The Staircase of Dragon Jerico
Chapter Four
“A SIX-AND-A-HALF-DOLLAR TIP!” Erin exclaimed to Bruce at dinner. “I mean when four guys sit at the table and all order lunch, it’s a miracle if they tip five.”
“That’s disgusting,” Bruce said. “Um… How much should they tip?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to tip a waitress! Standard is between eighteen and twenty percent. If you have a ten-dollar meal, it’s nice to tip two dollars,” Erin said. “So, if the total bill is forty for four guys, they should tip eight dollars.”
“It seems like that adds a lot to the bill,” Bruce said.
“Well, if wait people were subject to minimum wage, tipping wouldn’t be so critical. It dates back to the days when people were just hired off the street to do an errand and the boss gave them a little something for their effort. It was never supposed to be a job title. I make eight dollars an hour. So, even with my six-and-a-half-dollar tip, I’d come up short of the fifteen-dollar minimum wage.”
“Well, if they paid food servers minimum wage, hamburgers would cost twenty dollars.”
“Bruce, I can’t believe you can spout that nonsense. I talked to Dolores about this and she’s working the numbers for what the real difference would be if she raised everyone to minimum wage. There’s this chain of drive-ins up in Washington that gives all its employees a minimum of $19 per hour. They get free health care, three weeks paid vacation, 50% 401k match and $9,000 for tuition and childcare. There isn’t anything on their menu that’s more than $5. Their basic burger costs $1.80.”
“Well, they have to make up the wages somehow,” Bruce insisted.
“Yeah. They raised their prices this year to afford the pay increase and supply chain increases. Their deluxe burger went up by twenty-five cents.”
“I bet people still complained.”
“Here’s a riddle for you. Three guys go to a restaurant and their check comes out to $25. They each toss in a $10-bill for a $5 tip. The owner realizes the check was miscalculated and should only be $20. So, he gives the waitress $5 to return to the customers. The waitress is greedy, though, and only gives each of the men $1. She keeps the other $2 for herself. Now each of the customers has contributed $9 and the waitress kept $2. Nine times three is twenty-seven, plus two is twenty-nine. Where did the other dollar go?”
“That doesn’t sound…” Bruce shook his head and went back to the previous subject. “Why do we constantly hear about how much prices will increase if minimum wage increases?”
“Because if the lowest paid worker gets a doubled salary, from $7.50 to $15.00 an hour, the president of the company gets a triple increase from $250,000 to $750,000 a year. It’s not the workers who drive prices up!”
“Um… Weren’t you on a fast track to become one of those high-paid executives?”
“Am I still there?” Erin asked. “Allard paid everyone in the company a fair wage, and that included executives. They set a limit on how much more an executive could be paid than an hourly employee. I was on track to earning a great wage, but I wasn’t going to be an obscenely paid president who earns a hundred times what a regular employee does. There is no business brain that is worth that much. They’re criminal brains. For every high-paid executive in the United States, there is another person who could do just as good a job for less than half the price.”
“Well, please don’t start capping wages at my company before I get mine up to where it will support our family.”
“As if I would go to work for your company,” Erin sighed. “As soon as we’re stable, I’ll have all I want at home with the children and cooking for my husband.”
“Your husband wishes he was home for more meals,” Bruce said. “I didn’t realize how much more than just full time it was going to be to manage a project like this. I’m going to be in St. Louis most of the week next week. I have meetings with the client and with the construction teams.”
“Just remember, no matter what kind of meals you get on your per diem, they won’t compare to what you could have waiting right here at home.”
“Not to mention all the side benefits,” Bruce said, reaching for his wife. She gladly came into his arms.
Erin enjoyed working at the diner. It was a completely different kind of stress than what she’d been used to in corporate management. It was especially nice during those weeks when Bruce was out of town managing his project. She got together with other employees occasionally. She met new people. She explored her town. Still, she missed her husband. They spoke every night before bed and she envied the excitement of his job just a little.
But she was counting the days until she felt she could go off birth control and be ready to start their family. She finally decided that if she went off at Thanksgiving, she and Bruce could spend the Christmas holiday playing ‘Let’s make a baby.’
She’d acquired her own small contingent of customers at the diner who wanted to sit at one of her tables, just as many of the other waitresses had. One of them was her Thursday regular, Jerry. He was a very low-key guy who always kept his head and face covered. As they’d gotten to know each other, he’d become more comfortable talking to her, though. She seldom noticed his hesitation.
Maizie always greeted him when he came in and had ‘his’ table ready for him. She checked to be sure the menu was wiped clean with a disinfectant wipe before handing it to him. She didn’t mind providing a little extra care for him since he was always so generous with her.
The Thursday Blue Plate Special changed every week. She could pretty much bet that Jerry would order it, no matter what was on the menu. Each was priced at $9.95. With coffee and taxes, that came to $13.45. And Jerry always left her a twenty to cover the meal and tip.
