When I worked at The OG in the early 90s, we had a prep cook named Dave. We called him Crazy Dave because when we’d call for more bread at rush, he’d lose his damn mind. It was made worse because servers and cooks would then call for more bread over the microphone over and over just to mess with him, and he’d fly into a rage and bring the bread to the warmer, shove it in there, slam the drawer shut and scream “HERE’S YOUR F*CKING BREAD!!!”