I Love Cooking Desserts

Recently, I stumbled across the website for Joe's Stone Crabs in Miami, Florida. Their two famous pies: Key Lime and Apple with Pecan Crust, looked really good and the recipes were on their homepage. I cannot copy the recipe, but I can add a link:

Joe's Stone Crabs Official Website

First I bought the ingredients for Key Lime Pie.

Key Lime Pie

The only thing I did different is that I added two spoonfuls of honey to the pie crust. The reason why I did this is because I had an almost empty jar of honey in the cabinet, and this looked like a good recipe to use it all up.

The pie turned out really good! Here is a photo right before I pulled it out of the oven:

A week after I made the Key Lime Pie, I bought all the ingredients for the Apple Pie with Pecan Crust. FYI-pecans are not in season and they're expensive! We have a pecan tree in our backyard, and too bad all the pecans that have fallen were rotten. 

Apple Pie with Pecan Crust

Here is the pie right before I put it in the oven to bake:

Here is the pie after I added the pecan crust (top layer). This pie is really good, especially with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream:

After sampling both pies, I will say that I prefer the Key Lime Pie the best. It has more calories than the apple, but it tastes so much better!

Last, but not least, I baked homemade cookies! This recipe can be found on the back of baking chocolate chips. But, I do something different. My Nana gave me her version of the recipe, and she added two new ingredients, and substituted one ingredient for something else. Her version has a lot more calories and I don't suggest you eat all of the cookies in one day unless you want to gain a few pounds. Since this is her version, I cannot tell you what she does different. Sorry. But, I will tell you that for this batch, I replaced the chocolate chips for M & Ms, and they were delicious!

Cheddar Biscuits

I found this recipe on Tumblr and decided to make it myself.


Ingredients:

1.) 4 cups of baking mix
2.) 1 1/3 cups of water
3.) 4 oz. shredded cheese
4.) melted butter
5.) spices: pepper, salt, onion powder, garlic powder


Directions:

1.) Mix baking mix, water and cheese until firm.
2.) Cut dough into balls, place evenly on tray,
3.) Cook 400 degrees for 8-11 minutes
4.) While biscuits are cooking, mix melted butter with spices.
5.) When biscuits are done cooking, take out of oven and spread butter mixture on top.
6.) Enjoy

Vegan Pasta

Ingredients:

1.) 1 stalk of broccoli cut in medium sized pieces. Or, you can buy them this way. 
2.) Olive oil
3.) Pasta sauce of your choice
4.) Noodles
5.) Fresh cut mushrooms
6.) Spices (salt, pepper, Oregano, ect.)

Directions:

1.) Place broccoli in medium size sauce pan. Fill halfway with water, add 2 tablespoons of Olive oil. Cook on stove top on medium high heat.

2.) Let broccoli cook for 2-3 minutes. Slowly add egg noodles. Cook until tender. Add mushroom slices and cook 3-5 minutes. Add chopped onion if desired.

3.) Take sauce pan off burner, and drain noodles. I usually place a strainer in the kitchen sink, and let the noodles drain that way.

4.) Leaving noodles in strainer, heat a plastic bowl full of pasta sauce in microwave for 3 minutes. Stir liquid, then cook another 3 minutes.

5.) Transfer noodles to bowl. Add pasta sauce and spices. 

Vegan Sandwich

Ingredients: 

1.) 2 slices of wheat bread
2.) hummus
3.) 1 slice of soy cheese
4.) Romaine lettuce
5.) carrot chips
6.) pickle chips
7.) black and green olives (cut in half)
8.) 1 slice of purple onion
9.) any other veggies you might want


Directions:

1.) Spread both sides of bread with generous amounts of hummus.

2.) Add Romaine lettuce to one side of bread. Place onion, carrot chips on the side. Any other veggies you wish.

3.) On other side of bread, place pickle chips, and olives. Put cheese on top. Combine bread. 

Baked Macaroni and Cheese

Ingredients:

1.) 1 box of mac and cheese. Any brand.

