The Cat Who Walks Through Walls

February 13, 2009 at 1:12 AM | Posted in Riding In Cars With Pizza | Leave a comment
  Kind of a follow-up on the break-in thing.  I showed up about 545 because, since I wasn’t technically scheduled, I wasn’t obligated to be on time.  Normally I show up about 515.  It’s subtle, I know.
  Lots of people, lots of activity.  Couple of guys that were actually working, repairing a wall.  Stan was there, and Sam brought some food from another store.  Also Tom, the supervisor.  You know, he’s nice enough–but it is specifically stated in my contract that I do not have to have contact with anyone in upper management.  This is about the fifth time in 12 months that I’ve seen the guy, and I swear that enough is enough.
  But from the pictures on his cell phone, and the story being told, I got a clearer picture of what happened the previous night.  A couple of thugs tried to break in through the front door using a crow bar.  They didn’t just break the glass, instead they tried to pry it.  Failing at that, they went next door to the vacant space in the strip, kicked in the metal door, and then proceeded to break into Domino’s by busting a hole in the wall.
  The clowns tore a hole in the wall (through the map) knocked a bunch of shit over, tried to pry the safe open (obviously they were professionals), and beat the hell out of the drivers’ drop box (I have a picture of that)  If there had been pie residue around, I would say that the culprits were The Three Stooges.
  We ("we" meaning the other people before I got there–I did none of this) threw out a bunch of food.  Fearing contamination–in other words, who knows what these ridiculous thugs might have done to the food–we got rid of anything that was prepped up, in an open container.  Before he left, Tom asked me to make sure I do a very accurate food count that night, to account for everything that was tossed.  He said insurance would cover it.  More on that later, unless I forget.
  The store didn’t open until about 3pm, because it was a crime scene, and because it was a disaster.  Then they got people in there to fix things, get the computers up and running, and–oh, yeah–replace the office printer.  It was stolen.
  The store has at least half a dozen flat screen computer monitors, plus other shit, and they stole the printer.  New, the printer is 200 dollars.  Used, it’s a good forty bucks.  These guy were smart.  Eventually we got things together.
  Sam left shortly after I got there–he had dropped off some food for us from his store, and then stayed to help on the line because there was too much going on for Stan to focus on the task at hand, which is make pizzas.  I got there, I jump on the line immediately while Stan walked around with a bewildered look in his eyes.  He truly couldn’t focus with this much activity.
  Then Tom left, and finally, the guys fixing the wall left.  This guy shows up–I swear I’ve never seen him before–and he calls me by name.  Come to find out he is the owner’s brother, and his position is Director of Operations.  So, he’s the one that does the actual work.  We chatted for a few minutes as though we knew each other.  In the back of my mind, however, is the thought that this is the mother fucker who wouldn’t give a me decent wage and now wanted to cut my pay.  But he was a nice guy.  He left after inspecting the job that was done fixing the wall.
  Stan put the office back together after dinner rush, and then he left.  That was good, because it seemed like he was going to stay.  And if he was going to stay, I was going to leave.  I was prepared to tell him, "Look dude, if you’re going to stick around, I’m leaving.  We don’t need both of us here, and I don’t need you looking over my shoulder when I’m sitting on my ass reading."
  But he left.
  The late night was dead, and about 1030 I put down my book and started to count the food.  He said, "Count everything as accurately as possible–"  I wanted to say, "You mean like I do *every* night?" because it was funny and because we both knew it wasn’t true.  So I did count everything.  Practically everything.  I mean, I’m not a religious fanatic.  So when it was all said and done, we lost an extra 500 dollars worth of food.  That is quite a bit, let me tell you.  But we get it back through insurance, and it was a freebie in terms of catching up.  But let me tell you a secret–
  The computer generates what we call an "ideal food"  This tells us what we should have used and lists what the ending inventory should be.  This is why I have never counted everything and on the rare occasions when I do count something it’s only a dozen or so important items.  But this gives you a guide so that when you count you know where your number should be.  This way, if you’re short, you can look for more stuff, count again, or fudge the number.  Your choice.
  So for many things that night, what we had was way short of the ideal, which was to be expected.  But some things…Some things that I’ve never counted we were *over* on.  There was more in the store than the inventory showed.  The number I used was what the ideal generated–what’s gone is gone.  But I have that list, and if I need to make up some food, I can go back to that list and enter the real number.  This is known as a "buffer."  And that, children, is the end of the lesson for today, "How to use disaster to your advantage."

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