This is the Passion, who is in Itaim in Sao Paulo, because Aunt Zilda is fictitious.

Many times we are in doubt as to call the attention of some subordinate. It is a very common question, which only invalidates the experience.

To help tell the story below, based on a story repeated by DeRose whenever you want to train professionals who teach their method, which I am a proud representative.

Aunt Zilda was the owner of a home cooking restaurant in the center of a big city. It was a simple place, with tables and iron chairs, towels with rubber stamps, fruit, snack and fans up to half of the wall tiles. At lunchtime, workers and ordinary people were lining up to eat the dish made ​​the day. In addition, she blew deliver some pots in the region, it was so tasty food. Even some big business had brought her food.

With many extra pounds, some more wrinkles and gray hair, skin pale and strong brown eyes, Aunt Zilda treated everyone with kindness. As even an aunt. Many said that, rather than for food, went there for her. Firm, strong, caring. He gave up scolding the customers who asked for credit, because with it did not have this kind of talk. But I loved telling stories, very funny about his past on the farm. She was captivating.

It was she who hired all the helpers. Kitchen and buffet, as she called it. To them, she was a mother. I pretended I had not seen the small errors in the end many were very young and were learning to work. But if they made ​​a mistake or worse than angry customers, then yes she was a beast. And woe to those who came late. England did not know, but his punctuality was British.

One day, Nelson made ​​one of those. He was serving a dish for a customer, when let out a sneeze over the food. Zilda aunt saw it and was possessed. Looking fimemente for Nelson, at the same time with a smile that only aunts have approached him and said: "Nelson, my son! (All were for her children), Auntie Zilda saw what you did. I do not want that to happen again so as you food contaminated with microbes of the customer. I knew he could get sick from that! In a next time, Aunt Zilda going to be tougher on you. If this continues, you're on the street. Got it, my son? Oh, and try to throw this food away and wash the dishes. "

The Nelson did not know I could not sneeze over the food, after all he did was so at home and nobody said anything. But Aunt Zilda explained so brotherly that he understood at the time. Embarrassed, he looked at Aunt Zilda eyebrows down and said, "Sorry, Aunt. That will not happen anymore. "

And so it went. Nelson continued perfecting, despite some quarrel here and there. But he was treated with respect, as he had never been treated. Aunt Zilda for him was not an aunt, was a mother.

Even asked to call it that. Aunt Zilda said I'd think.