Stall Secrets

I can’t believe I just heard that. I guess love, loyalty, stability can all be flushed away in a toilet stall. I always use the end cubicle for a bit more privacy and normally a tinkle is all I do at work. Dr. Baker just prescribed me a new laxative, though. I’m not used to it and I still can’t tell when Nature is gonna call. I thought I had chosen a quiet moment but just as I was starting to meditate I heard those two, Louise and Sylvia come clattering in on their crazy high heels. How they manage in those shoes all day is beyond me. Sylvia has been with us for years, almost since Harry and I opened the restaurant. She’s a ditz but she never misses a day’s work and she’s a damned good waitress The guys drool over more than cheesecake when she serves them dessert in those heels.

A restaurant can be a soul-destroying business. Staff is one of the biggest headaches. I thought we had it solved with Sylvia and Louise working together as a team. Now, as I sit trembling on the toilet (yeah, I sit. I clean it myself after all) I realize it was just an illusion.

I was so happy when Louise showed up a year ago.  A glittery blond showing a bit of the mileage twenty years as a waitress racks up, she wanted a four-day gig that would straddle the weekend.

We took her on right away. Harry leaves the staff issues – hiring and especially firing – to me. Looking back I should have noticed when he took extra time to show Louise around. Amazing how you can take things for granted after twenty years of marriage!

He was the one who always warned me not to make friends with the employees. It’s easy for staff to steal in a restaurant – lifting food or supplies – eating in secret and most deadly of all –taking a turn at the cash when the owner is busy. Just dipping into the cash is too blatant. The classic way is to pocket both the bill and a corresponding amount of cash. Of course it comes out in the end and the new computerized registers help but the basic principle is to watch, watch the staff like a hawk. Bottom line – only the owner or a trusted family member should ever be at the cash. Second bottom line – employees are not your friends nor should they ever be. An unexpected trip to the toilet was revealing that Harry has crashed through that barrier!

Sylvia, an amiable but dense woman, has never caught on to the natural pecking order in the restaurant. She would become bosom buddies with a new dishwasher and a week later be outraged that the guy made a gross pass at her. She would try to pull rank on some young and perky weekend waitress and be surprised when the girl complained to me. I squirmed as I tried to set things straight between the two. Good help is hard to find though and I never wanted to lose Sylvia or a promising staff member. She would be totally amazed and outraged that I wasn’t taking her side even if she was behaving in a blatantly unfair way – poaching the girl’s tables or demanding she share tips because a new waitress was “learning” from her. No, Sylvia is not what you could call aware of other people’s feelings. And in a toilet stall I learned that loyalty isn’t her strong point either.

Because Sylvia could be so annoying I was pleased and relieved to see that she hit it off with Louise, a mature woman who had always made a good living as a waitress. We were happy to take her on and even happier to see that Sylvia and Louise were complementing each other. Sometimes they swapped days and when they worked together they were a real tag-team. It’s a great thing for a restaurant owner to feel he has employees who keep the customers happy, don’t fight over tips and get the side work done without squabbling. While Sylvia filled the salt and pepper shakers, Louise would put out the napkins and check for placemats. When those two worked together the coffee machines never ran out, the tea pots sat shining in the cupboard and the water jugs were ranged up clean and ready to go. A great team! I found out just how great.

Harry and I began to relax and feel we had a pretty good arrangement with Sylvia and Louise as a base. We resigned ourselves to the young, ever-changing weekend staff. We bought a new dishwashing machine and hired a Siri Lankan guy to handle it and to do the heavy cleaning. Of course, the restaurant business is a killer, long hours and a profit margin that has to be nursed like a sick baby. Restaurants make money on the craziest things. Coffee is our saviour. There’s gold in those cups – and we don’t give refills except to our regular customers.

