Chapter one of my new book, Retail Stories is complete and edited. This chapter tells about my first job as a waitress in a small town pizza parlor. I researched everything there is to know about writing non-fiction and not getting sued. I've changed names, locations, and tweaked events. I will say about 90% of this story is true. The conversations that take place actually took place. I remember them well. You don't forget this. You never forget your first job, especially if your job was like mine. I should have sued that bitch. Here is my story:
The Pizza Job
Author’s note: This chapter is not meant to defame, insult, or damage anyone’s reputation. I have excluded names, places, and even set this story in a different state, with a fictional name of the city. I have researched everything possible before writing my memoirs about working in the fast food/retail business.
I was seventeen in 2001, and I needed to make payments on my first car. My senior year of high school would be starting in two months. I needed a job and fast. With only babysitting experience under my belt, nobody would hire me--except the local pizza place. For privacy reasons, let’s call this restaurant: Marty’s Fantastic Pizza Palace. This restaurant closed down a long time ago. Marty is not the owner’s name, but for the sake of privacy, I’ll call him that anyway. He worked at this restaurant with his girlfriend “Alicia.”
I noticed the Help Wanted sign in the window. I went in and applied. Marty was there, sitting on one of the faded booths and making what appeared to be a work schedule. He had to be in his late ‘50s, short (5-ft-8), blond hair, a tad overweight, and--judging from his nicotine-stained fingers—a chain smoker.
With a grunt, he handed me an application. I filled it out and handed it back. He skimmed over it, and said, “Come in on Saturday and work four hours for me to see how it goes. I won’t be here, but the second in command will. I’ll pay you minimum wage, which is five dollars and fifty cents.”
And, that’s how I received my first job. I was officially a ‘pizza girl.’
Saturday came. I opened the store with two girls who looked to be eighteen. One was snapping gum. The other, the second in command, looked like she had just rolled out of bed. I was then given a baseball cap for my hair, and a blue t-shirt that said, “I’m A Proud Worker for Marty’s Fantastic Pizza Palace!”
Following the girls to the kitchen, I took note of my surroundings. There were two large ovens, and a prep counter for making pizzas and salads. An old fridge stood by the back wall. The opposite wall held a microwave and another mini-fridge. The place had an old feel to it. I later learned it had been built in the late ‘70s, and nothing really had changed. Dated appliances, cracked cement floors, yellowish walls. It had it all.
My first task was to chop onions, and I guess they thought I sucked at it. I was then shown the backrooms--three total. The first room consisted of a massive sink and two dishwashers, the second was the walk-in freezer, and the third consisted of a dough maker. I was steered into the last room, which was about the size of a walk-in food pantry. Bags of spices and flour were crammed into the shelves. I was taught how to add oregano to the pizza dough. The second in command told me to take my time. I guess they didn’t want me to be working in the dining room on my first day?
As she rolled her eyes and was about to sashay her skinny frame away, I asked her what her name was. She looked at me as if I should already know the answer. She told me her name was Jasmine. And, the other girl—the ditzy bubble gum chewing redhead—was Parker. And that was how I was introduced to everyone.
Throughout the day, I mainly stayed in the kitchen cleaning dishes. About thirty minutes before my shift ended, Jasmine tried her best to teach me how to make a pizza. You took a dough from the freezer, laid it on the prep table, flattened it out with the roller, sprayed (yes, sprayed) the dough with butter spray, splashed on some tomato sauce, and then you added cheese, meat, veggies. You placed the pizza in the pan, and into the oven it went for fifteen minutes. I seemed to get the hang of it. I handled a few orders before the door chimed, and quite a large woman entered the kitchen.
“You must be the new gal.”
I turned around. And there she was: Marty’s girlfriend-Alicia. She was short, she was extremely overweight, she had a bad bleach job, and she wore way too much make-up. And she was looking me over. I found her to be disgusting. I was seventeen, and she had to be in her late forties. I’m guessing she saw me as a threat of some kind.
“Hello, my name is Adrian.” I answered cheerfully. A little too cheerfully, because Jasmine snorted and walked outside for a cigarette break. Parker just kept towards the back, twirling her hair so the customers couldn’t see her.
“Well, Miss Adrian, tell me, are you single?”