2.) Feta cheese crumbles

3.) Fried onion toppers. These can be found in either the produce aisle, or the salad aisle at the grocery store.

4.) Jalapeno slices. These are optional. I love jalapenos, so I add these.

5.) Butter

6.) Milk

7.) Salt and Pepper for taste.

8.) 1 egg


Instructions:

1.) Follow instructions on box and cook mac and cheese on stove top. While noodles are cooking on stove, pre-heat your oven to 425. Spray a cooking pan with butter, or oil spray. When noodles are cooked thoroughly and can be eaten, take off stove and drain.

2.) In a small bowl (or in the strainer bowl) combine powdered cheese (from mac and cheese box), egg and jalapenos. Mix good.

3.) Transfer noodles to cooking pan. Drizzle enough milk to cover the entire mixture. Add feta cheese on top, fried onions and salt and pepper.

4.) Cook in oven until top looks golden brown.

It's Been Awhile

I know it's been awhile since I updated my blog. I've been writing a lot. My new book, Retail Stories will be published on Amazon Kindle early next year (unless the Mayan calendar comes true).

I've decided for my New Year's Resolution that I will start eating healthy. Every time I visit the grocery store, I will post what I bought, and the meals I plan on preparing for the following two weeks. I have been sick lately (nothing serious). I believe what is wrong with me can be 'cured' by changing my eating habits. I did give up diet coke this year. I gave it up on July 16th, and haven't had a single craving since. It took awhile to get used to the water and green tea I substituted for it. I do know that it takes more than just drinking water to change ones diet. I'm trying to go vegan as possible. I won't say 100% vegan, more like 90%. We'll see how it goes.

Chapter Two Of My New Book: Retail Stories

(This chapter is unedited. I will be working on that asap! This will be the last free chapter. The entire novel will be available for purchase in early January 2013.)

Chapter Two

The Chicken Job

Or: the job where the “yuppie” managers swindled their workers out of money.

Summer 2002

Avoy, Georgia

I heard about the job through a friend of mine. He went in the restaurant for half-price chicken Fridays, talked to the manager, and learned they were hiring. He told them I was looking for a job. The manager told my friend they would start me off at seven dollars an hour—that’s how badly they needed someone. At the time the minimum wage was five dollars and fifty cents. I was eighteen, a recent high school graduate, and needed a job. I had no idea what I was in for.

The fast food restaurant franchise was located in the ghetto part of town. Surrounding the place were greasy hamburger diners, used car lots, old frame houses, and cars with stereos that cost more than the actual vehicle. Pulling up into the lot, I saw how cracked the sidewalk was. A faded sign shaped like a giant chicken proudly said: Chester’s Chicken Coop.

Walking inside, the smell of burnt chicken hit my nose. A few employees slowly wandered in from the kitchen. I told them I was looking for the manager. They pointed to the dining room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an employee pick a piece of chicken from the pan and pop it in her mouth. She reminded me of Jasmine from Marty’s Pizza. I could tell she hated her job and she never spoke one word to me. Not a greeting…nothing.

I found the manager sitting in a far corner table. He was wearing a suit and tie. His blond hair was spiked with gel. He wore several pieces of jewelry. A gold chain, a single diamond ring and an expensive watch. He had a notebook planner on the table in front of him, while he spoke in excited whispers to someone on his cell phone. He kept jotting down numbers. Finally, he ended his conversation, and looked up at me with a tired look on his face.

“Yeah…”

I looked at him in confusion. I thought he knew I was coming.

“My name is Adrian,” I said in a calm, clear, voice. “My friend was here yesterday. He told you about me.”

The manager blinked a few times. Then he seemed to understand.

“Oh, yeah! Ha-Ha! I got an application around here somewhere.”

He shuffled the papers around, and brought forth a wrinkled application with greasy fingerprints on the top.

“Sit down.” He gestured toward the chair in front of him.

I perched down on the hard chair and wished I hadn’t worn a wool skirt in the hot June weather.