She greeted him by name and tried to be pleasant, no matter what was happening that day. She’d even started giving other customers the extra service of a freshly disinfected menu, handled their plates and flatware with a clean cloth rather than her hands, and tried to be bright and friendly with her conversation.
“Tell me about the special today,” Jerry said when he was seated.
“I haven’t eaten yet, but I sampled what the cook has back there. A lot of people don’t eat pork because they think it’s too fatty, but the cook’s pork loin is lean and flavorful. He could have gone all traditional and just served mashed potatoes, but he put together a mushroom risotto that is unbelievable. He’s suggesting the green salad with the meal today because he says cooked vegetables just won’t stand up to the rich flavors of the pork and risotto.”
“Wow! Your chef is a real gourmet! I’ll have that special.”
As far as Erin was concerned, the cook was very good, but she made up the descriptions. Her fellow waitresses would listen to her tell about the special and use the exact same words for their customers. As a result, sales of the Blue Plate Special were going up.
“Jerry, the cook made an apple crisp dessert today. I confess, I tried it and it’s really scrumptious,” Erin said at the end of his meal. “Can I bring you a piece? On the house.”
“That would be lovely, Maizie. I think I’ll need another cup of coffee to go with it,” he answered. She smiled at him and hurried to get his dessert. She wrote herself a bill for three-fifty for the crisp. It was just a little extra she could do for her favorite customer.
She wasn’t terribly surprised to find an extra five tucked beneath the twenty he usually left.
“My financial controller gave me a nice compliment today,” Bruce said at dinner. “We’re working closely on managing the expenses on this project. She reminds me a lot of you as far as her business sense goes.”
“Oh? Is she reminding you of me in other ways?” Erin teased.
“Don’t be silly! She’s… Well, I guess she’s about our age. Redhead. And most importantly, married to the president of the company. I treat her nicely and he comes around to compliment my work occasionally.”
“So, what was her compliment today?” Erin asked.
“Just that she appreciated the work I’d done to get the numbers ready for our trip to St. Louis Monday. She’s suspicious that the client is not being up front about their financial condition. They’re thirty days late on their payments.”
“I hope that doesn’t negatively affect your project,” Erin said with a trace of concern. She knew all too well how the supply chain worked.
“No, we’ll get it worked out. I’m flattered that she wants me beside her when she meets with Mackenzie. It looks like we’ll be working more closely together over the next few weeks.”
“Just don’t work too closely together, okay?”
By Thanksgiving, Maizie’s friendly attitude and attentive service had built her a following of loyal customers at the diner. More and more regulars wanted to sit in her section, but she made sure to reserve the corner booth on Thursday for Jerry.
Of course, the diner was closed on Thanksgiving and Erin fixed a full Thanksgiving dinner for her and Bruce. She tried to control the portions that she cooked, but even a small turkey is a lot for two people. She and Bruce ate turkey all weekend and she still had enough remaining to make a big kettle of soup that would supplement their meals until Christmas.
For the first time in a long time, they had a long weekend to just be together without running to the office or the diner. Erin felt they were renewing their relationship all weekend and was happy to have her husband paying attention to her and not to his project in St. Louis. Or to his financial controller.
She admitted to being a little jealous of the redhead she’d never met. She’d love to travel to St. Louis every other week with her husband. The Thanksgiving weekend put those thoughts to rest, though, as they went shopping for a Christmas tree and decorated their little home for the holiday. They even got lights that Bruce hung on the eaves, while Erin held his ladder steady.
Monday, of course, things were back to the same hectic schedule. If Bruce wasn’t traveling, it seemed he was working late night after night.
Maizie was just preparing Jerry’s booth on Thursday after Thanksgiving when two guys in business suits came into the diner and headed straight to the corner booth.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I already have a customer for this booth,” she said pleasantly.
“There’s no one here,” one of the guys said.
“There will be as soon as I finish wiping it down.”
“We’ll take it.”
Erin was not normally hard to get along with. She was flexible in most things, but she was loyal to her loyal customers. Something about the attitude of these guys just put her off. It was an attitude she’d learned to hate during her ten years in corporate politics that indicated these men felt they were entitled to whatever they wanted and no one could stand in their way. They were about to find out differently.
“I said no,” she responded. “I have a customer for this booth.”
“We’re here first.”
“That doesn’t really make a difference. I serve this table and if you insist on sitting here, you won’t have any service. I have a customer.”
“Where?”
“He’s waiting politely by the register.”
The men turned to see a fellow in a hoodie sweatshirt, sunglasses, and a mask.
“You’re saving a place for a homeless guy who shouldn’t be seen in public?”
“He’s my regular.”
“Where’s your manager, girl? We’ll see about this. Call your manager.”
“Certainly, Karen,” Erin said.
“Bitch!”
“Dolores? Could you re-seat these gentlemen, please?” she called.
“Sure. I’m sorry, you arrived at the wrong time to have this booth.”
