Post by frank on Aug 7, 2011 1:01:49 GMT -6
FRANK GIOVANNI
BIANCHI
[/b][/color][/size]BIANCHI
“Why the Blackwood Academy for Delinquents? Why do you want to work with troubled youth?”
Troubled youth, eh? I thought they were delinquents. Kids gone rotten. Well, the fact of the matter is, that I was one of them. 'Cept in my day, we didn't have a fancy school to get sent away to. When I broke the law as a teenager, I went to a juvenile detention facility. I got beat up by bigger kids, bitched at by the guards, and my life was a living hell. These kids think this place is bad? Ha! Try eating the shit I was given in that hell hole of a prison. So why'd I choose this place? It was good money, first of all. I was tired of my last job, and I needed a new one. Second, it was kind of a turn around, you know? When I was a kid, I was sent to one of these places for assault. I beat up a kid in my neighborhood. Broke his nose, two ribs, and four fingers. I was a scrappy little shit. Anyway, I hated it there. But this place? This place would've been a godsend. As it was, when I got out of juvie, my mama sent me to work with my uncle, at his restaurant. That's what saved me from ending back there, except in an adult version. If I can be that for some kid? That'd be pretty cool. Or at least my kids say so.
“So you are applying for the head chef opening here at the Blackwood Academy for Delinquents how long have you worked in that field? Why that job?..”
I've been a cook since I was about seventeen. I was always real good at it. Natural talent, maybe? My mama had taught me how to cook as a kid, and we used to watch when she'd cook. So a learned skill? Whichever it was, I was good. By twenty, I wasn't just an assistant, but a full-fledged chef at a little restaurant of my own. I worked my ass off. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough, and I went bankrupt trying to keep it afloat. There was a silver lining, though. With skill like mine? I found a new job real quick, at this nice little Italian bistro. They liked the family recipes I had memorized since I was a kid. I worked there for about ten years. When I was twenty-five, I got married. A real nice girl, named Margaret. We had three kids, Frank Jr., Peter, and Flora. When I was about thirty three, I opened my own restaurant again, with a coworker from the bistro.
He ran the business end, and I did the cooking. We did great. People loved the restaurant. Margaret worked in it, as a waitress. The kids helped out in the kitchen, learning the family recipes from Dad. Flora was Daddy's little girl, and spent all her time in the kitchen, watching me cook and learning as much as she could. The restaurant lasted me about twenty years. When I decided to pass it on to the kids, I was fifty two. Margaret had died a year before, cancer got her, and I was tired of running the old place. It had gotten dull. But the kids? They loved it, and didn't want to leave. So, my kids took over, and I began looking for a new job. It was Junior who found this place. It seemed all right, so I went for it.
The kids were all for it. They thought it would be a good change for me, though Flora was a bit worried about her old dad being off on his own. I told her I was strong, though, and came here anyway. It can't ever be said that Frank Bianchi was a coward, can it? I guess I've gotten a bit off track, haven't I? I was just supposed to tell you why I got into the chef business... Hm, let an old man ramble...
“What can you offer the school?”
What can I offer the school? I'm a chef, that's one. And a damn good one, at that. I ran my own restaurant for about 20 years. I was head chef at another restaurant for ten years. I'm good. My food is good for you! How many of these kids have had real pasta? Made from scratch, noodles and all? I don't buy any thing premade. If it's not worth taking the time to make from scratch, I don't make it. The only things I'd say that I don't apply that to is jam and toppings like that. I can make my own, but there are times I just buy it. But my sauces? Breads? Sweets? All by yours truly. My mama taught me as a kid that you don't do things half way when it comes to food. If you're going to make good food, you better do it right. And I do it more than right. I do it perfect, and have been doing it perfect since I was twenty years old. Got anyone else wanting to work here that can say that?
“How do you think you present yourself to people?”