“You look nervous.” He turned and twisted his gold watch to the window, admiring the way the sunlight reflected from it. “I bought this last night. Cost me about a thousand dollars.”

I noted the way he looked at me when he described his purchase. He wanted me to feel jealous of his expensive watch. It seemed he liked being the center of attention.

“It’s nice,” I lied. “And, no I’m not nervous. It’s hot outside.”

The man grunted and glanced down at his own suit.

“This is Armani,” he drawled. “Its wool and I’m cool as a cucumber.”

And, you’re an idiot to be wearing something that expensive in a fast food restaurant. I thought to myself.

“It looks good.” I smiled at him, remembering he liked compliments.

“Why thank you,” he grinned. “My name is Hampton by the way.”

I shook his hand and wondered if he meant first or last name.

We chatted for a bit. He needed a cashier who spoke English. The girls in the kitchen only spoke Spanish with broken English, and the majority of the time they couldn’t talk to the customers. The hours were Monday through Friday 9-5. Then he did something that should have made me turn down the job. He wrote the number $5.50 on my application and circled it in red pen.

“You will be making this much an hour.”

He stared at me. He knew that he told my friend seven dollars and he knew that I knew that. His blue eyes seemed to narrow, and his mouth drew down in a firm line. He tried desperately to look older and tougher than twenty-three years of age.

“That’s fine.”

