then, we’ll take down Caesar”
“For the good of the pizza, Cassius, for the good of the pizza,” I had to remind him.
A week later, after plans had been made and details arranged, it was the day of truth. “He’s bad for the pizza. It’s the most important thing, that’s why we’re doing this. Pizza is what I love most, more important than any friendship,” I repeated more for my own sake than for Cassius’.
We stepped under the awning that Caesar and I had so proudly picked out, walked past the brick oven where I had spent many nights, mixing and throwing and baking pizza after pizza. I knew I was doing the right thing after that. There’s no way I could let my dream-my pizzeria become something as despicable as a chain. It just couldn’t happen. We walked over to Caesar, but now I was completely sure of myself and confident of my choice. “Look Brutus- I found a great place for our second pizzeria. I was thinking we could open another one up after that in Italy too- you know; an international sensation.” Yes, I was sure I had made the right decision.
The plan was that Cassius would say it, I would just tell him why. “Caesar, you’re bad for this business. I’m afraid I’m going to have to fire you. You no longer own Pizza B.C” Cassius smiled, satisfied with himself. Caesar however, just laughed.
“You’re not in charge old man! It’s me and Brutus, well really mainly me, and you can’t fire me from my own store!” That wiped the smile off Cassius’ face.
“Brutus agreed, and since the property is in his name,” Cassius spat. Now Caesar’s smile was gone too.
“Brutus?” I’d never seen him so unconfident. I could only muster a nod and mutter “For the good of the pizza.”
“Then I’ll go!” He yelled; his sureness of himself back. He slammed the door, and that was the last I ever saw of Julius Caesar, my best friend.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Pizza King
Pizza B.C was no longer Julius and mine, just the team from culinary school that had started a business based on a love for pizza. Now we had two major additions, and there was plenty of head butting.
It started as soon as Julius got back from Italy. Maybe it was the fact that he had a little assistant ready to do anything he asked, always complimenting and praising him, or maybe it was the newfound competition with Cassius to be the head of the business, but Caesar was suddenly acting as though he were king- and I, along with the rest of the Pizza B.C staff were his lowly servants.
“No you’re doing it all wrong” he would tell me about the way I threw my pizza. Or “You know you ruin the pizza with that much cheese, everyone hates it that way.” Every time he walked by with his “suggestions” Mark would be close behind, nodding and repeating everything he said.
Naturally, Cassius hated both of them; everyone who knew him knew that he was in charge, and his authority could not, and would not be under minded. Caesar and his backhanded suggestions managed to do just that, so of course they fought. It was Antony however that really got Cassius’ blood boiling. The fact that anyone would follow someone besides himself made Cassius spitting mad, and on a number of occasions he tried to fire Mark, with Caesar always coming to his loyal assistant’s defense.
Needless to say, our pizzeria had lost its loving environment and was now pretty miserable to be in. Although I seemed unaffected, I too was getting aggravated. I felt that people were forgetting the most important thing, the pizza. Money was gaining importance in its place, and that worried me. Even so, I made sure I never took sides, always trying to defend Caesar while forcing myself to believe that he hadn’t changed from the best friend and pizza partner I had once known.
It happened suddenly on what had seemed like an ordinary day. One simple sentence was all it took for the realization to come crashing down on me that I could pretend no longer.
“Brutus” I looked up at Caesar, ready for an insult, or a suggestion, maybe for him to brag, anything but this.
“I think we should open up a chain...”
It started as soon as Julius got back from Italy. Maybe it was the fact that he had a little assistant ready to do anything he asked, always complimenting and praising him, or maybe it was the newfound competition with Cassius to be the head of the business, but Caesar was suddenly acting as though he were king- and I, along with the rest of the Pizza B.C staff were his lowly servants.
“No you’re doing it all wrong” he would tell me about the way I threw my pizza. Or “You know you ruin the pizza with that much cheese, everyone hates it that way.” Every time he walked by with his “suggestions” Mark would be close behind, nodding and repeating everything he said.
