Big Roof Shashato. This was the shop where I worked. It was grander than any noble’s mansion.
Over four hundred employees worked here now. In the beginning, there were only about ten of us, but the numbers swelled until there were two hundred. That was the first group. I joined later, as part of the second group. Both the first and second groups consisted almost entirely of children who had been living on the streets, but that didn't mean everyone got along. We used to bicker and fight over sleeping spots or who was better at what.
I was thrilled when I heard I could work at Big Roof Shashato, but the presence of the first group made me nervous. After all, they were all children who had been under Goldie-san's direct care. Those of us in the second group came from various caretakers who had simply answered Goldie-san’s call. We belonged to different factions. On top of that, the first group had over two months of experience on us. I was certain they would mock me for being useless.
But that never happened.
The first group was surprisingly kind. Sure, they’d get angry if I messed up or did something stupid, but they never made fun of me. As I worked, I eventually understood why: they didn't want to cause trouble over petty things.
While they probably didn't want to lose their jobs, their primary motivation was a desire to avoid causing trouble for the Shop Manager who had hired them, or for Acting Shop Manager Marcos-sama and Paula-sama. Their sense of gratitude was so deep that they prioritized training the newcomers to be useful over mocking them. It made sense, really. This place provided us with a decent life—no, a supreme one.
Our sleeping quarters were houses built specifically for the staff, called dormitories. Anyone employed at Big Roof Shashato could live in one of the three buildings: the Men’s Dormitory, the Women’s Dormitory, or the Children’s Dormitory. The names were self-explanatory, though the Children’s Dormitory was primarily for those who couldn't quite manage on their own yet. Often, older siblings would stay there to look after them.
In every dorm, there were four people to a room. Apparently, it used to be more crowded, but they added more buildings to reach the current arrangement. In those rooms, we slept every night in beds with clean sheets. At first, I was so afraid of dirtying them that I slept on the floor—a fond memory now.
The dorms also had baths. Large, wonderful baths where warm water was always available. Usage was scheduled by squad, so we had to be punctual. Taking a bath every day was a strict rule; no one was allowed to skip unless they were sick.
We were also fed three meals a day. Before coming here, a single piece of bread was a luxury for an entire day, so the change was shocking. And this was real food. For breakfast, the bread wasn't some stale, rock-hard loaf of unknown age; it was baked fresh that very morning. The soup wasn't boiled weeds, but a hearty broth filled with proper vegetables. We even had a rotating side dish, like boiled eggs or grilled fish. Best of all, we could have as many helpings of soup as we wanted. I remember eating until I nearly burst during my first breakfast. Now, I’ve learned the modesty of stopping after one refill out of consideration for others.
Lunch and dinner were even more extravagant. Occasionally, we’d get strange dishes resulting from culinary research, but even those were delicious. At the very least, no employee ever complained.
Upon being hired, we were also issued clothing: three sets for work, two for our time off, and two for sleeping. Plus underwear. To be honest, receiving so many clothes at once was overwhelming. I felt a surge of excitement just putting them away in the furniture provided in my room.
We were even taught how to do laundry. The rule was that everyone had to wash their own clothes. You weren't allowed to let anyone else do it for you. At first, I thought it was to prevent theft, but it was actually a voluntary rule established by the employees themselves. It was considered cheating to have someone else do your laundry just so you could spend that extra time working. Everyone here genuinely wanted to work hard.
They even provided shoes. We only got one pair, but if they wore out or we outgrew them, we could apply for a new pair. Working barefoot was forbidden, so we took great care of them.
Now, for the most important part: the work. Since we were given such an amazing life, we had to earn it.
Employees were divided into those with specialized jobs and everyone else. Specialized jobs were roles that required specific talent, like cooking or painting signboards. Originally, taking orders at the counter was on a rotation, but that had recently become a specialized job too. Those with specialized roles were highly respected. I’d love to say I was one of them, but unfortunately, I didn't have a specialty yet. Maybe someday.
While the specialists focused on their crafts, the rest of us worked in squads. We helped with cooking, managed the customer lines, cleaned tables, or handed out water. We also helped out in the play area with bowling, the ring toss, and the shooting gallery, or assisted with the stage performances. All the jobs were popular, but today, I was assigned to bowling.
The work was simple but physically demanding. We worked in teams of three or four per lane. First, we’d all clean the lane together. Then, we’d line up and greet the arriving customers with a smile.
After the greeting, one person stayed at the front while the rest moved to the back of the lane, behind the pins. The person at the front polished the balls and managed the throwing rhythm. Since every customer had a different pace, they also gave advice to make sure no one threw the balls too violently.
Those of us at the back collected the pins knocked down by the balls and reset them. We had to be organized to avoid delays. One rule was never to touch a ball until it hit the backstop. We also couldn't touch the pins while they were still moving, as a wobbling pin might still knock another one over. Finally, we’d return the ball via the side rail and ring a bell to announce the score. If there was a performance on the stage, we used flags instead of the bell so we wouldn't interfere with the sound. Some customers preferred flags anyway, so we always checked their preference. However, even if a customer wanted to keep going, we had to strictly enforce the rotation if others were waiting.
Sometimes, we’d receive tips from the customers. Generous ones might even give us a large copper coin. The rule was that tips belonged to the person who received them. Apparently, there had been an argument about this early on; the employees insisted they should give their tips to the shop. Usually, it’s the other way around—I've heard of shops stealing tips from their workers—but our staff actually tried to give them away.
Acting Shop Manager Marcos-sama and Paula-sama refused, telling us to save the money in case something ever happened to the shop. So, the tips stayed with us. While that’s technically standard, I made sure to save mine diligently. Actually, all the employees were currently planning a surprise gift for Marcos-sama and Paula-sama soon.
As I worked hard, I found myself looking up to three people as rivals or goals.
The first was Potte from the first group. She was the star of the counter-service team. She wore a specialized waitress uniform that I was incredibly jealous of. I only had the standard employee apron.
The second was Razek, the signboard painter. He used to be famous for doing nothing but drawing on the ground. Back then, I thought it was a waste of time that wouldn't earn a copper, but now he was a key figure here. Apparently, the Shop Manager had appointed him personally. I was so envious. He had a team of assistants, all of whom were talented artists. As for my own art... I once drew Goldie-san’s guard dog, but no one could tell what it was. One person even guessed it was a desk. Seriously? A desk?
The third was Sha-san. She started as a customer who was obsessively passionate about food, but she ended up working here before I knew it. Now, she was always by Marcos-sama’s side, helping with the cooking. Her only flaw was that she’d get overexcited and start lecturing after eating something good, but she also taught us how to read, write, and do sums. She was a very kind and clear teacher. My only gripe was that she treated me like a child. I mean, I suppose I was one, but I wanted to master my letters and numbers quickly so I could finally be seen as an adult. Math, however, was proving difficult.
Anyway, the point of all this was to tell the newcomers to follow the example of those three, not me.
I finished my explanation, standing before the two hundred children who made up the third group. I couldn't help but wonder why I was the one tasked with giving the orientation.
Big Roof Shashato. The staff was growing steadily.