I guess since he was on third shift for so long Rick wasn’t aware of this little quirk in the food storage policy. Shortly after I went back on first shift Rick followed suit … and brought a pizza in one morning. Mitch was predicting a theft, based on his ten years with the company and occasional victimization. He had been monitoring the situation all morning, with frequent trips from his area to the break room. He shook his head no on every trip to let me know all pieces were there. Around 10 he walked by and said, “Ten o’clock and all is well.” I laughed each time and went back to work.

At 11 Mitch walked by my room and sounded out, “Eleven o’clock and prepare for hell!” I shot him an odd look, but he was trucking for his booth. I ran down and asked, “What was that all about?”

Mitch looked both excited and apprehensive and whispered, “He’s missing three pieces.” I understood the warning now, and the look that he had plastered all across his evil little face. Rick, a man of little patience but much hot air, was certain to blow his top over this event. We all bunkered down and awaited the hellfire and damnation that surely would follow.

Nothing.

We all ate lunch at twelve and waited. Nothing. Rick finally came in and to our surprise had a Subway sandwich. He sat down with Mitch and me and munched away. He engaged in his usual – gossip laced with rude remarks about women and racist comments. I followed with my usual – rebuttals on his ignorance and short, precise demands for him to keep his boorish opinions bottled up around me.

I talked to Mitch afterwards and we discussed the odd lack of rage and pondered the odd presence of the Subway sandwich. Mitch also reported that the pizza was in the trash can, still only missing the three pieces. I knew that Mitch’s patience was wearing thin and soon his dislike for Rick would be overcome by his curiosity and need to stir up trouble. He would go and get to the bottom of this.

It didn’t come to that, though, as Rick coasted by to the proofing room with a smug look on his face. “I brought a pizza in this morning and some unlucky bastard ate three pieces of it,” he told me very matter-of-fact-ly.

I replied, feigning ignorance of the situation, “Really? What are you going to do to him, Rick?”

“Nothing.”

I looked at him is disbelief. “YOU,” I asked in astonishment, “YOU are going to do nothing? YOU, who have to take out every ounce of anger on someone are going to do nothing?!?”

Rick just looked back vacantly and said that in a few hours we would know who took his pizza and that they would know it, too. “They are going to be some kind of sick pretty soon. I pissed all over that pizza this morning before I came to work. I bet they don’t steal ANYONE else’s food ever again.”

And he was right. Mitch had to fill in for three days for Owen, who was out due to a stomach bug. No one ever found his or her food missing again.