If she was Italian, Cinder wanted to believe she was Sicilian. She certainly felt that she had the temper for one from that region sometimes, if the stereotypes were true. But she couldn't tell for sure. Fall was hardly an Italian last name, after all.
But she was from New York. As in New York, New York. That had to count for something at least. With a bit of luck, she had a decent chance of being maybe third or fourth generation Italian. If she had to take an educated guess, though, she might have been Asian. But black hair wasn't unique to just Asia and that was all she had to go off of. So maybe, in true American fashion, she was the all-around mutt of sorts.
(She was lucky enough to skip out on picking up the dreaded New Yorker accent, though, and she figured that was good enough for now.)
But Italian temper and New Yorker blood still couldn't save her from the end-of-month finances and bookkeeping of her restaurant.
She wasn't the original owner. Not by a long shot, no. But somewhere down the line, in a long road trip of self-discovery that nearly took her to the other side of the country, with a bit of inspiration and some desperation, she bought the darn place. The previous owners decided that they were tired of running the restaurant and wanted to sell the establishment, and she just a happened to have a degree in business. It just seemed like a golden opportunity, even if it put her into debt.
But the name of the place had to change. "Mad Joe's Pizza" wasn't the worst name and it was certainly memorable, but it left much to be desired. It had to be short and easy to remember, but names were hard as per usual. Golden Crust was too cheesy and kinda safe. The Italian Stop didn't really capture the homey feeling of the place. In the end, she lost track of how many she tried to come up with. But what mattered was that she found one that stayed.
Cinderella's Kitchen
(Or more lovingly known as CinderHut, by both employee and patron.)
It played off of the old fairy tale - everyone knew the image of a woman working around the house. They closed iconically at the stroke of midnight, and she even had a grandfather clock installed that would only go off at that time. Of course, the restaurant was mostly empty by then, but it was still a charming touch to have in the place. Most importantly, though, it was easy to remember and build an image around. And with that, there was money to be made.
Of course, with that money came taxes and budgeting. It was nearing two in the morning, and Cinder was glad that tomorrow was a Sunday, the only day in the week where they were regularly closed. Her desk light bounced even more harshly off the edges of her laptop than usual, a testament to the long day she was having so far. But she knew that there was a can of beer in her fridge just waiting to be cracked open as a small reward for finishing it all.
With a heavy breath and blink of her eyes, she leaned back from the screen as she double checked her work. First were the overhead costs – rent, utilities, ingredient purchases, payrolls (including her own, which she was aggressively applying as much as she could to her business loan since it was almost taken care of), property taxes, things that were associated with the cost of running the restaurant. Afterward came tax deductions in the form of 'business losses'. It was a loose term, but that was the cost of ingredients that had to be tossed, mistakes in orders, things that had to be repaired or replaced, or would have otherwise been an unexpected cost against the restaurant.
Then there was the fun part – calculating the gross income. She could see just what was the most popular good they sold, which was their two slice lunch deal. It was far from the most profitable of their offerings, but the sheer volume of orders for it was certainly a pillar that helped keep the business afloat. But then gross income impacted other tax categories, so that meant more number crunching.
At least she didn't have to worry about tips. She didn't even want to look at how much was left on the table, from deliveries, or other possible services. Tips were an absolute bitch to factor into taxes with.
And while a good amount of money came in through that format, she also knew what she was paying everyone else. Cinder wanted to believe that she was offering competitive wages for restaurant positions, but she knew that thirteen to fifteen and change per hour was tough to live on in this area at times.
But the numbers looked satisfactory in the end. All of the receipts matched up with the software that was tracking their purchases, and all that was left was to look at-
"... What the hell?"
The month of May was often more productive than others. With thirty one days in the month and a holiday at the end of it, there were more opportunities to receive orders, and thus a higher profit margin was expected. Cinder was sure that they had earned more money to attribute to the restaurant's overall value, but a number smaller than she had expected was glaring back at her.
Turning to the previous month, she began to compare numbers. April might not have brought in as much income, but what was much lower were the overall costs. They didn't have to replace one of the refrigerators, and there was an extra Monday to the current month, which meant that there was an additional cost when it came to purchasing raw ingredients. On top of that, while more orders were placed, they had a few extra days of wages to count against the restaurant. She'd have to look the payrolls to see if any hours seemed higher than usual to meet customer demand and if any adjustments needed to be done or new hires made.
Frankly, it wasn't the worst that could have happened. The restaurant had seen a few red months here and there, and at the end of the day they were profitable. But it was still something that bothered her when she thought about it all. This just meant that June would be an important month to make sure that they had a higher profit margin. It should be doable - she highly doubted that she would have to replace another refrigerator, after all.
What's done was done though. Bookkeeping and finances all handled, it was time to kick back and enjoy what was left of her Sunday. Time for a cold one.
… But maybe check on the flour stocks first. There was an order of fifteen pizzas for a house party coming up, and that was one thing she did not want to be short-handed on when Monday rolled along.