Not too long ago, we thought it'd be nice to have another one or two cooks working there. We set up three folks to show up a few nights a week to work out which one or two of the three we'll keep on. Mel (the head cook) and I were talking about it last week, and I said we should go with Kevin and Emily. She asked why, and I said, "I get along with Kevin. He knows folks I know, we have a grand old time talking about Doctor Who, physics, and music. And Emily, well.. she's cute. She might also be keen, like Kevin, but I've yet to really talk with her. So hire them and I can at least chat with Kevin and make mooney-eyes at Emily. The other guy? Heck, I don't even know his name so he's out of the running." Mel laughs, I laugh, a grand time is had by all.
I should have known better.
I come into work on Tuesday and find out that Kevin's been fired for supposedly stealing beer from the walk-in. Mind, I've no clue if this means he was supposedly grabbing a 6-pack and taking it home, or if he was supposedly just grabbing a beer now and then from the walk-in (which was a regular trend with Jimmy, an ex-cook's husband, when he'd come by on busy evenings to "help", except he'd start tossing them back scant minutes after he showed up and be pretty much useless after three hours). I haven't pressed anyone for evidence details, yet. I'm presuming it's the former since we don't keep careful stock of our beers, and we're not the sort of place to worry if someone has a couple of pints or a couple glasses of wine post-work without bothering to ring it up.
Edit to Add: Apparently not! Mel mentioned to me today that she'd mentioned the beer-thing merely because it was interesting and not the actual reason for nixing Kevin. Seems someone (we know not who) has/had been downing half of the cooking whiskey and had, for some alien reason, been drinking beers from the walk-in and then leaving the empties hidden around the place (behind cream cheese, under towels, etc..). Unfortunately, they didn't tell me at the time so I didn't have the chance to do any CSI forensics work. Let me tell you, once you read the complete Sherlock Holmes, it'll change your life.
Not great, but I can deal with it. I mean, there's still this mysterious Emily, right? On Friday, she walks over and cocks an ear by my stereo, "Tom Waits, right?" as some song I can't recall from Mule Variations is playing. This, of course, leads to us having a grand old time talking about Tom Waits, Perry Como, Jesca Hoop, Regina Spektor, et cetera.
Today I come in to work all set to talk with her about music some more. At one point I'm passing through the downstairs kitchen and she's sitting on the floor in a position very similar to the yoga Boat Pose. I ask, "Did you intend to be on the floor?" to which she smiles and mutters a yes. Before I continue on my way I mention a something work-related to her (which I can't recall) and she nods back. So, I continue along my merry way, hearing Dustin (one of the cooks) coming down the stairs. Elseroom, I get to thinking about it and realize I really should have directly asked if she was alright, but also realize that Dustin showed up when I left, so I'm sure things'll be fine.
When I pass back through about five minutes later, the salad she'd been eating is gone and she's no longer on the floor so I presume the best. After a bit, I hear a *THUMP* from the floor above me. I laugh to myself, "And that'd be Emily, passing out and taking a header on the floor!" and don't think much more about it.
Yeah.. so, about that thump?
It was, in fact, Emily passing out and taking a header on the floor. When I went upstairs a few minutes later, the kitchen was conspicuously missing any cooks and the flashing lights of an ambulance were blinking out in the street by the front door.
I/We do not know, at this time, exactly what was up with her passing out, but I -do- know that she's home and alive. At the end of the day, I realized that much of her stuff was still there at work, and probably her keys and car were still there (it's easy to ID her stuff as her own since she has a very distinctive scent -- sort of like sandalwood, but not quite) since her coat was still there. I rooted about the paperwork to get her phone number, and called to leave a message that if she needed/wanted to get her coat and all, I have a key and I know the code to undo the security alarm, so she could call me at any point between now and dawn and we could get her stuff. I realized, right after hanging up, that I didn't mention that I could easily stick around until 11:45 PM to save myself from walking home, then back to work, and then back to home, so I called again. This time, it was answered by some fellow who said she was home and sleeping, so either she's home and alive, or some liar has her phone.
I've really got to do something about this curse.