Amnesia Ch. 01

When John donated a hundred dollars at Easter, Tom expressed shock.

"John, you can't afford this, it's too much!"

"No ... I can't afford not to give it. I owe you a lot. More importantly, it's a bribe," he smiled.

"How so?"

"I need you to help me find a replacement for me."

"Are you leaving us?"

"No ... not exactly. There are a lot of jobs out there for cooks and I'd like to try my hand. Muriel has taught me a lot and I've learned a lot as well. I think I can do it. I know what it's like to run a restaurant kitchen from working with her and I'd like to try it on my own. I don't want to leave her in the lurch, so I need to find my replacement and make sure he or she will do a good job."

"John ... guys like you don't come down the road that often around here. It's going to be a bit of a challenge to find your replacement," he said, resigned. "However, I can understand your desire to do better. How does Muriel feel about this?"

"Well, she's not thrilled, but she knew all along it wasn't going to be permanent. She's a fine lady and I wouldn't hurt her for the world. I won't leave until I've found someone to take my place.

"I've been thinking a mentally handicapped person with a mild disability might be ideal for the job. It's simple to teach and they are usually anxious to find meaningful employment. I've been looking up the handicap associations. I think two or three people would be needed to do that job with the hours being what they are."

"That's a fine idea. I hope it works. I know one organization locally that would be interested, I'm sure."

"It'll be easy to test. I'll just bring one in at a time and see how it goes. It's worth a try."

"It certainly is and I can guarantee you will get great cooperation from the people who are trying to place partially handicapped people."

The Wildwood Outreach Association dealt with adults of limited mental capacity. Tom, John, and Muriel arranged to meet with them one morning and discuss the project. As Tom Matthews had predicted, they were very supportive. John had to temper their enthusiasm with the reality of the situation. Long, late hours and a need to follow the rules. It would be Wildwood's responsibility to provide the transportation. While the counselors nodded their agreement, John cautioned them again that it would be more difficult than they thought.

John and Muriel screened the candidates before taking them to the restaurant. The eagerness of the men and women was encouraging, but the need for them to understand the procedures and not vary from them was the first thing they worked on. Mr. Leung looked on with a suspicious eye. He was quick to tell Muriel how unhappy he would be to lose John. He also voiced his doubts that these recruits could do the job without some disaster befalling him.

It took time. John pointed out the promotional benefits of hiring these people and giving them real jobs for real pay. Apparently, the message was not lost on Mr. Leung. He verbally acknowledged the effort that John and Muriel gave, and he agreed to cover the full training costs. Each Sunday evening, the money was given to the Wildwood driver for safekeeping.

A month after they began, Muriel voiced her satisfaction that two of the new recruits could do the job. They weren't as quick or efficient as John, but then no one previously was, either. They were, however, steady, reliable, happy to be there, and proud of their work. One more candidate and John could begin to look for that next job.

Shortly after their initial success, Mr. Leung approached Muriel and asked for a meeting with her and John. Mr. Leung was considering buying a tavern that had been closed for some time. He wanted to reopen it, but he needed food service to make it viable. The kitchen had been allowed to deteriorate by the previous owners. He asked Muriel and John to survey the kitchen and give him an opinion on what it would take to revive the operation.

It was Mr. Leung's idea that John could be the head cook at the Tavern and Mr. Leung would hire a bartender-manager and serving staff. John would hire his assistant if he accepted the job. The tavern would open at eleven am and close at midnight. Food service would be cut off at nine pm except for pre-prepared snacks. John said he would consider it, depending on what he thought of the kitchen ... and the salary.

Their first look at the kitchen was dismaying. Grease and grime coated every surface. The only functional piece of equipment was the glass washer behind the bar, and it needed some attention as well. The wall and floor were a mess and any idea that the city would issue a food permit for this kitchen was a pipe dream. It needed a massive cleaning and repainting. The plateware, glasses, utensils and cookware were worn, but still serviceable.

"What is needed for this kitchen?" Mr. Leung asked in his fractured English.

"A nuclear device," John snapped, shaking his head at the mess.

Mr. Leung looked worried. He turned expectantly to Muriel and John.

"We'll have to pull every piece of equipment out of this place that isn't nailed down and steam clean it. The floors, ceiling and the walls the same. We can't move the ovens, so that's going to be manual labor. The same with the sinks. At least everything is stainless steel. That's a help," John concluded.

"Expensive?" Mr. Leung looked fearfully at John.

"Hmmm ... maybe not. Just elbow grease and time for the most part. You'll need a few gallons of epoxy paint and a powerful steam cleaner."

"Who will do this?" the old man asked.

John shrugged and grinned. "Not me. I've already got a job, remember?"

Muriel snorted and covered her mouth to hide her smile. Her eyes gave her away.

"I get people and paint. You make sure it done right?"

"Alright. I'll do that. Just make sure you don't try any shortcuts or the city will have you doing it all over again just for the fun of it," John warned.

"Would they?" Muriel asked in surprise.

"I don't know. But I'm not going to let him think he can get away with a half-baked job. It may be me working in that kitchen and I don't intend to compete with cockroaches and silverfish."

Mr. Leung apparently had quite a few relatives who owed him favors. A couple of them were Muriel's helpers in her kitchen. A hoard of them descended on the Tavern the next Sunday with paint, a rented industrial steam cleaner and a boatload of cleaning supplies.

John grinned, turning to Muriel. "It's going to be the Keystone Cops around here. All I can do is give them instructions about what to do and how well to do it."