Huh? I thought to myself. What a weird way to start a conversation with someone you don’t know.
“Yes, I’m single.” I answered, while glancing up at the clock. Only five more minutes!
“I see,” Alicia said, placing her hands on her enormous hips. A stained apron stretched across her large figure. “Well, I’ve been dating Marty for almost three months now. I met him at one of the bars here in town. I’ve never met a man so…short. Ha Ha! But, when he told me he owns a pizza parlor, I hooked onto him! I always wanted to date a business man!”
I inwardly rolled my eyes at her ignorance. Anyone without business experience, could open a pizza franchise.
“Well,” I took another look at the clock. “It’s two o’clock. I best be clocking out now. I shall see you on Wednesday.”
“Yes,” she said, her mouth drawing into a thin line. “Marty will be opening with you. In fact, it will be just you and him. I have to babysit my niece.”
“Ah,” I turned to take off the baseball cap, placing it on one of the hooks on the wall. “Well, I look forward to working. I’m starting to like this job.”
I turned to write down my times on the bulletin board. I felt Alicia watching me. As I turned to leave, I could hear her mutter under her breath, “I see. I see.”
What a crazy lady, I thought, as I made my way outside to my car. Glancing up, I could see her looking out the dining room window. An uneasy feeling swept over me. This lady didn’t like me, and I’ve only known her for five minutes.
“I wanted parmesan cheese on this, not sugar!”
The angry customer slammed an order of cheese rolls down at the register. She spoke really softly like the employees were mentally challenged. She wore a shirt with the logo of Avoy First Baptist Church.
"I’m sorry, ma’am. We must have sprinkled sugar on it by mistake. Let me fix you another plate.”
The hypocritical Christian rolled her eyes, placed her hands on her enormous stomach, and announced:
“Duh-Duh-Duh! I want my money back, and a large order of hamburger rolls for free, or I’ll report this restaurant to The Better Business Bureau!”
She waved her hand in the air, shook her head back and forth, and stomped her feet. Her eyes grew large. I look at her like she was an escaped mental patient.
“We don’t make hamburger rolls anymore,” I politely informed her.
She responded by rolling her eyes and rudely making a scene.
“Now, you just get on that phone and call up Marty! I’ve known that man for years! He knows me! And, I want hamburger rolls!”
She folded her arms over her chest, looked down her nose, twitched her head back and forth, and pursed her lips together.
I tried hard not to burst out laughing as I went in the back and found Marty on the phone yelling at Alicia.
“What do you mean you’re…?” He paused, and then turned to look at me. I gestured towards the front counter. The hypocritical Christian was stuffing handfuls of free peppermints into her imitation designer purse.
“Hold on, Alicia. I have a crabby customer. Yeah, it’s that bitch I went to high school with--Mrs. Candy, the biggest hypocrite at Avoy Baptist! Using her damn religion to get what she wants! ‘But-but-I’m a Christian! I demand free shit!’ I’ll call you back in a bit.”
Marty slammed down the phone and looked at me.
“Wanna see me work a hypocrite?”
“Uh,” I paused. I had no clue what he meant. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Good!” Marty announced, rubbing his hands together.
I followed him to the front. He seemed cheerful and upbeat as he addressed the vulgar woman.
“Why, Mrs. Candy,” he called out, placing the palms of his hands on the wooden counter. “How are you doing today? It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you! The last time I believe was at church! I caught you on your cell phone!”
Mrs. Candy flushed crimson. She seemed flustered. We watched her wring her hands together in embarrassment.
“Marty,” she squeaked. “I-I had no idea you worked today. I didn’t see your car out in the alley.”
Marty leaned against the counter. He seemed amused.
“Oh,” he waved his hand. “I let Alicia borrow my car today. She needed to babysit her niece. I walked to work. At my age, it’s good to stay in shape. Ya know, lose a few pounds now and then. Now, what’s this I hear about hamburger rolls? I heard you back there. You know we don’t make them anymore. I can’t charge you for something we don’t have.”
Mrs. Candy looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She kept wringing her hands together. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.
“But-but-but, I didn’t know you were here!” She squeaked.
“Well,” Marty looked her in the eye. “My new associate here knows that we don’t make hamburger rolls anymore. Why demand them from her? I do see that one of the employees here accidentally put sugar on your cheese rolls instead of parmesan cheese. That I can fix. And, no, I cannot give you your money back because it wasn’t done on purpose.”