Naturally, Cassius hated both of them; everyone who knew him knew that he was in charge, and his authority could not, and would not be under minded. Caesar and his backhanded suggestions managed to do just that, so of course they fought. It was Antony however that really got Cassius’ blood boiling. The fact that anyone would follow someone besides himself made Cassius spitting mad, and on a number of occasions he tried to fire Mark, with Caesar always coming to his loyal assistant’s defense.
Needless to say, our pizzeria had lost its loving environment and was now pretty miserable to be in. Although I seemed unaffected, I too was getting aggravated. I felt that people were forgetting the most important thing, the pizza. Money was gaining importance in its place, and that worried me. Even so, I made sure I never took sides, always trying to defend Caesar while forcing myself to believe that he hadn’t changed from the best friend and pizza partner I had once known.
It happened suddenly on what had seemed like an ordinary day. One simple sentence was all it took for the realization to come crashing down on me that I could pretend no longer.
“Brutus” I looked up at Caesar, ready for an insult, or a suggestion, maybe for him to brag, anything but this.
“I think we should open up a chain...”
Sunday, January 27, 2008
And then there were 4...
At first, everything seemed to be going well- great actually. Our shop was finally open and it was all I had hoped for and more. We had an awning and a brick oven, tables and booths and best of all, we had happy customers. Caesar and I were able to keep our promise of delicious pizza, and so people kept coming back. I figured my dream had come true, and it felt great. I was doing what I loved most; making pizza.
It seemed as though nothing could go wrong.
And just when everything seemed perfect, trouble appeared. Caesar felt that, since we were doing so well, it was time for a vacation- to Italy.
“C’mon Marcus” he would plead. “Italy is like the birthplace of pizza, we could learn so much!” I would shake my head and voice my concerns for our pizzeria.
“You know Julius, we do own a business. We can’t just get up and leave it. It’s too important.” Whenever I said this he would laugh and put on his slightly arrogant “who cares?” face. Well I did care. I wasn’t about to sacrifice pizza for a vacation. One day, I just couldn’t handle his pleads and laughs anymore. “You go” I said. And of course he did.
The next couple of Caesar-less weeks were completely overwhelming. I found I couldn’t handle all the business transactions, my interests lay only in being the chef. Consequently, I decided to hire a business manager. Caius Cassius was everything I was looking for. He was smart and knew exactly how to run Pizza B.C. He left only the pizza part to me, and all was seemingly well.
The Caesar came back, and he wasn’t alone. There, following a very tan Caesar was a boy who looked slightly younger than both of us, and was looking up at Julius adoringly. He introduced himself as Mark Antony, yet all the while he was talking to me about how he and Caesar had met in Italy, he never took his eyes of his new found idol.
“He’s going to work here! Isn’t that great?” Caesar asked me. I smiled and gave Antony a uniform. What else could I say? This boy was obviously ecstatic at the prospect of working at our pizzeria. However, I couldn’t quite shake my feeling of uneasiness as I watched Caesar basking in Mark Antony’s attention.
It seemed as though nothing could go wrong.
And just when everything seemed perfect, trouble appeared. Caesar felt that, since we were doing so well, it was time for a vacation- to Italy.
“C’mon Marcus” he would plead. “Italy is like the birthplace of pizza, we could learn so much!” I would shake my head and voice my concerns for our pizzeria.
“You know Julius, we do own a business. We can’t just get up and leave it. It’s too important.” Whenever I said this he would laugh and put on his slightly arrogant “who cares?” face. Well I did care. I wasn’t about to sacrifice pizza for a vacation. One day, I just couldn’t handle his pleads and laughs anymore. “You go” I said. And of course he did.
The next couple of Caesar-less weeks were completely overwhelming. I found I couldn’t handle all the business transactions, my interests lay only in being the chef. Consequently, I decided to hire a business manager. Caius Cassius was everything I was looking for. He was smart and knew exactly how to run Pizza B.C. He left only the pizza part to me, and all was seemingly well.
The Caesar came back, and he wasn’t alone. There, following a very tan Caesar was a boy who looked slightly younger than both of us, and was looking up at Julius adoringly. He introduced himself as Mark Antony, yet all the while he was talking to me about how he and Caesar had met in Italy, he never took his eyes of his new found idol.
