Job's Trials

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When has he had enough?
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cpete
cpete
1,711 Followers

Again special thanks to Editor Dave T, who for reasons, only God knows, continues 'the-root-canal- without-anesthetic 'like experience of trying to make my chicken scratch resemble something readable. All and any errors are mine.

++++

"Seriously? You are firing me? You have got to be kidding."

My soon to be ex-boss was sweating a bit around the bald spot on his head as he stared at my wife Mary and me in the back office of his restaurant.

"Job, look I am sorry, but business is business. I am confident traffic will pick up once more word gets around about Chef H.P. Charles."

I was still in a state of shock. "Oh so I see now. You are letting me go so you can keep that fool in the Kitchen."

My boss raised his hands in a hapless gesture. "Chef H.P. Charles is like my star player. We all know Chefs are the Rock Stars that bring clients into the restaurant today. I had to cut someplace."

I could not hide the disgust in my voice. "You act like ole Charley is Gordon Ramsey or Wolfgang Puck."

Mary gripped my hand. "Well Job, he did have his own cooking show..."

"You mean that reality show flop," I interrupted "that did not even last a full season on the internet."

My boss got flustered as he defended his money hole. "Chef H.P. Charles show had a nice following..."

"And a cook book" my wife added.

"Wonderful." I said dryly "Dr. Seuss had a cookbook too. I do not see many patrons filling our tables to order the famous Green Eggs and Ham."

The boss held out an envelope to me. "When Chef H.P. turns this around we can look at maybe bringing you back. Chef HP Charles has talent. Hiring him is the most foolproof way I know to bring in a new base."

I shook my head. "Nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool."

He winced. "I know this is hard, but I bumped up Mary's rate a bit to help."

Mary my wife squeezed my hand as I took the final paycheck. Married for all of 6 years she was the assistant Chef in the restaurant we both worked at, or rather had both worked at. The owner was a pudgy trust fund baby who liked to watch cooking shows and figured he would open and run a restaurant. In reality he could not run up a flight of stairs, let alone a restaurant.

Mary in all truth was the heart of the kitchen. She had always wanted to be a big time Chef. Mary had worked her way up through a series of eating establishments working in the Industry since she was 16. However to rise in restaurants in today's market, you needed the star power of a known Chef in your kitchen. Mary's single mom could never afford any of the cooking schools, either here or abroad that seemed to groom todays "Rock Star" cooks.

I tried to help out. All our vacations were "working vacations". A dairy and cheese seminar in Wisconsin, wine methods and matters in Napa valley, seafood from net to plate techniques in Maine. Even our honeymoon was spent tramping through olive gardens in Italy learning about virgin, extra virgin and dozens of grades of olive oil. Not that I am complaining, the grub from these events had me fighting to keep my waist size constant.

Mary on the other hand never seemed to gain an ounce, a rarity in most any Chef. Mostly it was a combination of her metabolism and fanatical workout schedule. I know Mary had a secret fantasy of hosting her own cooking show and did not want to be the "fat" female chef. So she always kept herself in shape for that magic phone call, which so far had not come.

Again, I am not complaining her metabolism and workout routine were a bonus to me. Many would say Mary was average in looks; if that were true I would take average and regular with Mary any day and twice on Sunday. Which coincidentally was about the frequency of our love life. Again I am not complaining with neither frequency nor quality.

Mary squeezed my hand as I accepted my final paycheck while the Boss continued "Job, you will bring Pablo up to speed on everything won't you?"

I was about to tell him to Fuck Off. The nerve of this rich prick not only replacing me with a exploited low cost illegal, but wanting me to train him to be my replacement.

I sat back in the chair. "You want I have Pablo handle the waitresses and kitchen help that ole Chef Charley keeps banging two at a time. You do know that is just a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen."

My soon to be Ex boss waved his hand. "This is the restaurant biz. Passions run high."

I bit my tongue as Mary spoke "Don't worry, I will handle Chef H.P. He is pretty much all talk, just trying to impress the kitchen staff. If he had done a quarter of what he claimed, this place would not have a single female on staff."

Mary squeezed my hand again to stop me from talking as she pulled me up out of my chair.

+++++

The ride home was animated.

"I really thought Pablo was gonna walk out," Mary said tuning the car radio to my favorite station.