Marty then grabbed the container, threw it in the trash, and went to work on another order, whistling the whole time. A few minutes later, Mrs. Candy took her order and scuttled out of the restaurant. Marty shook his head.
“I’ll bet you five bucks that bitch runs around town telling everyone that it was my fault. That’s the thing about her, she’s a hypocritical Christian bitch. She can murder someone in cold blood because she doesn’t like him, then tell the judge a story that she was the victim. Women like her make me sick, always gossiping, hurting others, backstabbing, playing little pranks on people they hate. This woman calls herself a Christian.”
As Marty rambled on, I looked up, and to my surprise, saw Alicia walking towards the store with a four-year-old in tow. Upon entering the restaurant, she saw that Marty and I were standing together. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She told her niece to grab an ice cream cone out of the freezer. Alicia then stormed into the backroom, slamming the door behind her. I had a feeling Alicia and Mrs. Candy shared the same personality.
About a month later, I seemed to be getting the hang of this job. Everything was going great, and then something weird started to happen. At first it was odd little things like Alicia always being at the restaurant, even on her days off. Then she started bringing Mrs. Candy with her. The two always sat in the corner booth eating free pizza. One day, Alicia personally made Mrs. Candy hamburger rolls. When Marty came in later, Alicia yelled at him. The next thing he knew, he was in the back preparing free hamburger rolls for her and Mrs. Candy.
That same day, Marty posted the schedule before he left with Alicia. Taking a glance at it, I noticed I only worked one day that week, Friday, and I was scheduled for four hours washing dishes. I should have known something was wrong then, but I kept silent.
Making my way to the back room to hang up my apron and cap, I heard Jasmine and Parker talking in really fast whispers.
“Oh my god! I think it’s true! She has a crush on him! That’s what Alicia said!”
“That’s gross! What a slut! She must have slept with a hundred men if she would want to date Marty! What a piece of trash.”
I naturally assumed they were talking about some woman trying to steal Marty from Alicia, so being how the subject didn’t concern me, I walked right past them. I noticed they grew silent. Jasmine kept her eyes on the ground. Parker popped her gum, twirling her hair. After putting my uniform away and clocking out, I walked past them again to the kitchen. I then heard them giggle quite loudly. Then Parker whispered:
“Marty knows! He believes Alicia!”
“Oh my God!”
Rolling my eyes at their immature behavior, I headed out to my car. These girls were older than me and gossiping about someone they didn’t even know. So, some woman was trying to steal Marty from Alicia. All Alicia had to do was tell this woman that he was happily taken. Did she really have to gossip about it to those idiot co-workers? I guess so. Alicia may have been in her forties, but just from working with her I got the impression that she was permanently stuck in high school. How tragic. Jasmine and Parker’s high pitched giggling followed me out the door.
By that Friday, we had hired someone new: a boy my age named, Paul. Usually, when a manager hires a new person it should be a red flag. It’s a sign that someone is about to leave the company. I should have known, but it was my first job and I was still naïve.
When the dinner rush hit around seven o’clock, I found myself rushing towards a couple in the back of the restaurant. I had their lasagna. Placing it on the table, I noticed the husband had his head down as if he were embarrassed by something. His wife gave me a look.
“It’s about time. I ordered this ten minutes ago!” She waved her hands in annoyance. Her eyes flashed.
I inwardly sighed. I hated rush hour and the obnoxious customers that came with it.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. The kitchen is a little backed up at the moment.”
I had no idea why I was apologizing. Ten minutes was enough time to cook lasagna in the oven. The woman huffed, and dug into the pasta.
“I’ll be right back to replenish your breadsticks.”
I took the empty basket, rolled my eyes when they weren’t looking, and walked briskly back to the kitchen. Around me, patrons were asking for new pizzas on the buffet. They also wanted me to stock the salad bar. I told them that we were on it.
Rushing back to the kitchen for breadsticks, I heard Paul talking to Jasmine in the walk-in freezer.
“She’s cute. I would ask her out, but I’m torn on the rumors.”