“You need to fire this bitch,” the man said. “You’re losing paying customers because she’s a woke bleeding heart with a homeless guy.”
“To my knowledge, that man has never failed to pay for his meal, nor has he stiffed a waitress. I seem to recall the last time you gentlemen were here that you left a quarter tip for a thirty-dollar tab. No one in the diner wants to wait on you.”
“She was a lousy waitress. I had to ask twice for coffee. She’s lucky she got two bits without spreading her legs.”
“Get out of my restaurant and don’t come back,” Dolores snarled, pointing toward the door. All the waitresses and the kitchen help moved to Dolores’s side. Faced with the wall of disapproval, the men moved toward the door.
“Who needs this greasy spoon? Once people read our reviews on Good Eats, you’ll be lucky if even the homeless come to beg for scraps.”
They left and the diner returned to its normal bustle. Jerry made his way to the table as Erin wiped his menu with a disinfectant wipe.
“You… um… didn’t need to… uh… do that,” he said as Erin motioned him to his seat.
“Jerry, I don’t believe you are either homeless or particularly poor. But even if you were, I’d still save this table for you and treat you with the same respect. Those men were disgusting and if they proved to be the Jerico himself, I’d have treated them the same way. For all I know, one of them was!” Erin giggled. “Now, we have a magnificent country fried steak for the special today that I know you’ll like. Want that?”
“Yes, thank you, Maizie. Thank you.”
“I’m not usually such a demanding bitch,” Erin confided in a whisper. “My system’s all crazy at the moment. I miss my husband.”
Jerry stared at Erin and both snorted a laugh.
Preston was a bit distracted when he met with his Grandfather Friday afternoon. They sat in the meeting area between their desks, drinking coffee and going over the plans for the new development. But Preston’s mind was on the waitress at the Top Knot Diner.
Of course, just because Maizie was nice to him and was easy to talk to didn’t make her a possible date. For one thing, she wore a wedding ring and Preston would never consider going out with a married woman.
What he needed was a woman like that who was actually available to suddenly drop into his life and take it over.
As he talked with his grandfather, he absently worked a Rubik’s Cube, turning the colors this way and that as they gradually fell into place. It was one of the things he did to control his anxiety and focus his thoughts. There were cubes lying all over the penthouse in every size from 3x3x3 to 7x7x7. No one spoke to Preston if he was working a 7x7x7 puzzle. It was a sure sign he didn’t want to be disturbed.
“We have just the one holdout,” Lawrence said. “I know you wanted the whole piece before we announce the project, but I think you should prepare to launch the plan anyway.”
“Who owns it?”
“A consortium out of St. Louis. I believe word of the project leaked somehow. It was purchased after we started putting offers out on the big blocks of land. We’ll get the property, but it will be at a premium once development of the other parcels has begun,” Lawrence said.
“How could word get out?” Preston puzzled. “Do we know who is in this consortium?”
“A couple of smaller developers and a recreational property developer. Probably some wealthy individuals backing them.”
“We certainly don’t want them to start developing something before we put our stamp on the area. Can you imagine what a glass and steel monstrosity would look like compared to our planned community?”
“We’ve kept the nature of our interest well-concealed. Our Interlake Holding Company is listed as an agricultural development company. But we’ve had to make inquiries with the county regarding development in order to make sure it was a sound investment. Those records are open to the public.”
The two men got up from the sofa and moved to the central conference table. It was seldom used for conferences. For the past few months, it was the staging area for Preston’s planned community. He’d downloaded the topo maps from the USGS and fed them into a 3-D rendering program. He’d used this to send each portion to his 3-D printer and assemble a scale model of the entire development site. It was almost like being on site.
They walked around the 3D map on the table and Mrs. Armstrong jumped up with a notepad. She was used to having them simply ignore her until they needed something and then she had better be ready.
The problem of developing without the holdout parcel was that it was where he’d intended the entrance to Cloudhaven to be. The bite out of that section would move the entrance nearly half a mile toward the lake and make the property more U-shaped than consolidated.
He wanted that piece of property, but he would have to trust his grandfather to force the sale. He’d go ahead and plan the development as if it were a fait accompli.
It was curious that word of the project had leaked far enough that a competitor could jump on it. The property acquisition was not done through JeriCorp. They had leveraged nearly every penny of the family fortune to acquire the property themselves as Interlake Holding Company. Three sections of lakefront, missing a single bite of 160 acres. Lawrence and Jacqueline had put their trust in him when he planned the project. He owed it to them and to the Jerico name to make it successful.
Not that he was a Jerico. His mother had married Lyle Carver, his father. Why she didn’t revert to her maiden name when she divorced was a mystery to Preston, but he bore the Carver surname with Jerico as his middle name. It was the name he used at the diner, though no one knew that Jerry was short for Jerico.
Regardless, it was time Preston started platting the new community and designing the buildings that would make it a destination resort.
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