“He’s going to work here! Isn’t that great?” Caesar asked me. I smiled and gave Antony a uniform. What else could I say? This boy was obviously ecstatic at the prospect of working at our pizzeria. However, I couldn’t quite shake my feeling of uneasiness as I watched Caesar basking in Mark Antony’s attention.
Monday, January 21, 2008
My Passion for Pizza
Well, it’s over. Pizza B. C. has closed its doors forever, and shut my dream down with it. But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to backtrack a couple years and blog from the beginning …
My story really started off with a slice of pizza.
Pre College, I had never really had any interests or talents, and when I got to college, I had no idea what I was doing there. I took to wondering aimlessly around the town, when one day I walked past a pizzeria. Maybe it was fate that I hadn’t eaten that day and that the smell of pizza was coming through the chimney, or maybe I was just hungry, but I went in and bought a slice. I knew right then that I had found my passion; pizza.
Now that I had discovered what I wanted to do with my life, I felt unstoppable. Who cares that I had never cooked anything in my life? I was going to be a pizza chef; I just knew it would happen.
I bought cookbook after cookbook and trained myself. I improvised and invented, never getting sick of the taste of hot pizza, and was always armed with a pie fresh out of the oven. The more I worked, the more I wanted to learn about the art of pizza, so I applied to culinary school.
When the acceptance letter came from a cooking school in Rome, New York, I was ecstatic and immediately packed my bags. I signed up for every pizza class available, and anything that was remotely related to pizza. Classes were hard, but I was diligent and my love of Pizza stayed with me.
Before we were assigned a group cooking project, I had never really associated with my classmates. I realized I was in trouble then; while everyone in the class was partnering up, I was standing by myself, accompanied only by my pizza.
But thankfully, I wasn’t the only one. There, also standing alone, but looking much more comfortable with it, was another chief. I walked over and introduced myself, and he proposed we work together. And thus Marcus Brutus and Julius Caesar met.
It turned out we made a great team. My devoutness and love for pizza was paired with his confidence in everything he did. After the project was over, we worked on another group project together, and then another, and by the time we graduated, people didn’t call us “Marcus” or “Julius” anymore, but “Marcus and Julius” or sometimes even “B. C.” (for our last names).
Once out of culinary school, we decided it was only fitting to continue our team work and open up a Pizzeria. We decided to call it “Pizza B. C.”
My story really started off with a slice of pizza.
Pre College, I had never really had any interests or talents, and when I got to college, I had no idea what I was doing there. I took to wondering aimlessly around the town, when one day I walked past a pizzeria. Maybe it was fate that I hadn’t eaten that day and that the smell of pizza was coming through the chimney, or maybe I was just hungry, but I went in and bought a slice. I knew right then that I had found my passion; pizza.
Now that I had discovered what I wanted to do with my life, I felt unstoppable. Who cares that I had never cooked anything in my life? I was going to be a pizza chef; I just knew it would happen.
I bought cookbook after cookbook and trained myself. I improvised and invented, never getting sick of the taste of hot pizza, and was always armed with a pie fresh out of the oven. The more I worked, the more I wanted to learn about the art of pizza, so I applied to culinary school.
When the acceptance letter came from a cooking school in Rome, New York, I was ecstatic and immediately packed my bags. I signed up for every pizza class available, and anything that was remotely related to pizza. Classes were hard, but I was diligent and my love of Pizza stayed with me.
Before we were assigned a group cooking project, I had never really associated with my classmates. I realized I was in trouble then; while everyone in the class was partnering up, I was standing by myself, accompanied only by my pizza.
But thankfully, I wasn’t the only one. There, also standing alone, but looking much more comfortable with it, was another chief. I walked over and introduced myself, and he proposed we work together. And thus Marcus Brutus and Julius Caesar met.
It turned out we made a great team. My devoutness and love for pizza was paired with his confidence in everything he did. After the project was over, we worked on another group project together, and then another, and by the time we graduated, people didn’t call us “Marcus” or “Julius” anymore, but “Marcus and Julius” or sometimes even “B. C.” (for our last names).
Once out of culinary school, we decided it was only fitting to continue our team work and open up a Pizzeria. We decided to call it “Pizza B. C.”
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