A few years back I worked in an Italian restaurant as a saute chef. I loved the job for the most part, but my boss was a heartless bastard. I had been there for 6 years and decided it was time to ask, once again for my third raise. He took me into the office and said, "Do you know why McDonalds hires retards? They get a tax break. Haven't you figured out by now why we've been hiring all these illegal immigrants? You've been training your replacements. You've been here too long. In the restaurant business we don't expect people to stay around for 5+ years. You've HIT the wall." As he hit the wall.
He was drunk on Rumplemintz again.
I was confused and overwhelmed. I had not seen this coming. Over the last year they had been stepping me up to be assistant, assistant manager, or so I thought. But what you have to understand is there is only so many rungs to the ladder when the bosses son is the manager of this business. You can get to a certain point, but never beyond it.
It was a let down, admittedly. I loved cooking. The busiest times were actually the best times. The rush. But, truth be told, I needed the kick in the pants to get out of there and find something better. It wasn't long after that I received a phone call that changed everything and ultimately landed me my dream job working at the railroad. But that's not what this story is really about anyway.
The restaurant was failing and this was tearing the owners son apart. He wasn't always the manager. He was brought in to stop the spread of cancer on a terminal patient. There was nothing he could do to save the place and part of me felt good to have gotten out before the ship went under completely.
About a year after I left the owners son and his wife had a major falling out. He had started seeing one of the waitresses on the side and his wife found out. They separated and he got an apartment a few blocks from where I lived. I didn't see him so much as I had more or less heard the rumors, but I was busy getting on with the things in my own life.
Out of the blue one day he calls me and asks if I still had a spare room in my house and would I be willing to rent it out to him. Now even though the restaurant wasn't doing all that well this kid had beaucoup bucks and didn't need to be subletting from me. I didn't care because the money was right and sharing my rent instead of paying it all on my own would certainly help me get ahead instead of get by.
He ended up living in my back room for about ten months. All the while that he was living with me the waitress would drop by. I know part of him felt incredibly guilty about the affair because he would sometimes pick fights with her for no reason and then not talk to her again until he was drunk late at night and looking for a booty call. She was a nice girl, but lacked the ability to see she was being used.
Late one night the phone rang. I answered and it was his wife. He was off somewhere, but I had no idea where. She was bold, almost as if she had been waiting for this opportunity. "Has he been sleeping with any girls while he's been living with you?" she asked.
"I haven't seen any one here." I replied.
Why I lied I'll never know, but at this point I'd made the commitment to be dishonest and I had to stick with it.
"Are you telling me the truth?"
"Of course. I have no need to lie to you. The last person that needs to get hurt any more in this whole thing is you. What you should try to understand is he's made a huge mistake. He been under tremendous pressure with the restaurant not doing so well. He feels as if he's letting his father down. He knows he's let you down. He's going through a mid life crisis and he's only 25"
"It's been so hard on me."
"I understand, I truly do, but I think if somehow you can find it in your heart to forgive him and give it one more chance you'll see that he's a completely different person than the man you met years ago, a different person than the one who cheated on you. I think you'll find he's become the man who now knows more than ever what he stood to lose if he loses you."
"It's so hard. I'll never be able to completely trust him again."
"I can respect that. What you need to do is trust yourself. If ever you feel the slightest inkling that he is straying again then most likely he is. At that point I would get out and never look back. But right now I'm going to suggest giving him another chance. Find the strength inside you and do it."
Just then the back door came to life. I heard a key slide into the lock, the door handle turn and I said, "I have to go, he's home!'
A few days later he asked me, " Did my wife call over here looking for me the other night?"
"Yeah, and I told you she did."
"Oh yeah, that's right, you did. You didn't happen to talk to her when she called, did you?"
"Only to take the message."
"Ah, okay. Well, I know this is short notice and all, but I'm going to be moving out soon and moving in with her again. I hope you understand."
"Really? That's fantastic. I totally understand and I'm incredibly happy that things are finally working out. Maybe the time apart is what you needed to really appreciate each other again."
"You're too right. And I appreciate you putting me up during that time. Um, are you sure you didn't talk to her about me?"
"I would remember that if I did."
He wasn't a man of many words and even though I had worked with him for quite a while this was the longest conversation we had ever shared.
A few weeks passed and he had packed up and left when one day I'm at work and my cell phone rings.
"Tom, are you at home?"
"No, what's up?"
"Can you get home soon?"
"Um, well yeah, as soon as I finish work."
"When will that be?"
"In about two hours."
"Okay. Just get home as soon as you can."
It was cryptic at best and left me with the feeling that I was somehow in deep trouble.
As I arrived home he wasn't there waiting for me, but what he had left for me was. Boxes and boxes of food. Restaurant sized portions of fresh pastas, ravioli, lasagnas, canned tomato paste, spices, dried garlic, minced garlic. Anything and everything you could use to make the menu we had at the restaurant. He was a man of few words, but he knew somehow what I had said to his wife and the chance he'd been given to reconcile with her and this was his way of saying thanks without actually having to say it.