I had to suppress a grin at Mary's action, as the selection of music was a daily battle for us. A truce was reached were I got my station on the drive into work and she got the trip home. Mary giving me her "turn" was a major concession.

"Pablo is a very proud man and protective of his friends and family," I replied.

Everyone knew Pablo's story. He had fled a violence-filled drug town in Central America with his wife and two small children. Trekking all the way to the border, he had fought off gangs, and predators, and led a small band to safety after the smugglers had left the group to perish in the desert with no water.

I rubbed my eyes before continuing. "That asswipe of a boss really boxed me in. He knows I can't let the restaurant fail because all we have is one paycheck now and he also knows I won't screw over Pablo."

Mary shook her head. "Pablo is the hardest working guy there. If he left, every one of the kitchen staff would follow him. He is like the Godfather of that back room. I am glad you convinced him you would be fine and everyone needed the job for their family. Especially Pablo, his wife is expecting again. Now Job, I know you will land on your feet, you are the best prep chef around."

For those of you not in the "biz", if the Chef is the heart of the kitchen, the prep chef is the "brains". The prep chef makes sure everything from salads to chopped onions are ready to go. The Prep Chef makes sure the Head Chefs order of fresh seafood is really "fresh", quality is what was received from suppliers, and all the ingredients are in stock as needed. Just as any Army is only as good as its NCOs, any restaurant is only as good as its prep chefs.

"Well Mary, I am not worried about Pablo because I am not married to Pablo. I am worried about you, because I am married to you."

Mary gave me a light punch on my shoulder. "Don't tell me you are jealous of Chef H.P. Charles!" She laughed "He is a blowhard, but Chef H.P. Charles does have some chops. Do you know the school he went to in France? The people he knows? Places he has been to? "

I made a gagging sound. "Oh please Mary that fry cook is a poser and you run rings around him. Also, please stop calling that fool 'Chef', like he has a Doctorate in medicine and cures cancer in babies."

Mary sighed as she spoke. "I know you do not care for H.P. but I could learn a lot from him."

Again I made gagging sounds. "You must enlighten me on some pearls of his wisdom. This is a man who asked why there is an expiration date on sour cream."

"Job, be nice. We both know Chef H.P. Charles is a narcissist. But you have to be to get to where he is. It is like a disease with him."

"Great, everything that used to be a sin is now a disease. One nice thing about egotists: they don't talk about other people."

Mary ignored me and continued. "For example he told me I should go by 'T Mary II' not just plain Mary."

I shook my head. "T Mary II? Sounds like a drywall bolt from the hardware store or a new robot in the Terminator movie."

Mary punched me in the shoulder again. "Job, you know darn well my first name is Theresa. Mary is my middle name and everyone called me Mary so not be confused with my mom. Besides Mary is such a common boring name."

I suppose ole Charley told you that."

Mary shrugged. "You know how everyone gabs in the kitchen when it is not busy."

"Yes, the kitchen, or restaurant for that matter, has not been very busy. Where are the throngs of hungry followers' ole Charley was going to bring in?"

Mary sighed before answering. "Well, our catering has picked up."

"Mary, the catering side was starting to thrive before his highness H.P. Charles come onto the scene to hog all the credit. We both know catering only took off due to your food and Pablo and his crew busting their ass making everything work. The trouble with doing something right the first time is that nobody appreciates how difficult it was."

I played my trump card. "Let's look at this as an opportunity. Screw all of them. Ever since the day you started watching Julia Childs on PBS TV you have wanted to attend a fancy cooking school. Let's ditch that McMansion and your status Lexus and have you go to the school of your dreams."

Mary was biting her lip. "Job, did you hit the lottery and not tell me? Last I checked our bank account was looking low."

"Mary, I'll cash out my retirement account, we'll take a student loan, whatever it takes. This is an investment in you, in us."

"You wanna go to school too?"

"Hell No! This is your dream I wanna make true. You know I can always find something to do, carpentry, plumbing, I'll work at a Paris McDonalds if I have to."

Mary was still chewing her lip deep in thought, but did not answer.