I inwardly rolled my eyes. Community college would be starting soon and I would have leftover money from the government. If it was enough, I would probably quit this job. What I didn’t know at the time was that this job would last roughly four days. The shortest job I ever worked.

~~~~~

I started next Monday. Hampton met me outside the restaurant. He opened up a mini-storage behind the drive-thru and pulled out a mustard yellow color t-shirt to put on. I noticed a worker from the hamburger place next door wandering over. He looked greasy and tired. He chuckled as Hampton introduced me to him. I wondered why an employee from another restaurant, whom I assumed was on the clock, came over to talk to my manager.

“Take a note, Adrian,” Hampton announced. “Everyone from Larry’s Hamburger Place gets to eat for free. When they order, you tally their food up on the register, and then hit the free sale button. Understood?”

“Uh, sure,” I mumbled.

It didn’t make sense. Why were the workers from Larry’s Hamburgers allowed to eat for free? Did they not get free lunches at their place? And, why was Hampton best friends with the workers? My manager acted like a kid in his early twenties who tried too hard. The workers from Larry’s Hamburgers had to be in their thirties and beyond. They looked greasy and acted really immature for their age. Something didn’t add up.

Returning to the restaurant, Hampton instructed one of the workers to “show me the ropes.” The girl looked like she would rather drink bleach. She happened to be the same girl who ignored me when I came in for the interview.

Hampton took a plastic cup from the dispenser, filled it with soda and left through the backdoor.

“Where is he going?” I asked the girl.

She shrugged, picked a piece of fried chicken from the hot plate, popped it in her mouth and replied:

“He spends the whole day over at the hamburger place. He never works. We work. He gets paid to sit around and bad mouth everyone next door. Watch out for him, white girl. Say the wrong thing, even something innocent, and he will turn it around.”

“But, won’t he get in trouble?” I asked, turning to wash my hands in the sink.

The girl smirked, tossed back her long black hair, and placed her hands on her hips.

“Look white girl. You’re new here. Nobody like you because you’re one of them. But, I’m nice. Don’t let them catch me talking to you. Hampton, his girlfriend owns this place. Well, her family does. He doesn’t own anything. He just the boyfriend. They not even married. Don’t take his side. Side with us, keep your mouth shut and do your job. Don’t make friends with Hampton…he no good. He tried to get my friend in trouble. She couldn’t go to police because she don’t have green card. Hampton knew this and hired her anyway. He took her money and fired her. Stay away from Hampton and his girlfriend, Mallory. Understand? They crooks.”

I didn’t know what to say. Her use of the term ‘white girl’ to describe me didn’t bother me at all. It should have, but I shrugged it off. I was more concerned about Hampton and his girlfriend, Mallory.

The girl turned and opened the walk-in freezer. I dried my hands on some paper towels. Should I believe her? I didn’t even know her name. Her story made a bit of sense. Hampton acted weird and he seemed to spend a lot of time next door at Larry’s Hamburger Place.

With a sigh, I helped her cook the chicken when she returned from the freezer. The hours dwindled by. She took every customer’s order, while I fixed the plates and boxes. After lunch, we peeked out the drive-thru window and found a stray cat meowing. We tossed it fried chicken. Hampton was still next door. He only came in twice during my shift.

The first time, a customer had paid for an eight-dollar meal with a hundred-dollar bill. We kept the large bills in a small locked box under the register. Hampton had the key. I slipped the bill back to the customer, who didn’t speak English, and walked next door to fetch Hampton. By then, there was a large line of customers looking at me in disbelief. I had no choice but to leave the restaurant. After finding my manager and telling him the problem, he looked at me like it was somehow my fault. He came back to the diner, unlocked the safe, and ignored the customer complaints. He retreated to his laptop in the break room for about thirty minutes. When the lunch crowd ended, he returned next door.

My co-worker “friend” left an hour before I did, and around that time Mallory’s car zoomed up into the driveway and parked beside Hampton’s SUV. From the drive-thru camera, I watched her emerge from the sports car and walk over to meet Hampton at the burger place. She looked to be in her late ‘20s or early ‘30s. She wore a tailored suit and heavily applied make-up, but I could tell by looking at her face that she had lived a hard life. There were way too many wrinkles on her forehead for her age, and no amount of make-up could hide the black rings around her eyes. Her black hair looked to be dyed. I studied her as she walked up to the backdoor and saw she had fuchsia streaks that matched her eye shadow. I shuddered. Who dyes their hair to match their make-up?

The backdoor swung open and Mallory walked toward the break room with Hampton. I could hear the taps of her high heels on the concrete floor. I pretended to refill the iced tea machines, and snuck a peek at Hampton’s girlfriend.  Her shoes were Chanel. I knew this for a fact. I spent my high school days studying in the school library and in between reading history books I skimmed through the latest issue of Vogue Magazine.  I knew all about couture and how to spot a fake. Mallory’s shoes were definitely real.

