David Alan Dedin
Closing Time
Thirty-Seven
Closing Time
1992
Later in the evening, after the Trio was fired and the restaurant was closed, Sharon Donovan sat in the Manager’s Office relaxing with her heels up. She was smoking a cigarette and drinking a celebratory glass of scotch while the cooks finished cleaning the kitchen. They were running a little late tonight, but considering the events of the day, Sharon didn’t care – it had been a good day.
Knock, knock, knock!
Sharon looked up to see a familiar face in the threshold – “Mr. Arini! What are you doing here?” She looked at her watch. “And this late?” She sat up in her chair like a perky teenage girl - “What can I do you for, boss?”
Coming into the office, Stan Arini hesitated at the door’s broken window. He was wearing a long wool coat, and carried a rolling suitcase; he looked like he had just come straight from the airport. Careful not to cut himself on the plywood, he pulled the door closed; he looked at his store’s General Manager – “Sharon, we need to talk.”
“That’s great, because I’ve got good news for you. Who first – you or me?”
Arini sighed. “You can go first, Sharon.”
She grinned ear to ear. “Well, it looks like you were right, Mr. Arini. My servers were stealing from me!”
“Is that so?”
“Yes! And you were also right in that there was more than one person behind the plan. There were three of them, Mr. Arini. Three servers stealing from me!”
“I’m assuming they’re no longer employed?” Arini asked dryly.
“Fired all three and arrested one today,” she said triumphantly. “And they must have been stealing from us for months, Mr. Arini…months.”
“Judging from the food cost numbers Sharon, I’d say they were stealing for at least a year, possibly a year and a half.” His tone was not a pleasant one. “Tell me, Sharon…when exactly did you first suspect that your servers were stealing?”
“Easy,” Sharon said. “I first suspected theft when we found that case of bacon in the dumpster. That must have been nine months ago.”
“Actually, that’s not quite correct,” Arini reminded her. “That’s when you first suspected that your cooks were stealing. I’m talking servers, not cooks. When did you first suspect that your servers were stealing from you?”
“Well, that’s hard to say…”
“No, it’s not because I noted the day I told you. It was Halloween night, Sharon. I first warned that your servers were stealing on October 31st, 1991. Do you remember that conversation?”
“Err…well yes, I do…”
“And what did you say to me that night?” Arini asked.
Sharon stammered. “I suppose I told you a lot of things…”
“You swore up and down that your cooks were dishonest, and that you’d frozen any and all raises because of that. How many innocent people did that affect, Sharon?”
Leaning on the desk, Arini produced a notebook from his jacket pocket. It was full of Checker’s figures, and some earlier calculations that he’d done on the plane. He opened it to the page, marked “Peoria Checkers – 1991-1992.” He held the book up so Sharon could read it. The notes on the page said:
3 servers, 5 nights a week = 15 shifts
Patrick stole $2000 in 3 days, so let’s say (conservatively) $3,000/week
$3,000 x 3 servers’ shifts = $9,000/week
$9000 x 52 weeks in the year = $468,000/year
“Sharon, do you realize that because of your poor management, this restaurant potentially lost almost four hundred and seventy thousand dollars due to servers’ theft?”
“Well,” Sharon scoffed. “I take offense with your saying poor management. And I also question the numbers you’ve come up with. 468 seems awfully high. And Patrick was a better server than Alan and Guinevere, so he probably made more money than them. Personally, I’d say that number is a lot closer to three hundred thousand.” She settled back so Arini could do mental math in his head. She knew she was right – it wasn’t that bad.
“So, three hundred thousand dollars then?” Arini asked.
“Give or take,” Sharon told them.
“And you’re okay with that?” Arini did not look pleased.
“I beg your pardon,” Sharon said.
“You make it sound like three hundred thousand dollars is an acceptable number to casually lose,” Arini said. “May I remind you that’s three hundred thousand dollars of my profit!”
Sharon stammered. “Mr. Arini, I didn’t mean to say…”
“Sharon, I’m going to be blunt,” Arini told her. “I hold you and you alone responsible for the losses this restaurant has suffered, and effective immediately, Rodney is now the General Manager. You will be his assistant…for the moment.”
“You’re firing me?” Sharon was aghast.
“No, I’m demoting you. I would never flat-out fire someone for incompetence. But I do suggest that you tender your resignation when you find another job in two weeks.”
He paused to let this sink in.
“Two weeks, Sharon. You have two weeks to find other employment.”
And with that, he was gone.
A few minutes later, Sharon went after Rodney with the baseball bat…