Making my way to the freezer, I took the ready-made breadsticks from the shelf, placed them on a greased pan, and then popped them in the side oven. The side oven took approximately five minutes to cook an entrée. We used it for small items like breadsticks, cheese rolls and cinnamon rolls. We also used it for hamburger rolls--thanks to Mrs. Candy who coincidentally got them for free every time she walked into the restaurant with her nose in the air. That Avoy Baptist T-Shirt still stretched over her size 24 body.
Paul followed me from the freezer back into the kitchen. I noticed he had kept quiet when I walked in to grab the breadsticks. As I prepared the bread basket, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him giving me these looks of pity. I ignored him and kept with my task, until I heard screeching from the front counter.
“Marty! Marty! Marty!”
I turned around and saw the woman I had just helped slam her lasagna on the counter.
“This lasagna is frozen solid! You should fire whoever cooked it! I demand a refund and a free dinner! Is Alicia here? We’re good friends! In fact, she’s the one who said I should drop by tonight.”
I looked toward the woman in disgust. Beside me, Paul was starting to shake.
“I-I-I had no idea,” he whispered. “I thought it went in the side oven, instead of the large oven.”
He seemed shaken, as he continued to bite his lip over and over.
I glanced back at Marty. To my astonishment, he was refunding the customer’s money. The bitch was going on and on about possible food poisoning from biting into ice cold pasta. I sighed.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tried to comfort Paul. “You’re new. Plus, I doubt the customer will get food poisoning. I believe you have to actually swallow the food. Judging from her gesturing towards her plate, she spit the food out.”
Paul reached for a paper towel from the dispenser over the sink. Dabbing his eyes, he looked at me.
“You know, you’re a nice girl. I heard some…”
“Adrian!” Marty screamed from the front counter, interrupting Paul.
“Yes,” I called back.
I noticed the crazy customer glaring at me. Behind her, the dining room seemed to have grown silent. Marty placed his hands on his hips.
“Make me a lasagna, and this time put it in the large oven for ten minutes, not five. Also, put those breadsticks in a to-go box, and add a small salad!”
“Yes, sir!” I called back.
Grabbing a plastic box from underneath the prep-counter, I then turned to the oven and grabbed the breadsticks just as they came out. Behind me, Paul had scuttled off toward the walk-in freezer for a new lasagna package. I put on a pair of plastic gloves, grabbed a pair of tongs, and started placing the breadsticks in the box. After preparing a salad, I bundled up the order and headed toward the front counter. Paul had the lasagna in the large oven. As I made my way up front, I overheard Marty whispering to the customer.
“According to Alicia she has a crush on me. It’s disturbing. She wants to get rid of her. I mentioned the possibility of suing, but she hasn’t hit on me yet, so I cannot do anything about it. Alicia knows though. She says she can see it in her eyes.”
They grew silent as I approached them. Marty had his head down staring at the floor. The crabby customer gave me the stink eye as I handed her the food. She took it from me, and began searching through it.
“Where is my lasagna?” She snapped in that slow tone that adults use when they talk to animals, or rude people use when talking to the mentally challenged. “I also want two packages of house ranch, not regular ranch, and an extra container of pizza sauce for the breadsticks! Also, throw in some packages of parmesan cheese! Do I have to write it down for you?” She slowly shook her head.
I looked at her. She huffed and puffed like some vain peacock. I had a suspicion she hung out with not just Alicia, but also Mrs. Candy.
“The lasagna will be ready in about five minutes. I’ll run in the back for your ranch, cheese and sauce.”
I spun around and stalked back. I noticed Marty cowardly kept glancing at the floor. I heard the customer burst out laughing as I left.
“Marty! Seriously! I heard the way she said, ‘yes, sir’ to you a few moments ago! Tee-Hee! I met up with Alicia and Mrs. Candy for lunch yesterday when she was off work. They told me everything! Alicia cannot believe this girl is after her man! They also said that I should be mean to her when I came in today just to have fun. Oh, my god! It is fun! My husband, on the other hand, says not to make a scene. I told him to…”
I stumbled into the dishwashing room, the sounds of the crazy customer fading away. It felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I knew right then that Alicia was starting those rumors about me! But, why?