I studied the two of them. Hampton showed her something on his laptop. Mallory smiled and nodded, she looked pleased. The two of them were dressed like bank managers and not workers at a greasy chicken franchise. They caught me looking at them. Mallory smiled up at me. I turned to dump a plastic bucket of ice into the iced tea machine.

“Adrian,” she called in a soft voice.

Remembering my co-worker’s warning, I turned and smiled back at them.

“Yes?”

“Come sit with us. Let Frank run the register.” She snapped her fingers at the tall Spanish man who recently clocked in. He nodded and shuffled toward the front of the store.

Having no other choice, I walked over and joined them in the break room nook.

“So, how are things going?” Mallory cracked her knuckles, admiring her fresh manicure.

“Fine,” I replied. “I’m getting the hang of this job.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the break room. Mallory pulled a compact from her matching Chanel purse and checked her make-up. Hampton fidgeted on the chair beside her. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Has Maria said anything to you today?”

So, that’s her name.

“No,” I shook my head.

I didn’t want to start any gossip on my first day.

Hampton frowned at me and pressed his lips together in a firm line like before.

“I recently fired her friend. In fact, I hired you to take her place. That little puta. Caught her stealing money from the register!”

“Oh,” I replied.

I started to think. Did Maria make the story up about Hampton and Mallory being crooks? Maybe she was upset that her friend had just been fired and I took her place.

“Don’t pay any attention to that bitch,” Mallory waved her hand in annoyance.

“Carmen, the girl we just fired, moved here from Texas. I recently learned this. After we fired her for stealing, I did a background check on the little thief. She emigrated from Brazil a few years ago, and started working various fast food jobs in Dallas. When her past caught up with her, she found refuge here in Georgia at a friend’s house. You can only guess the friend?”

“Maria?” I asked.

Hampton nodded, and Mallory continued her story.

“I should have done a background check when we hired her, but we were desperate for work and she had fast food jobs on her resume. So, if she says anything to you, come to me. I need an excuse to fire her. Unfortunately, she is not an illegal like Carmen. She was born in Atlanta. Maria met her through some mutual friends.”

“I see,” I muttered.   

I wondered if Mallory told the truth. Why would she lie? I didn’t know Carmen, and it only made sense that Maria would hate Hampton and Mallory because they fired her friend. But, still something didn’t add up. Why was Hampton so buddy-buddy with the guys next door? Why did he feel the need to spend his entire shift hanging out in the kitchens of a rundown hamburger place?  Looking back on this moment, I feel annoyed at myself for what happened next. I ignored Maria’s warning and warmed up to Hampton and Mallory.

“Maria says that you spend a lot of time next door and that you two are crooks.”

Yes, I actually said that.

“Oh, she said that?” Hampton’s eyes seemed to grow large.

“I spend a lot of time next door because there is always someone on duty here at the diner. Plus, my girlfriend owns the place. I can do what I choose. Ya know? I don’t trust that Maria with the safe key, so I keep it on me at all times. How can I trust her when her friend just stole from me? Oh, and the number to Larry’s Hamburgers is posted by the phone. Maria knows that. She should have told you to call me when you needed change. There was no need for you to leave the diner. Stupid Maria!”

Hampton then began calling her every racial slur in the book, while Mallory laughed. I winced and began to worry if tattling on her would cause trouble.

Mallory reached out and took a sip of water. Her fuchsia dyed bangs fell in her face.

“For three hundred dollars, you would think they'd do a better job.” She angrily pulled a headband from her purse and secured the hair back in place.

“And, that’s another thing,” she hissed.

“Maria thinks we are crooks? My parents are rich! Hampton and I don’t even need this job! We live in a nice apartment in the rich side of Avoy. We wear expensive clothes to work every day because we want to show our customers that we’re business people! When my mother opened this restaurant ten years ago, this neighborhood was nice! People had respect and class! Now, the damn illegals have taken over! My mother refuses to move the restaurant to the nice part of town, so we have to show these immigrants that we are a respectful business!”

Mallory paused and gave a short laugh, as if she were dismissing her racial rant. To my disbelief, Hampton pulled out a silver nail file from his jacket pocket and started working on his cuticles. I sat there in shock. Just because Maria lied to me, that didn’t give my managers the right to make fun of her race.

“You know,” I started, but Mallory interrupted me.

“Eat dinner with us tonight. We just bought a brand new 2002 SUV and want to show it off. There is an Indian restaurant in Alpharetta. We’ll pay for everything. I really want to talk to you more. Get to know you better. You seem like a nice kid.”

I stared back at them. Mallory gazed deep into my eyes. Hampton gave a big smile. Something didn’t seem right, but I accepted. They told me they would pick me up around six o’clock.

