Monday, February 20, 2012


     The summer I worked at Target and as a busser at Le Peep restaurant, my sister worked at a local eatery called Savory Fare.  A word about Savory Fare—its food was savory (Exhibit A, the cakes and desserts my sister brought home for me after her shift ended) but its owners were not.  According to my sister they were downright unpleasant.  Gaging by the stories she told I believe her.
     My favorite story is when they smacked a dead chicken on the counter for my sister to pluck and cut up—that’s right the chicken still had its feathers.  And I wonder my sister is a quasi-vegetarian.  Anyhoo, the nightly Savory Fare event that eventually drove my sister to abhor the place was this: at closing time, when it was time for my sister and the other workers to clean up, one of them (a jackass) would go lock himself in the bathroom and conveniently unlock himself from the lavatory when all the cleaning had been done and my sister was hanging up her apron.  Who does that?  And who’s so brazen to do it habitually every night?  One time, two times…maybe.  But not every night! 

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