I needed to get it together. Needed to focus. One more hour and my shift was done. I could go home, curl up on my couch, and have a proper breakdown in private like a functional adult.
The door chimed and I glanced up automatically, ready to smile at new customers.
A woman stood in the entrance with two kids clutching her legs. One couldn’t have been more than four while the other was maybe six. Both had that expression kids get when they’re trying very hard to be good.
The woman looked around the restaurant like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to be there. Her clothes were clean but worn.
I knew that look. I’d worn it myself more times than I could count.
She approached the host stand and spoke too quietly for me to hear. Maria, my coworker, shook her head. The woman said something else and Maria shook her head again, firmer this time.
The woman’s shoulders dropped as she turned to leave, already herding her kids toward the door.
“Wait.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud. Didn’t mean to get involved.
She stopped and looked at me with these exhausted eyes that had probably forgotten what hope looked like.
“Give me a second,” I said.
I slipped into the kitchen before Maria could stop me. The back prep area was full of trays of food. Roasted chicken, pasta, vegetables, bread. In three hours the restaurant would close and all of this would go in the trash like it always did. Perfectly good food was wasted because that was policy.
I grabbed containers and started packing.
“What are you doing?” Chef Andre appeared behind me.
“Just packing some food.”
“For who?”
“Does it matter?”
He looked at me for a long moment, then sighed and turned back to his station. “I didn’t see anything.”
I packed enough for a family of four for at least two days and added extra because the kids looked like they needed it. I loaded everything into a bag and walked back out to the dining room.
The woman was still there, waiting by the door like she didn’t quite believe I was coming back.
“Here.” I pressed the bag into her hands. “It’s all cooked. Just needs reheating.”
Her eyes went bright and wet. “I can’t pay?—”
“You don’t have to, just take it.”
“Thank you.” Her voice broke. “Thank you so much.”
She left quickly with kids in tow before anyone could change their minds.
I turned around and nearly walked straight into the manager.
Greg stood there with his arms crossed, his face already red. “What the hell was that?”
“Leftover food that was going to be thrown out anyway.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“It was just going to waste?—”
“I don’t care if it was going to sprout wings and fly away.” His voice got louder and sharper. “You don’t give away restaurant property without permission. You don’t steal from this establishment.”