~~~~~

An hour and thirty minutes later, I sat, barefoot on an imitation silk pillow of sorts at Aladdin’s Mystical Palace (FYI-I made this name up. There is no restaurant by that name, to my knowledge, in Alpharetta, GA.). Mallory and Hampton had changed into the most outrageous costumes I had ever seen. They wore Arabian type pants and tunics. I felt truly embarrassed, because they were white. It’s the same kind of feeling you get when you see a white person dress up in Native American costumes, or any type of costume that doesn’t represent his or her heritage. It’s just wrong. The nice waiter who took our order must have felt the same way I did. He didn’t try to hide the snarl of disgust on his face. At that moment I began to think coming with them was a bad idea.

“Addie,” Mallory drawled, while she lit a cigarette.

“Choose anything you want. I’ll pay. The two of us plan on sharing some fried vegetables, pork, pita bread and hummus.”  

I nodded and chose one of the vegetarian platters. The two of them seemed friendly enough. They weren’t bad-mouthing Maria or Carmen anymore. Their outfits, on the other hand, were generating a lot of giggling and pointing from the surrounding guests. I pretended not to notice, and found interest in my diet soda. A few moments of small talk passed and the waiter brought us our food. Hampton put on an air, and started acting stuck-up. He demanded silly things, like water at room temperature and a freshly washed napkin. The elderly Indian man shot him another look of disgust and shuffled back to the kitchen.

Mallory and Hampton then turned to me and shared a sly smile with one another. I froze in confusion. I felt coldness in the pit of my stomach. Something didn’t seem right. At that moment, I realized I had made a mistake in coming. The look the two of my managers shared reminded me of the girls in high school. You know the kind, the stupid clique ones who flash fake smiles and gossip about you behind your back.

“Adrian,” Mallory called out. Her voice seemed sweet as sugar. “Since you did such a great job your first day, we want to tell you all about the Chester’s Chicken Coop Employee Games. We would like for you to join.”

“But, you’re not in any obligation to join,” Hampton quickly interrupted. He then smiled, and took a few sips of his Indian beer.

The Chester’s Chicken Coop Employee Games! I thought to myself. Something didn’t seem right. The way Mallory and Hampton smiled at one another. They looked like cats trapping a mouse. I decided to play along. I smiled back, casually took a bite of my pita bread, swallowed, and then asked:

“What’s the employee games?”

A strange look swept across Mallory’s face as she leaned forward. Hampton lazily took another sip of beer.

“It’s quite a good deal, actually! You’ll make a profit! By the end of this month you’ll have an extra thousand dollars all to yourself! You can pay off your new car, or buy some new clothes! Or, take someone special out to the new club scene in Atlanta!”

As Mallory rambled on about all the great benefits of the games, I realized she had yet to tell me what they were. Something sounded fishy.

OK,” I settled back in the pillows, while stretching out my legs. “I’ve heard about all the great benefits of these games. So, what is it? What will I be doing?”

Hampton looked me dead straight in the eye. Without flinching he said point blank:

“Give us one hundred dollars of your paycheck every week.”

Silence filled the booth, and then Mallory let out a short laugh.

“There are ten employees total at Chester’s Chicken,” she started ticking names off her fingers.

“Each employee gives one hundred dollars, which equals a thousand dollars. We then draw a name from the bucket and the name we draw, that person gets the money. When all names have been drawn and everyone gets to bring home a thousand dollars, then we start all over again.”

“But, you don’t have to participate,” Hampton interrupted.

“But, you’ll eventually get a thousand dollars!” Mallory nodded her head as if she were agreeing with her own statement.

I looked back at them in disbelief. How stupid did they think I was? This was gambling. Also, there was the possibility that a co-worker, after winning the jackpot, would refuse to enter the next lottery draw. Not to mention, an employee getting fired or quitting before the next draw. The jackpot goes down. Mallory and Hampton had to be, without a doubt, the two stupidest people…con-artists…crooks…swindlers. At that moment I realized Maria was right all along. They would steal my money. I bet Carmen’s firing had to do with the money. She probably threatened to go to the police, and Mallory threatened her right back with deportation. How despicable!

I focused my attention back to Mallory and Hampton. They seemed eagerly awaiting my reply.

“Um…” I folded my hands in my lap. “When I get paid I need to use my entire check on my car payment and gas.”

“The whole thing!” Hampton interrupted. He snarled, but quickly gave a short laugh.

“There is not a measly hundred you can spare?”

I liked how he said ‘measly’ like one hundred dollars was nothing.

“My car payment is one hundred and ten dollars every month. My first paycheck from Chester’s Chicken will be about one-thirty. I have to pay my car, or they will repo it.”

Mallory and Hampton quickly exchanged looks.

“That’s fine,” Mallory spread her fingers out on the wooden bench that was serving as our table. “Next payday, yes? You will donate money for our game? Your bills will be caught up so there is no reason for you not to play.”