++++

Well I was wrong. Turns out you can be the best prep chef on earth, but if there are no openings; you better find something else to do. This was not really a problem, my parents had drummed into me from an early age that there was always work for someone willing to work. Even today I can hear my fathers voice :

"Son, there are two types of people in the world. Those that work and contribute, and those that suck off the work of others. There is no job, no work that is beneath you...except maybe a member of Congress. Them damn bloodsuckers are the worst kind of parasites on any society."

His words had a twinge of irony as both he and my mother were later killed in an auto accident by the drunk son of our Congressmen. Naturally in the ways of the world the Congressman's drunk son got off with a misdemeanor and reckless driving when the blood results and resulting paperwork somehow went missing. Of course it was probation with some community service and no jail time. The insurance payout barely covered the funeral expenses. Coincidently the next year a federal grant came through that provided new squad cars for the township Police Department as well as renovation of the courthouse and judges' chambers.

So anyway I did what I did best and hustled for any task that paid. Delivery of lost luggage from the airport, pizza delivery, clean up after the county fair, whatever; if it paid, I did it.

When I was not hustling for a dollar, I was working on the house. A McMansion we picked up in a distressed foreclosure sale, this was a monster that Mary "just had to have" and was the proverbial money pit. It seemed I was rebuilding the damn place from the ground up. After adding in what we paid and what we had spent so far, I think maybe we were breaking even. Looking at the work to be done left me wondering if we were ever going to get our money out of the place.

I kept these concerns to myself as Mary was really stressed out at the restaurant. The past 10 months since I had been booted had not been good. I know she was really trying, even using the ridiculous name T Mary II in an attempt to stir up business. Many times Mary came home almost in tears.

"Damn it Job, I do not know how much of this I can take. Another waitress quit today."

I shook my head and Mary scowled at me "Yes, I know you warned me about Chef H P Charles, but it has gotten worse since HP Charles took over the food inventory from Pablo. That idiot keeps ordering wrong crap and the vendors are ripping us off left and right. We ran out of salt last night for Gods sake. How the hell does a restaurant run out of salt?"

I tried to be sympathic, but had to bite my tongue and not say "I told you so."

Mary was on a venting roll. "I am just getting so sick of playing little Miss Diplomat in that place."

"Mary, diplomacy is saying "nice doggy" until you find a big enough rock."

Mary kept on as if I had not spoken. "Plus that damn Italian car of HP Charles is always in the shop and he thinks I am his personal chauffer."

Now I shook my head. "What does ole Charley expect from a Fiat? Everyone knows Fiat stands for "Fix It Again Tony.'"

Mary kicked off her shoes. "I worry Pablo is gonna walk out every day."

"So Mary, Pablo and Charley still not playing nice?"

Mary gave me a dirty look "Ever since HP tried hitting on that new cute young Hispanic dishwasher and Pablo put a knife to Chef HP Charles groin it has been like Jets and Sharks in the kitchen."

I could not help laughing "Did Charley really think Pablo was gonna put up with him perving on his goddaughter?"

Mary threw up her hands. "It is not all HP Charles fault, half the Hispanic community in this town is Pablo's goddaughter."

"Gee, Mary, you think maybe ole Charley could keep his hands in the kitchen and maybe leave the barely legal help alone?"

"Job, he is under a lot of stress. Even our catering business has taken a hit."

I was surprised at that bit of info. "Really? I thought that was the one jewel still shining."

Mary made a face before answering. "It was. Then we started getting complains about Chef HP Charles at the events. Seems the hosts did not care for him walking around mingling with the guests. Apparently what works with patrons sitting at the tables in our building, is not a great idea at a catered event."

"Ole Chaley must have been thrilled at that news."

Mary gave me that look that ever husband knows. "Job, stop it please. I am having a hard enough time as it is."

I rubbed her back. "Mary look, ole Charley has a multi-year contract, so he is not going anywhere. You on the other hand should cut your losses and get out." I turned Mary around to face me. "I know you have the application for that cooking school in Paris in a folder on your laptop. You are not some 17 year old gofer in the backroom of a chop shop anymore. You can hold you own with the best of any Chef. Pull the trigger, you know I got your back."

In answer Mary hugged me tight. But I never got a 'Yes'.

++++++

A few weeks later I was plastering the guest room when my phone rang.

"Job, this is Pablo. I need favor from you."