Harry and I started this restaurant twenty years ago when we were first married. My father gave us the down payment as a wedding gift and fifty thousand dollars was a generous gift in those days. Harry was not an educated guy but we had been childhood sweethearts and my parents, conservative second generation Greeks, were anxious to see me married off. My younger sister, Kiki was a handful, even did time in a reformatory in her teens. I guess they wanted to get one of us settled. Imagine! Harry and I a good example for Kiki. She’ll have a laugh now!

We never had kids which was a heartbreak for my parents and for Harry too. I kept it quiet but I wasn’t  keen to have them. I was crazy about Harry and anxious to make the business a success. We worked long and hard. Our place is in a good spot, between a big gas station and a strip mall in the suburbs and we’ve had some good years. We’re just starting to pick up our heads. We’re able to take a decent vacation now and then. We have a nice house and I even have a cleaning lady. We each have a modest car. That’s a must so we can come and go according to what’s happening at the restaurant.

A couple of times I noticed Harry giving Louise a lift home but I didn’t think anything of it. He’s never even looked at blondes as far as I knew. So I don’t know why but when I heard Sylvia and Louise come in clattering and chattering something made me shut up and stay in the stall. What did I expect? Maybe a bit of gossip about the guy who owns the gas station. I know Sylvia has had her eye on him for a long time but that will never fly She just doesn’t get it. He’s a French Canadian guy with a gorgeous girlfriend who has no intention of letting him slip through her fingers. Sylvia can go buy cigarettes there as much as she wants. Jean-Pierre just isn’t interested.

There was a lot of laughing and that crazy hoarse cough Sylvia gets when she chuckles too much. They were obviously putting on their make up, comparing eyeliner and lipstick. I wasn’t really paying attention at first, but there was a lot of “he” and “she” so I could tell they were digging the dirt on someone. I was just about to come out and make them laugh at seeing the boss listening to their secrets when I heard Louise say something about a “fishing trip”. I broke out in a sweat then because Harry is going on a fishing trip next weekend. What the hell business was it of those two?

The conversation suddenly took a serious turn. No more laughing or coughing. Bouncing off the tiles came words I never expected to hear about Harry and me. I closed my eyes to hear better.

“He told me right out,” said Louise. “He’s totally fed up with her and ready to leave. Wants us to have this weekend together so he can clear his head and make some decisions.”

“Look, honey,” replied that snake, Sylvia. “I’ll take your shifts both days. You know that. Just call in sick and I’ll cover for you.”

“I dunno,” said Louise.” I’ve never been serious about a married man before. This is a great job too. If she finds out, the shit will hit the fan.”

“OK, but it’s basically his problem. It depends how much you like the guy too. I mean, how much are you willing to risk? Is it just a short-term fling or what?”

So there was I with my pants down listening to these two discuss the future of my marriage. What was I supposed to do? Pull my clothes on and bust out of the stall like a steer in a rodeo. That would be the end of any information I might pick up. Harry could just deny any plan to go away with Louise and what proof would I have. I couldn’t fire them both. How would I run the restaurant without those two?

They washed their hands chattering all the while about the “situation” and then they hurried out to get back to work. I was shaking. Slowly I came out of the stall. I hadn’t even managed to shit. Too upset, I guess.

What had I just heard? Could it really be true? Maybe it was just some crazy fantasy on Louise’s part. Just then my cell rang. It was Harry.

“Hi honey. Listen, I got you a pass to a great spa downtown. It’s for the whole day on Saturday. I figured if I’m going to be fishing all weekend, the least I could do for my baby is let her be spoiled. Massage, hair, nails, the whole bit. Sylvia can manage for one day. Nice eh? Honey, are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here but the signal is cutting out. I’ll call you in about an hour, OK. Love you.”

That cinched it. Smart move! At least they would be able to relax on Saturday with me parked in a Spa chair! I made up my mind. Slowly I searched for Kiki’s number in my contacts. She would know how to put a trace on a phone. I had a feeling Harry and his “fishing buddy” would be one surprised pair when I drove up on the weekend to see just what was biting.