Before I could think of a retort, Mallory snapped her fingers.

“Waiter, bring us our ticket. We’re leaving.”

Hampton ignored me as Mallory paid the bill. It was no secret that the two of them wanted me to donate to their stupid game. I wondered why. I had no interest in them, or the game.

Nobody spoke a word to me as they drove me home. Something didn’t seem right. I had a feeling they would try once again to get me to donate a hundred dollars to their game.

~~~~~

The following day I had the misfortune to work with an elderly Russian man named Alfie. He happened to be the restaurant’s other manager. Hampton and Mallory decided to take the day off. Alfie treated his staff with disrespect, muttering Russian cusswords under his breath. To the customers he appeared to be the perfect manager. I wanted to strangle him.

Exactly one hour before my shift ended, Alfie yelled at me to clock out for a lunch break.

“You have exactly thirty minutes!” He barked.

One of the customers at the register rolled his eyes as Alfie wandered to the walk-in freezer.

“Don’t worry about that old geezer,” he whispered to me. “I started out this way back in the late ‘80s. I now work in the Athens music scene.”

“Must be fun,” I muttered, picking up my purse from underneath the cash wrap.

“Just keep your head up, and never give up. Remember, you’re what you make yourself to be. If you see yourself as a success in your head, you will be successful. If you see yourself as a failure, you will be one. May I suggest reading the book, The Richest Man in Babylon? I read it in college, and now I’m almost a millionaire. “

I thanked the man as he took his chicken plate and headed toward the dining room. Deciding not to eat at work, I headed toward the hamburger place next door. I wandered why Hampton enjoyed it so much.

Walking in, the smell of greasy burgers and French fries hit my nose. The employees at the counter and in the kitchen were the same men who wandered over every hour for free food and soda. The man at the register gave no indication that he knew me, even though he talked my ear off every time he came into Chester’s Chicken. I ordered a small salad, onion rings, and a diet coke to go. An odd vibe seemed to be coming from the kitchen as the men huddled up behind the large grills and shot me dirty looks. I had a small flashback to when I worked at Marty’s Pizza.

Taking my food, I walked briskly back to my car. A glance at my watch told me I had twenty minutes to shovel down my lunch. Locking myself in the car, I lowered the driver’s side window and started popping onion rings in my mouth. If I was late coming back to work, Alfie would gleefully tattle to Mallory and Hampton.

As I poured dressing on my salad and was about to take a bite I could hear two men talking loudly from behind the shared dumpster.

“Did Hampton get that money?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. He tried. I heard he’s in trouble. Serves him right for being so fucking stupid.”

“If he don’t get that thousand by Friday, he’ll be back in jail! This time Mallory’s rich family ain’t saving his ass! They hate him so much! Mallory’s blinded by that boy’s good looks. He’s bad news.”

“Yeap, and the new girl ain’t no illegal either! So, if they steal her hundred, then she can go to the police and prosecute! They can’t blackmail her with deportation!”

“Why they hire her in the first place if she ain’t no Mexican?”

“Mallory thought she was stupid. I talked to her a few times. She ain’t stupid. She goes to college up yonder. Plus, she probably told her parents about the so called games and shit. I’m surprised Mal and Hampton didn’t try to hook up with her for a threesome? That’s what they did with the last white chick who was legal. After they stole her money, she threatened to sue, but they used that, ‘You slept with us. We will tell everyone’ BS, and it worked.”

I could hear one man spit on the ground in disgust.

“She hadn’t figured it out yet that we all in this gambling ring. Hampton needs that girl’s hundred and he will do everything he can to get it. He can’t steal from Mallory’s parents no more. They have a restraining order against him. As long as she dating him, she can’t return home.”

“This is his get rich quick scheme…”

I heard the men throw several bags of trash in the dumpster and walk back to their restaurant. The clock on my car dashboard told me I had ten more minutes. Polishing off the rest of my food, I nervously stepped out of my car, locked it, and hit the alarm button. It took awhile for the confession to hit me. Hampton only wanted my money to pay for his gambling debts. That is why he and Mallory set up the Chester’s Chicken Coop Employee Games. I bet none of the employees ever got their thousand. They were fired before the first drawing. I decided to put in my two weeks' notice.

I clocked in and worked for the next thirty minutes. A customer came to the counter, ordered chicken nuggets, paid with a credit card, and when her order arrived, she yelled in a loud voice that she said chicken tenders. Alfie had to credit her money back to her account and cook up a batch of chicken tenders, all while cussing up a storm in Russian under his breath. He knew damn well that customer said chicken nuggets. I wanted to hit him and the stupid customer.

There was one thing I learned in my ten years of retail and fast food jobs: customers will abuse the old saying, ‘the customer is always right’ to get free meals. And, the majority of these men and women call themselves Christians.

I left work at exactly five o’clock, ignoring Alfie’s muttering. I tried not to let that conversation get to me. According to the two men whom I overheard talking, Hampton would try to get his money any way he could. I couldn’t let that happen. I needed that hundred for a car payment.

