The Great Chinese Take Out Caper

Well, I am back at the grind after two days off. You know, for the record I was only supposed to be here two days. They keep on saying, we’ll get another night person , we promise.

Hmmm.

My grandson’s tenth birthday was today and for the big one I decided to throw him a birthday party at a movie theater. They have the party room, it’s reasonably price and it was Captain Marvel. It was a nice experience for him, but never will I do that again. What was I thinking. Nine kids in a theater, keeping them quiet and good. Not happening easily.

So, I went into this evening thinking, I am gonna have to ramble about my day, which I did, because I thought nothing was going to happen. I was wrong.

The last day I worked, was the day of the laundry room ladies and the creaming legs. Mack, as I told you usually stumbled around, sounding inebriated. Although I am not convinced he actually is drunk, I think he’s a good actor and acts that way to cover up for what he thinks are short comings in his personality. But he’s really nice.

Anyhow, the last day I worked, he stumbled into the laundry, room, swayed to the left and right, as if he were on a tight rope, reached in his walled and pulled out a twenty.

You’re probably thinking, ‘whoa, now, what’s that for?’

“When you working next?” he asked.

“Sunday.”

“Here,” he slaps down the twenty. “Can you pick us up Chinese again.”

He asks me all the time and pays for my combo meal, and since I live near several Chinese restaurants, I don’t have a problem with it.

I remembered to get the food, packed it in the brown bag and then in one of those thermal bags from Aldis, and came to work tonight. Mack usually dwells in the lobby after eleven thirty and a night out of drinking.

“I’m ready for that Chinese,” he said.

“Absolutely.” I go back into the employee break room and look ... gone.

I check the fridge, check under the table. Everywhere ... the blue and red thermal bag is gone.

Not there.

I then move to the front desk area and begin my search. Finally, I had to break down and tell Mack. “Our dinner is gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“Gone. It was on the employee break room table in the red and blue bag I carry and now it’s not.”

“Are you kidding me?” Mack blasts. “I have been waiting for that all day and someone took it?”

“Gone,” I repeated. “Somewhere in the last hour it vanished.”

I wasn’t too happy either. That was my lunch, too, which meant I was left to eat crackers and cookies from the vending machine.

Seeing that I am the only employee, reasonable deduction meant it was a guest. The break room door is always open and I was sure the aroma of Chinese food was inviting.

Mack wasn’t taking this laying down. He asked me to pull up the security footage. We don’t have a camera angle of the break room, just the hall. And still no angle of someone going in there.

We watched the cameras making note of the eight or so people that meandered through the lobby.

“Yeah, I bet it’s freaking Bill”, he said (And for the record e didn’t use the word ‘freakin’)

“Even if you think it’s Bill…”

“Oh, it is. That bastard stole six muffins the other day from the break room. Ask Marcia.’

I didn’t need to actually. Marcia was right there, boobs in her walker

“He did. I saw him,” Marcia said. “I yelled. He didn’t listen. It was six, maybe seven, the man steals food all the time.”

Before I could say any more, Mack stormed down to Bill’s room, pounding relentlessly on the door.

My first thought, ‘Oh my God.” I raced to stop him.

Bill opened the door. “What?”

“Did you take my food.”

Bill slammed the door.

Mack knocked again, louder and shouting, “Let me check that room. I know you took. Bet you’re afraid because you have every muffin in the place in that room.”

Bill, opened the door again. “I didn’t steal your freaking food.”

Slam.

Okay. Mack didn’t buy it, but he wasn’t giving up. He proceeded to knock on doors, trying to serve up his own verbal search warrant.

I tried to pull him away, apologizing to the current recipient of his food search wrath. Just when I think I have it under control. Who do I see at the end of the hall?

The cops.

One of the guests called them.

They tried to calm Mack,. But he was irate, he wanted his food, so they suggested they take a little ride.

Poor Mack, all he wanted was Chinese food and there he was being escorted out of the hotel.

I sat for a couple hours, feeling bad, thinking about how I’d go get him Chinese food the next night. I went to the vending machine, and looked. I saw the Sun Chips, thought about getting those and thought, “nah, I’ve seen enough of them they’re all over the back seat of my car.’

STOP.

SHIT.

No! I was not that dumb. Immediately, I ran out to my car and sure enough, sitting right there on the front seat of my Subaru was the Red and Blue thermal bag of Chinese food.

I carried it in, put it open the break room table, feeling even worse, thinking do I tell him, not tell him, and what was when Mack returned. The police brought him back.

“How are you?” I asked trying to escape that break room. But he just walked in.

“Fine. No charges. They understood. We went to McDonald’s, and they brought me back and ... heeeeyyy.” He pointed. “Is that the Chinese food in that bag?”

“Yeah, how about that?” I said. “After you left, I guess the person felt bad and brought it back. I didn’t see who it was. It just appeared. It’s not touched. It’s all good.”

Mack walked in, opened the bag and grabbed his Chicken and Broccoli. He lifted the lid and took a piece. “Ah, this is awesome, all that trouble was worth it now.”

I just smiled my agreement.

He took his food and went to his room, and me? Well, a tad shamed, I wrote this blog. Hopefully, he’ll never read it, because I’m never telling. I like that he pays for the Chinese take out.