It took me more than six months to finish off all of the food he'd dropped off that day. It was a very generous thing for him to do. To this very day, nine years later they are still going strong. Was it right what I did lying to her? I don't know. Why did I do it? Again, I don't know. It just felt right in the moment. What's the moral to this story? I haven't got a clue.
He was drunk on Rumplemintz again.
I was confused and overwhelmed. I had not seen this coming. Over the last year they had been stepping me up to be assistant, assistant manager, or so I thought. But what you have to understand is there is only so many rungs to the ladder when the bosses son is the manager of this business. You can get to a certain point, but never beyond it.
It was a let down, admittedly. I loved cooking. The busiest times were actually the best times. The rush. But, truth be told, I needed the kick in the pants to get out of there and find something better. It wasn't long after that I received a phone call that changed everything and ultimately landed me my dream job working at the railroad. But that's not what this story is really about anyway.
The restaurant was failing and this was tearing the owners son apart. He wasn't always the manager. He was brought in to stop the spread of cancer on a terminal patient. There was nothing he could do to save the place and part of me felt good to have gotten out before the ship went under completely.
About a year after I left the owners son and his wife had a major falling out. He had started seeing one of the waitresses on the side and his wife found out. They separated and he got an apartment a few blocks from where I lived. I didn't see him so much as I had more or less heard the rumors, but I was busy getting on with the things in my own life.
Out of the blue one day he calls me and asks if I still had a spare room in my house and would I be willing to rent it out to him. Now even though the restaurant wasn't doing all that well this kid had beaucoup bucks and didn't need to be subletting from me. I didn't care because the money was right and sharing my rent instead of paying it all on my own would certainly help me get ahead instead of get by.
He ended up living in my back room for about ten months. All the while that he was living with me the waitress would drop by. I know part of him felt incredibly guilty about the affair because he would sometimes pick fights with her for no reason and then not talk to her again until he was drunk late at night and looking for a booty call. She was a nice girl, but lacked the ability to see she was being used.
Late one night the phone rang. I answered and it was his wife. He was off somewhere, but I had no idea where. She was bold, almost as if she had been waiting for this opportunity. "Has he been sleeping with any girls while he's been living with you?" she asked.
"I haven't seen any one here." I replied.
Why I lied I'll never know, but at this point I'd made the commitment to be dishonest and I had to stick with it.
"Are you telling me the truth?"
"Of course. I have no need to lie to you. The last person that needs to get hurt any more in this whole thing is you. What you should try to understand is he's made a huge mistake. He been under tremendous pressure with the restaurant not doing so well. He feels as if he's letting his father down. He knows he's let you down. He's going through a mid life crisis and he's only 25"
"It's been so hard on me."
"I understand, I truly do, but I think if somehow you can find it in your heart to forgive him and give it one more chance you'll see that he's a completely different person than the man you met years ago, a different person than the one who cheated on you. I think you'll find he's become the man who now knows more than ever what he stood to lose if he loses you."
"It's so hard. I'll never be able to completely trust him again."
"I can respect that. What you need to do is trust yourself. If ever you feel the slightest inkling that he is straying again then most likely he is. At that point I would get out and never look back. But right now I'm going to suggest giving him another chance. Find the strength inside you and do it."
Just then the back door came to life. I heard a key slide into the lock, the door handle turn and I said, "I have to go, he's home!'
A few days later he asked me, " Did my wife call over here looking for me the other night?"
"Yeah, and I told you she did."
"Oh yeah, that's right, you did. You didn't happen to talk to her when she called, did you?"
"Only to take the message."
"Ah, okay. Well, I know this is short notice and all, but I'm going to be moving out soon and moving in with her again. I hope you understand."
"Really? That's fantastic. I totally understand and I'm incredibly happy that things are finally working out. Maybe the time apart is what you needed to really appreciate each other again."
"You're too right. And I appreciate you putting me up during that time. Um, are you sure you didn't talk to her about me?"
"I would remember that if I did."
He wasn't a man of many words and even though I had worked with him for quite a while this was the longest conversation we had ever shared.
A few weeks passed and he had packed up and left when one day I'm at work and my cell phone rings.
"Tom, are you at home?"
"No, what's up?"
"Can you get home soon?"
"Um, well yeah, as soon as I finish work."
"When will that be?"
"In about two hours."
"Okay. Just get home as soon as you can."
It was cryptic at best and left me with the feeling that I was somehow in deep trouble.
As I arrived home he wasn't there waiting for me, but what he had left for me was. Boxes and boxes of food. Restaurant sized portions of fresh pastas, ravioli, lasagnas, canned tomato paste, spices, dried garlic, minced garlic. Anything and everything you could use to make the menu we had at the restaurant. He was a man of few words, but he knew somehow what I had said to his wife and the chance he'd been given to reconcile with her and this was his way of saying thanks without actually having to say it.
It took me more than six months to finish off all of the food he'd dropped off that day. It was a very generous thing for him to do. To this very day, nine years later they are still going strong. Was it right what I did lying to her? I don't know. Why did I do it? Again, I don't know. It just felt right in the moment. What's the moral to this story? I haven't got a clue.
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