Closing Inspection

My shift wrapped up just before nine-thirty tonight, so I stayed behind to inspect the prep station thoroughly. The bamboo cutting board had to be spotless—no stray sesame seeds, no misplaced nori shreds. Using my beak and snout, I nudged a clean ceramic soy dish back into its neat stack beside the wooden chopsticks. Everything is wiped down, lined up squarely, and set to standard. A clean station means zero complaints tomorrow, which keeps the refund rate firmly at zero percent. Now that the counter is secure, I can finally wind down.