I shut off my music and savor the cooler’s low hum while zipping up my backpack. Vinegar from the last batch of pasta salad lands bitter in each breath. I wipe the prep counter down one last time, so Les will smell the cleaner when he comes in. It’s time for one last look and a mental audit of my task list. Three batches of pasta salad, made. Swiss, provolone, mild cheddar, and jarlsberg, sliced. Black forest ham, honey smoked turkey, buffalo chicken, prepped. Slicers, cleaned. Just in time for Les to come in and make a mess before the early morning rush. I set the timer on the bagel…