~~~~~

Two days later, Mallory fired me. She took me into the dining room, sat me down, and told me that the register had been short lately and she traced it back to me. I thought it to be funny because I had not used the register at all in the past three days. Alfie rang the customers up, while I prepared the food. I was too mad at her and Hampton to fight it. And, like Marty’s Pizza, I didn’t sign a termination sheet.

A week later, I went in to pick up my last check. Hampton and Mallory weren’t in sight. Alfie handed me my check. Opening it up in my car, I saw Hampton had got his hundred after all. He took out that much money, and wrote at the bottom of my paystub that exactly one hundred dollars was missing from my drawer.

That night I received a telephone call from them. After stepping out of the shower, I noticed I had a missed call, and a voice mail. A drunken Mallory and Hampton left me a long rambling message that didn’t make any sense. I heard several sentences in between fits of laughter:

“Was I fired, or did I quit?”

“We got our hundred, didn’t we?”

“Employee games! I can’t believe you fell for that crap!”

“Are you going to go to the police? They won’t…”

I didn’t even finish the pathetic message. I hit delete, and realized I could have had them arrested for harassment. I cursed myself, and threw my phone across the room. The next day, I called up my service provider, and requested a new number.

At the time, it didn’t cross my mind that she fired me because I refused to participate in the employee games. I wouldn’t learn that until years later when the Avoy police finally caught up with Hampton and Mallory, raided their apartment, and found years of records on their computer. They had all of their former employee’s names, social security numbers and other personal info on file, as well as why they fired them.

I was called into the police station. I told them my side of the story, leaving nothing out: the employee games, firing Maria and Carmen, Alfie the rude Russian manager, the workers at Larry’s Hamburgers, the drunken message after picking up my last paycheck. The police officer then handed me copies of the files Hampton had on me. Across my employee application he had written: Fired! Refusal to participate in employee games. Had her believe money was missing from drawer.

Hampton and Mallory went directly to prison and served a few years. After they were released, they left Georgia. Since this took place before social media, I had no clue what happened to them. Earlier this year, in 2012, I searched Hampton’s name. He is now calling himself a photographer and living in New York; photographing the yuppie scene. His website is filled with amateur photos. His pricing is ridiculously expensive for awful photographs. I guess he now has to make his money legally.

As for Mallory, I found her on Myspace. According to her profile, she is divorced and living back with her parents in Georgia. She just turned thirty-eight years old.

Chester’s Chicken Coop is now under new management, as well as Larry’s Hamburgers. When the police went to question the men at the hamburger place, they found the diner mysteriously locked up. It took the police several weeks to track the men down. They also served a full jail sentence for gambling.

Oh, and I finally took that nice customer’s advice and bought a copy of, The Richest Man in Babylon. If Hampton and Mallory wanted to make money legally, they should have read the book.