Happily, most of the volunteers spoke English and he was able to communicate with them. He broke them into teams and moved the kitchen equipment out into the back parking area of the tavern. The steam cleaning would be done there and the finished items would be brought into the tavern and stored in the restaurant area until the kitchen painting was complete.

The nasty work of cleaning the ovens and sinks had to be done in place and by hand -- with the exception of the oven racks. It was hard, unpleasant work, but spelling each other off every few minutes, six people got the job done in less than a day and John complimented their efforts. The ovens were spotless despite their age, and the sinks and drains would easily pass inspection.

Three days later, the epoxy paint had dried and they were ready to put everything back into place and prepare the kitchen for work. John had given it a thorough going-over and was satisfied that no inspector would reject this operation. They had installed a new screen door on the exit to the alleyway and had put a closer on the doors to the cooler and pantry. And, important for a restaurant, they engaged a pest-control firm to monitor the premises.

Every square foot was washable and secure. The fans had been de-greased and cleaned and now worked properly. It would be a monthly job once the tavern re-opened. Even the transom window over the rear door had been cleaned and the woodwork repainted. They were ready for the city inspector on Friday.

Mr. Leung came by after John asked Muriel to let him know the kitchen was finished. As he surveyed the refurbished area, he looked surprised, but pleased. He thanked John and Muriel for their efforts. While John and the crew had been busy in the back, Mr. Leung had been supervising the clean-up in the front.

The physical work was now done, but there were still people to hire. Which brought up the subject; who was going to be the cook? The owner had made no offer to John at this point.

"I hope he doesn't think I'm going to work for $300 a week," John cracked.

"Have you looked at what the going rate for a head cook is in this town, John?"

"No ... not yet. Why ... is it low?"

"Far from it. There aren't enough to go around. You can get fifty thousand if you're even half-way decent."

"Wow ... I didn't know. Thanks for the heads up. I'll have to figure out how to work this with the old man. Maybe give him an introductory offer at forty and then a couple of raises to fifty if he's satisfied. Otherwise, I'll start lookin' elsewhere. Just the same, I hate to see all this work go to waste."

"All you can do is try," Muriel shrugged.

He did try and Mr. Leung reluctantly agreed. He was no spendthrift, but he recognized the effort John had put in at his restaurant and the leadership in getting the tavern in good operating condition. A six month trial wouldn't break him. John set about hiring his assistant while the old man looked for a manager and serving staff. It took a couple of weeks, but it got done and the tavern reopened at eleven on a Monday morning.

It worked well. The tavern business didn't return immediately, but when word got around about John's interesting and tasty specials, the lunch patronage improved markedly. The menu was simple, but every item was well prepared and presented. The bar stocked the most popular drafts, wines and spirits and the prices were reasonable. They had to be. This part of town wasn't the businessman's first choice for lunch.

As the reputation for the tavern grew, John expressed a desire to make another change. The neon sign over the front door was a shabby old one-word oval simply pronouncing Tavern. They needed a name and John decided to hold a contest. Free lunch or dinner for two for the person who came up with a new name for the old saloon-like place.

John watched as the new one-word sign was raised into place. Amnesia! The front on the new menus sported the slogan: Come in and forget your troubles. He had declared himself winner of the contest. The back cover had a one paragraph explanation of the name, signed by John Doe.

Mr. Leung had stood still for the new name, sign and menus. John admitted he was puzzled, but they had experienced two months of solid growth and profit under the old name and the old man made it known he was satisfied with that.

"The old guy keeps surprising me. I'm never sure what he's thinking." he said to Carl, the new bartender-manager.

In any event, after another month of solid growth in sales, Mr. Leung never said a word about it to John.

When John sat back one Sunday morning, sipping his coffee with Muriel, he voiced his feelings to the older woman.

"I don't know about my other life, Muriel, but it's hard to imagine it would have been any more satisfying than this. You and Mr. Leung and Tom Matthews have made an amazing difference to my new life in just a few months. I don't seem to care much about my former life any more. I guess that's not a good sign, but I just can't work myself up to worry about it like I used to," he confessed.

Muriel smiled. "It was pretty lonely in this apartment until you came along, John. I miss you at the restaurant too, you know."

He nodded his acknowledgement. "How are my young friends doing in the dishwashing department?"

"Fine. You guessed right again. They learn their jobs and don't forget. They show up on time and if one of them gets sick, another fills in. I think we've got about six of them trained now. Wildwood Outreach is approaching other restaurants and using Bamboo Terrace as a model for the program. You really started something for them. I think they're about ready to elect you president," she laughed.

"Well, it's not an original idea, you know. Lots of small firms have used handicapped people to help out on menial tasks that most adults don't want to do."

"I suppose, but you solved a big problem for Mr. Leung. Until you came along, we were featuring the dishwasher d'jour. You changed all that. I think that's why he didn't put up a fuss over renaming the bar and the sign."

John shrugged. "Muriel ... I was wondering ... about us ... my living here. You've been very kind to take me in, but I'm worried I've overstayed my welcome. I'm cramping your social life. It would be a poor way to repay you for your generosity," he said looking steadily at her.

"I wondered if that's what this was about. All I can say is that having you here is good for me, John. I don't think we cramp each other's style or get in each other's way. You and I talk a lot and that's a good thing for both of us. No ... I'm not anxious to see you go. If you do, make sure it's because it's what you want to do." She was smiling as a couple of tears trickled down her cheeks.

John rose and leaned over the table, kissing her gently on each tear, smiling back at her.

"If you're happy, I'm happy." It was the only time the subject came up.