The next day I worked happened to be on a slow Tuesday night. It was my only scheduled day on the calendar. I had spent three days at home pondering what I had done wrong to piss Alicia off. I was a good employee. I always cleaned the dining room when the customer left. I stocked the freezer when the truck came. I made the food in a timely manner. I couldn’t figure it out.
When I walked into work that night around six, I headed straight for the schedule, and stared in shock as it sunk in. I had no hours for next week. Paul was standing nearby. He turned to look at me.
“Gee, Adrian! All of those hours! How on earth can you possibly work them all?” He sang out in a sarcastic voice. I heard Jasmine in the kitchen laughing along with him.
I was disgusted. Alicia had got to him, and he was stupid enough to believe her. At that time in my life I had no clue that I could sue Marty and Alicia for harassment. I was just a seventeen year old who really worked this job for fun. My father paid my car off long ago. It was only a thousand dollar ’82 Buick he bought at a junkyard. I think he knew my job wouldn’t last.
I rolled my eyes and ignored Paul. Grabbing a cleaning bucket, I stalked to the dining room. Might as well keep busy cleaning to pass the time.
As the four hours of my shift dwindled down, I purposely ignored Paul and Jasmine. They seemed to have become best friends in such a short amount of time. I continued to clean the front, replenish the salad bar, and sweep the floors. Occasionally Jasmine’s annoying laugh carried out to my ears. I suspected she wanted me to hear it. Finally, the night drew to a close. I had thirty minutes left on my shift. Returning to the kitchen, I heard Jasmine call my name. She was leaning against the prep-counter eating a pizza.
“Ain’t ya worried about your hours next week?” She asked while popping a piece in her mouth.
I shrugged. “Not really. When Alicia is ready to add me to the schedule, she will. I’ll call her tomorrow at work. I’m off.”
I’m guessing Jasmine heard the sarcasm in my voice. She polished off her pizza and threw the plate in the trash.
“I have an idea,” she purred. “Why don’t you call her now? She’s at home. I don’t think she’ll mind, I mean we call her all the time at home. She does need to know what her employees are doing. I think you need to confront her. Just yesterday she told everyone that she believes you weren’t cut out for the pizza business.”
I watched in disbelief as Jasmine reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of gum, popping it in her mouth. She began chewing loudly. Her eyes grew large as they swept over my face.
“Why would I want to call her?” I asked. I had an uneasy feeling something bad was about to happen.
Jasmine just rolled her heavily made-up eyes. “Oh, just do it! Ha Ha! She ain’t gonna kill ya! Just tell her that you’re wondering about your hours!”
Before I could say anything else, Jasmine walked over to the prep-counter, and grabbed the cordless phone. I found it funny that it was within reach. I had a feeling Jasmine had been planning this for awhile. She then punched in a few buttons and handed the phone to me.
“It’s ringing!” She giggled.
I pressed the phone to my ear. A few seconds later, Alicia’s raspy voice came through.
“Yeah, what’s wrong?”
I sighed. Might as well get this over with.
“Hey, Jasmine it’s me, Adrian.”
There was a long pause, and then she answered.
I looked up and saw Jasmine standing in front of me. Her eyes never left my face.
“I was looking over next week’s schedule and noticed I wasn’t on it. Am I going to get any hours this week?”
I heard Alicia pause, then some whispering in the background. Then she came back on the line. Her tone had changed to one who was clearly pissed off.
“Look. I heard from other people at the diner that you hate your job. You constantly talk bad about it. You’re always late to work, and then you make a snack first thing! Also, the other girls tell me you’re rude to the customers, you never clean the dining room. And, just yesterday, I learned that you were hitting on Paul!”
She continued on, but I had enough.
“Alicia, just who told you those things?”
I knew damn well that she was lying, or whoever told her those things about me was lying.
Another long pause from the opposite line, then Alicia announced quite rudely:
“That is none of your business! Now, hang up this phone. I’ll call you if we need you next week!”
Before I knew it, I heard the dial tone in my ear. I turned to Jasmine. She looked at me, eager to hear the gossip.
“So, what did she say? What did she say?”
She kept bouncing on her feet like a puppy whose master taunted him with snacks.
“Uh…” I trailed off. “She was so rude. She told me that it was none of my business when I asked her who was spreading those rumors about me.”
Jasmine gasped. Her eyes grew large. She placed on hand over her mouth. She giggled. Then she smiled.
