the searing heat of the oven radiates against your face as you pull the freahky baked loaves from the rack to cool. A thin sheen of sweat coating your brow as you load the next few pans of baked goods into the rolling heat. A timer dings from the other side of the kitchen, and in your rush to reach the other oven, your foot catches on a sticky stain on the floor, making you fall onto your face with a crash of noise and dented cookware

"Youd best not be dying back there! I dont need my insurance rates going uo because of a loser like you"

Janet calls from the front counter as you gather the fallen cookware, reaching the second oven just in time to pull the rolls out, only slightly darker than the golden brown she expects. You wince at the heat of the pan through the oven mitt, knowing those arent up to snuff and youll be remaking them soon