Write about: the orders.
Finally finished ordering our seeds today. Probably a good thing, considering we should be starting to get going in the greenhouse in a couple of weeks.
The silence in the room was unsettling, both for its intensity and its unusualness. It was much more common for its occupants to be shouting at each other in order to be heard over the general tumult, often multiple times to clear up confusion brought upon by misheard words.
But at that moment an especially unfortunate soul was heard passing wind. No heads turned in his direction then, but he knew immediately that he would not be hearing the end of it any time soon.
A few dry lips were licked, several awkward swallows were forced down. No words were spoken for what felt like hours.
In reality less than a minute passed before Pierre, the head chef with the monstrous temper, finally spoke.
"Table eight wants WHAT for dinner?"