I worked in a large steak house chain during my freshman year in college as
the closing manager. It was steady work and not too challenging physically
or mentally. I loved many aspects of this job really only dreading
end-of-month because I found counting stock tedious and 10-keying
mind-numbingly repetitive. I'd often arrive 30 minutes before my shift, get
a cup of coffee, and spend the extra time chatting with the day crew on how
smoothly (or not) their shifts went; this would give me a general idea how
the evening was going to unfold.

On this day, as I opened the front door and entered the air conditioned
dining area, I was greeted by a group of customers standing with their backs
to me and every table full. I sighed and excused my way past the crush of
waiting customers to get to the back of house. So much for that preshift cup
o' joe.

It was confirmed beyond any doubt that it would be a very long evening as
the unit manager greeted me at the dishroom door with a haggard, "I've been
doin' grill. Carlos sliced his hand on the Hobart. He's okay, a dozen
stitches, but I've been stuck working grill all shift."

"And you've not pulled inventory or run the numbers." I finished.

"Bingo. Sorry 'bout that. You don't have to work the floor tonight if you
wanna get started."

Being young and dumb, I simply shrugged my best WB animation lollypop [/jpeg
sucker].

I looked around the prep area at the employees working. "¡Jose!"

The man, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, stopped his mixing a batch of
blue cheese dressing and looked over in my direction. "¡Patron! ¿Como es
usted?"

"¡Bueno, gracias amigo!"

Jose, at only 5'3" was one of those back of house employees you could ask to
do any work. He was built like a mini forklift, barrel-chested and broad
shouldered. The only thing showing his 54 years was the peppered goatee. If
asked a question, his answer was always the same, he'd shrug and say, "O.K."

"¿Tiene usted cualquier plan para esta noche?"

"No, patron."

"¿Puede trabajar usted esta noche?"

Jose smiled and shrugged with his usual, "O.K."

"I'm good. We'll finish in record time. I'll help out front now." And I didn't
again think of running the numbers until we closed the restaurant.

The dinner rush was long, one of the most difficult I could remember, and
filled with some really extreme customers. I heard several servers give
voice to the "full moon" complaint throughout the evening. By 10:00pm, we
said good night to the last customer, locked down every door, stacked the
chairs, washed the tables, and Jose and I headed into the walk-ins and
storage areas to start counting cases and cans, weighing loose and opened
stock, and reorganizing the shelves as we went along. Pretty soon it was
well-after midnight. The janitorial staff were in and out, the walls were
washed, tile flooring scrubbed, and bullpen hosed down. With the final tub
of salt weighed and our visual count ended I took my hand-written sheaf of
numbers to the office to quickly run them while Jose volunteered to autoperk
another pot of Mexican Black.

I was just finishing off the first page when Jose came screaming around the
corner and slammed the office door behind him panting and yammering some
unprintable strings of Spanish. He was wild-eyed. He parked his back to the
wall and pinned the door closed with his feet constantly yammering at me.

I'd been robbed once prior and it wasn't something I ever wanted to
experience again. I was freaked pretty badly. I was just able to dial 911.
As the two of us sat there leaning against the door, I tried to get him to
talk to me. All he'd do is shake his head and mutter while his body
shuddered uncontrollably. I managed to get him calmed down enough to
_finally_ stutter and stammer that he'd seen someone walk out of The Cage
(our storage garage in the back) and into the bathroom right near our
server's station. "Great; a robbery. That would cap a perfect shift," I
thought.

Within minutes, the local police had arrived and were banging on the glass
of the front door.

It was a physical challenge to pull Jose away from the floor in front of
that office door but I managed.

As I ran out of the office, I jumped the counter and slid across the
still-wet floor tile. I also [somehow] managed to find the key to the lock
and turn it but I was shaking like a leaf in a wind storm. As I opened the
door, I tattled like a 5-yo cranked on a speedball to the two officers.
Jose, unwilling to be left in the office alone, had also followed me out and
across the counter. We were immediately shooed out of the restaurant and
taken into custody in our parking lot where two more squad cars were pulling
up-and-into slots. The officers went through the whole place, each closet,
stall, walk-in and finally The Cage. We were both (Jose and I) still shaking
uncontrollably while the officers worked their way through the darkened
restaurant. A corporal had been the last officer to arrive and started
pulling the story, slowly, from Jose.

It seems Jose, while making that pot of coffee in the station, thought he
saw someone in the hall back by The Cage and got curious. He went to go
ask. As he entered the darkened hallway, this guy walked right out of the
restroom door (without opening said door) and looked right at Jose standing
there. Jose did the only thing he could think of and ran into my office.
Since my good looks and 5'8", 144 lb. body were such deterrents to violence,
he figured I'd save him.

Officers Ruiz stopped listening at "walked out of the door." Officers
Gonzalez, Remington, Smith and Wesson radioed an "all clear" signal and
pretty soon were back outside. The officers continued questioning us but
soon three of the five drifted off to finish their evening's patrol. I
invited Officers Smith and Wesson in for some coffee so they could do their
reports. The two politely accepted and we all headed back inside. Jose stuck
around to jabber at me some more as I finished my numbers and closed up the
restaurant.

The next day, the unit manager read my log entry and called me before I'd
made it out the door to school. He simply said, "I don't close this place
for a reason. Don't stay that late again."

The Ranger