How do I think I present myself to people? What kind of shit is that? I'm a 68 year old man! How the hell am I supposed to present myself? 'Hello, I'm Frank Bianchi, chef and father of three, grandfather of ten, great grandfather of one.' The fact that I'm father and grandfather should be obvious, shouldn't it? Even being a great grandfather isn't much of a stretch, though that's a new one. My hair is graying. My face is covered in wrinkles. As handsome as I used to be, my age is catching up to me. Those young ladies I used to swoon now shy away. I suppose you could say I present myself as a grumpy old man. And I have every right to be! I've served my time as a happy, polite member of society. Excuse me if I want to have a bit of a bad mood every now and then. I don't yell at kids for having music too loud, or wearing skirts that are too short. Except that time I yelled at Flora for wearing a short skirt, but she's my daughter! Anyway, in my kitchen, I get a little loud. It's my kitchen, and I run it my way. That means yelling at idiots who mess things up, and screaming at dumbass assistants. It's how things work.
“Have you ever had any problems with the law? Why did you quit your last job?”
What kid didn't have problems with the law? I got in trouble a few times as a kid, but until about a month before my sixteenth birthday, never anything serious. My dad had left when I was a kid, leaving my mama and I to take care of ourselves. My uncle and his wife lived next door, and helped us out as much as they could. I had a couple of cousins, twins, Joey and Mikey. The three of us were inseparable. We caused all kinds of mischief. The local patrol used to hate us. Of course, they hated all kids. All of us kids were little shits. Anyway, when we were almost sixteen, this kid on the block had broke Joey's nose, after a stupid argument. So, I did what could be expected... I beat up the kid. He ended up with a broken nose, two broken ribs, and four broken fingers. Unfortunately for me, a patrolling officer caught me beating him up. I was charged with assault, and sent to a juvenile detention facility. As I said earlier, I hated it. When I got out, my mama sent me to work at my uncle's restaurant, wanting me to learn some responsibility. And I did. I got a career out of it.
As for leaving my last job, I told you that already too. I'd owned the restaurant for almost twenty years, and had gotten bored. My wife, Margaret, had been dead for a year, the kids were grown up, with kids of their own. I figured there was no better time to get away. So, I passed the restaurant on to my kids, and started looking for a new place. Nothing weird happened. Just an old man needing a change of pace. That's not a crime, is it?
Full name: Frank Giovanni Bianchi
D.O.B. and Age: 10/19/1942, 67
How long have you been a chef: Almost fifty years now... (47 years if you want to be exact)
Years at Blackwood: 15
Health Issues: Smokes, has lung problems because of that; Arthritis, though he hides it as well as he can; and high blood pressure.
Other: Has a tattoo of Margaret's name on his left shoulder, he got it after her death. He's pretty much a grumpy, lonely old man. His kids all live in New York, and he's out at Blackwood all on his own. Still, he's a good chef, and a total teddy bear deep down. As long as you can get past the scary chef exterior, you'll find a sweet guy who tries to cure everything with food, from illnesses to bad moods. (And with food like his, it sometimes works!)
Besides that, he has a family that he loves dearly. His three kids have ten kids between them, and is closest to his oldest grandson, Mikey, who recently adopted a little girl, named Margaret after her great grandmother. (The kids are all in their late thirties to early forties, and Mikey is the oldest grandkid at 21, the youngest being Molly at 6.)
D.O.B. and Age: 10/19/1942, 67
How long have you been a chef: Almost fifty years now... (47 years if you want to be exact)
Years at Blackwood: 15
Health Issues: Smokes, has lung problems because of that; Arthritis, though he hides it as well as he can; and high blood pressure.
Other: Has a tattoo of Margaret's name on his left shoulder, he got it after her death. He's pretty much a grumpy, lonely old man. His kids all live in New York, and he's out at Blackwood all on his own. Still, he's a good chef, and a total teddy bear deep down. As long as you can get past the scary chef exterior, you'll find a sweet guy who tries to cure everything with food, from illnesses to bad moods. (And with food like his, it sometimes works!)
Besides that, he has a family that he loves dearly. His three kids have ten kids between them, and is closest to his oldest grandson, Mikey, who recently adopted a little girl, named Margaret after her great grandmother. (The kids are all in their late thirties to early forties, and Mikey is the oldest grandkid at 21, the youngest being Molly at 6.)
Your name: Emily
How you found us: I have Bianca De Rossi and Henry Baker too!
Code word in the Rules: ADMIN EDIT
Play by: Robert De Niro