He went straight down to his locker. Not unlike some other mornings, they were all there. Jimmy G was laying down on the bench. Victor was sitting next to him, down past his feet. Jimmy Banquet Chef was standing. He had a bottle of bourbon in hand. Victor had the Dixie cups and was spreading them out on the bench next to him.
“Here he is,” Victor said.
“Man of the hour,” the banquet chef said. “Close to three-fifty yesterday. Beat last year by over a hundred.”
“Why?” Bill asked.
“Want my real thoughts?” the banquet chef asked.
“You could lie,” Bill said. “I don’t give a shit.”
“Careful,” Victor said. “You still have a month until you’re off probation.”
“Month and four days,” the banquet chef said. He laughed. “Partly you. Food is consistent and much better since you’ve been here. The chef is very happy. Other part is the economy. Business is good. People have money.”
“It all goes together,” Victor said.
“Won’t have much today,” the banquet chef said. “We have a little prep to do for next few days. We do have a breakfast on Thursday. You should come in early and make the money.”
“I will,” Bill said.
“I think the chef wants to keep you working like you are. We were talking about it a few days ago. Banquets are slower in January and February but they pick up in some in March and then a lot more in April when baseball season starts.”
“I’ll take what I can get for hours.”
“Chef likes that about you.”
“I appreciate him working it out for me.”
“It’s me more than him,” the banquet chef said. “I know I can count on you. And you do good work.”
“Thanks boss,” Bill said.
Drinks were poured and they all had a cup of bourbon. Soon as they finished the first cup, Jimmy Banquet Chef poured another each. He told Bill the chef wasn’t coming back until tomorrow and so they could do their day and not have to worry about anything but the business. Thinking the way he was, Bill was glad about that.
“Dare we have one more?” Victor asked when they’d finished the second cup.
“Why not?” the banquet chef said. He poured one more round for everyone.
Jimmy G only sat up enough to drink from his cup. Each time, between drinks he went back to laying down. Like always, he was clearly disinterested. He made no effort to conceal his lack of interest. Worse, he made no effort to be an active part of the team. He was a part of the team because he was, but he was the weak link. Not only did he not work hard and not care who saw that he didn’t work hard, but he didn’t care about the food he cooked. If it was good or not didn’t matter to him. That meant that everyone around him, and now it was mostly Bill, had to cover for him and make sure everything was okay.
Third round finished, on top of what Bill had already had to drink before he came into work Bill was feeling numb. Maybe under other circumstances he would have been feeling good, but good wasn’t part of this day. Wrong-think was hiding under the conversation and soon as he opened his locker and took out his dirty uniforms it came rushing back into his head.
After that third drink the others went up to the kitchen. Bill, all alone, changed into the one clean uniform he had left, gathered up the dirty ones and headed off to the laundry.
Not only did wrong-think come back. Anger rushed in too. He was, of a sudden, pissed off. He could not particularly say why. He could only say that he was.
He was angry at the cop who was undercover. He was angry at Sergeant Hopkins who was in charge of his case and to whom he was just another notch in the belt toward promotion. Bill was angry at what he didn’t even know he was angry at.