“Whatever. She’s a bitch anyway. Don’t you agree?”
Once again, her eyes grew large as she looked me over. It was if the fate of her existence rested in my response.
I shrugged. “I guess.”
Jasmine smiled a Cheshire grin. It reminded me of the time an elderly Spanish man came into the diner and applied for the job. After he left, Jasmine announced that she didn’t want him working for the company. She then tore his application up and tossed it in the trash. Afterward, she placed her hand on her lips and said, “Whoopsie! I’m sorry. I guess we lost your application.”
I snapped from my daydream. Jasmine kept looking at me.
“Are you going to cry?” She asked in disbelief.
Huh? I looked back at her like she was crazy. Now that I think about it, she probably is.
“Um, no. I’m just looking at the clock. I have two minutes until I clock out. Can I go ahead and leave?”
Jasmine’s eyes grew dark. “No,” she spat out. She then giggled and walked off.
Five minutes later, I hung up my apron and hat, clocked out, and made sure the dining room looked presentable before leaving. On the way out of the diner, I saw Jasmine giggling to Paul, probably gossiping about my conversation with Alicia. When I got to my car, I noticed a folded up piece of paper stuck to the windshield. Taking it down, I opened it up, and read: WE DON’T WANT NO SLUTS AT MARTY’S PIZZA PLACE!
Are you kidding me? For the first time I wanted to call the police, but that would probably make Alicia fire me on the spot. She would make up some excuse to let me go once I got back to work. I reached for my car keys, and just as I was about to insert them in the slot, I noticed it was jammed full of toothpicks. Upon closer inspection, I saw toothpicks stuck in the rubber crevices of my car window. Brushing them away, I unlocked the door. I could have sworn I heard Jasmine’s laughter.
The next day, I received a phone call from Marty.
“Hello?” I asked. I had an uneasy feeling this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.
“Addie,” he drawled in that slow voice of his. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we had to take you off the schedule. It seems you didn’t want to come into work on Tuesday, and then when you did come in, you were late. I’m sorry, but it’s not working out.”
Before I could say anything in my defense, like how absurd his firing of me was, I heard the dial tone in my ear. I had no idea at the time that I could have sued him. He didn’t write me an official termination sheet. At that moment, everything sunk in. Alicia, Jasmine, Marty, Paul, even Parker, they were all in on this! It was planned from day one. Alicia felt threatened by me, and wanted me out of the place. She started those rumors in hopes that I would quit. When I didn’t, she resulted to childish behavior.
Later I learned that Alicia held a meeting. She handed out packets of rules and behaviors for Marty’s Pizza Palace. Rule number one stated: All gossipers will be fired. She had the nerve to tell everyone that Marty fired me because I gossiped about the others.
A few months later, I returned to Marty’s for my tax records. Neither Marty nor Alicia said one word to me. Jasmine looked like she was going to cry when she handed over the papers. Behind the counter, Paul kept to himself sweeping the floor. He looked to be in a daze.
When I returned to school on Monday, I saw Parker outside picking up her little sister. She said, “hello” to me. After a long pause, she told me just what happened after Marty fired me. Over the following weeks, Alicia confessed to everyone that she started the rumors. Paul became upset because he wanted to date me, but believed the rumors. Then it hit him that he had fallen for her stupidity.
One day the lasagna lady’s husband came up to the restaurant looking for me. He wanted to personally apologize for his wife. When he found out that I had been fired, he became upset and yelled at Alicia, calling her a “gossip” and “no good.”
I felt amazing knowing that karma had befallen Alicia and Marty. It was also nice knowing that the other girls felt stupid knowing that they were tricked by Alicia. Poor Paul. It would have never worked between us. I found him boring and tedious.
As the years passed, Marty’s Pizza went under. New pizza parlors opened up. They came with free delivery and cleaner tables. Alicia was always one for competition. She forced Marty to buy new furniture, paint the walls, and become the official delivery driver. About a year later, they went bankrupt. Last I heard, the place had been sold, and the ovens transferred to the competition across the street. Marty’s Fantastic Pizza Palace is now a used car lot run by a man who actually has a degree in business. They make more money in a week than Marty made in a month. Oh, speaking of Marty, he finally left Alicia when he caught her in bed with the competition.