"Sure Pablo, what can I do for you?" I answered as I wiped off my hands.

In heavily accented English Pablo said "We at a catering job, but left a tub of prep at the restaurant. I know you still got key. Can you bring it here? I make sure you get paid."

"Pablo, those are the magic words. What is the address?"

"Job, I text you the address. Just bring it to the truck OK?"

++++

It was the middle of the afternoon when I got to the place, and the weather was just starting to turn cold.

"This was most likely the last outdoor catering event for a while," I thought as I carried the aluminum tray towards the step van parked in the driveway of upscale home.

The step van had a side window that allowed it to double as a food truck. For some reason all our workers were gathered around the step vans side window. A bunch of the guys were holding their cell phones to the one way glass.

"Que pasa, amigos? Where is Pablo at?"

The workers looked up in surprise, most uttered something in Spainish and they all started to slink away from the truck.

However it was me that got the surprise when I looked in through the window.

Chef HP Charles had Mary bent over the counter. Her lower half was completely naked and her oversize Chefs apron was flipped up over her back exposing a portion of her lower back.

HP Charles was thrusting vigorously into Marys' shapely ass as he butt fucked her. All the while slapping her bare buttocks with one hand and waving at the one way glass with the other hand. Ole Charley was also making faces at what he thought was his audience on the other side of the window.

"Take it all you bitch!" He yelled pumping into Mary. "You LOVE getting stuffed with my Grade A prime meat!"

I was stunned as if hit by a pole ax. My brain refused to see what images the eyes were sending. Any doubt about the anal recipient of HP Charles cock was dispelled when he grabbed Marys' hair and pulled her face off the counter, yanking Marys' head back as he ground deep circles into her ass with his groin when he bottomed out in her butt. Marys' eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily while moans through parted lips were punctuated by an occasional grunt as Charles thrusted his pelvis.

HP Charles addressed the window without stopping his ass fuck of my wife. "Get your cameras ready Amigos, here comes the big finish! Watch this slut is gonna take it on the face and then suck me clean!"

I pulled open the window. "Hey Charley, make sure to wash your hands when you are done with that cum dump. I hear the health inspector is gonna come around today."

HP stopped in mid stroke as Mary whipped her face around at the sound of my voice. She pulled frantically away, but it was too late. HP's dick made an audible "pop" as it come out of her asshole and started spurting on Mary's back, as well as on the prepared desserts on the truck counter.

I felt faint. "Mary, please don't bring any of your leftovers home this time. In fact please don't come home at all, EVER!"

Spinning on my heel I began a slow trot toward my car when I realized I was still holding the aluminum tray full of food prep. Passing HP Charles Fiat, I opened the door and dumped it all in his driver's side seat.

++++

I do not remember driving home, I do not remember opening the front door. I do not remember going outside onto the back porch or sitting in the chair. The next thing I can recall is a ringing phone and Pablo's voice.

"How long have you known Pablo?"

"Job, this is first I know of puta wife Mary. Crew tell me that Chef been bragging. Of course that man full of shit, no one believe him. Crew make fun of him. Chef claim today he put on a show to prove who is stud of kitchen. That is why I call you to come. If not true, no worry. I sorry it be true."

"I am sorry I threw away your prep tub Publo."

Publo let out a laugh. "Who cares? Puta wife Mary try to take Chef toy car and follow you. Fucking toy car no start. What kind of car not start because of sliced onions? Crew no give Mary ride, she finally call Uber car."

Just then I heard the front door open.

"Gotta go Pablo, looks like the chicken has come home to roost."

"Cut that bait Job. I got lots of nice Hispanic ladies for you. Smart as whips, hot as hell in bed, plus loyal to man and fierce as wild dogs around family."

"Thanks, Pablo, I'll keep that in mind." I said as I disconnected the call and Mary walked through the sliding glass door onto the back porch.

+++++

We stood staring at each other. Mary's makeup was a mess and her eyes were red. She moved her lips a few times but no words came out. I got bored with the staring contest and started to check the email on my smart phone. Seems like I had gotten quite a few messages in the past hour.

"JOB, LOOK AT ME!"

I sighed before looking up at her. "Yeah Mary? What am I supposed to be looking at? Because all I see is a cheating slut."

cpete
cpete
1,711 Followers