Page 33 of Wassailing We Will Go
Daniel’s describes a horrible bathroom situation in significantly more detail than I ever cared to know.
Chef Melanie calls me, sounding downbeat like I’ve never heard her before, saying there is no way that she can be in a kitchen today, physically, spiritually, emotionally, or hygienically.
Harrison walks in and delivers the death knell. Charlie is sick, too. A stomach bug of some kind—I promise you don’t want to know the details.
It can’t be a stomach bug, I say. How did everyone get sick but us and a handful of random employees? What happened yesterday? Did everyone eat something?
I mean, some snacks before the karaoke night, I suppose. The usual sweet potato fries, and I split a pizza with Charlie. Oh, there were also the goat cheese and fig cookies, but I’m allergic to walnuts, so I didn’t have any.
Cookies? I ask. I vaguely remember seeing a plate being passed around. Who brought them in? Maybe they didn’t have good kitchen hygiene or something.
I don’t think baked goods could have had this effect, says Harrison. Hearing what Charlie’s going through…unless they had, like, raw chicken as an ingredient, that rules them out. And Ryan’s actually a really amazing baker, so I think he’s off the hook. Just not so amazing that he forgot that I’m deathly allergic to most nuts and is apparently trying to murder me.
Wait, wait, I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. The cookies were from bitter&sweet?
Oh yeah, he made hundreds of them for this weekend, said Harrison. They’re serving them as a treat at their tasting bar. Yesterday, he dropped off a big tray to Wendy at the tasting bar to share with the staff as a good luck gift going into the weekend.
His expression betrays nothing. Absolutely zero acknowledgment that this could be perhaps seen as an act of sabotage, and so now I feel like an absolute ass bringing it up. You don’t think… I start, clear my throat, and then start again. You don’t think it’s possible that he messed up the recipe? I tiptoe around what I really want to ask. I just think it’s odd that we are the only two that aren’t sick, with your hazelnut allergy and my being cooped up in the office yesterday sorting out our end-of-month P&L. I think we have to consider that it might have been the cookies.
Harrison blanches and takes out his phone. I need to tell Ryan, then, before he poisons half the County. He walks away for a moment, speaking quickly, and I’m left standing there, fuming.
Yes, Harrison, please go check on Ryan. God forbid something happens to him. Never mind that ninety percent of my staff can’t leave the bathroom right now. Harrison comes back, and my face must betray my annoyance.
Er, Ryan’s chucking them all out, he says hesitantly. To be safe.
How great for Ryan, I say flatly.
He never would have done this on purpose, says Harrison, and now his own voice has an uncharacteristic edge to it. Apparently, he and Britt aren’t feeling well, either. It’s a good thing I called him, or hundreds of people may have gotten sick.
I barely manage to bite back the retort I desperately want to fire off. At best, Harrison is naive, and at worst, he knows and just doesn’t care that his friends may have intentionally sabotaged us for this weekend. I push back that last thought—everything I know about him screams that he just sees the best in everyone, even as they’re out there food-poisoning people.
But for right now, I need him as an employee, or this weekend is cancelled.
I am sorry that this happened, however it happened, I say. We’ll figure it out later. But right now, I think we just need to focus on how we’re going to get through the day. Let’s see who we can bring in.
Harrison pauses and looks like he wants to say more but settles on Sure thing.
By about 10:30, I realize that we have about half of the scheduled staff: people who either missed out on the cookies, don’t care for figs, or just weren’t there yesterday. Barb is the only department head to come in, but even some of her staff had a cookie or two while passing through the tasting bar.
Can you manage the tasting bar today? You’ll only have Liz, I say to Harrison. It’s not ideal.
I think we can handle it. I can tell that after our last conversation, he is currently not a huge fan of Boss Kate and maybe not even normal Kate, but right now, I just appreciate his being task oriented.
I can help with the store, offers Barb. I don’t think I’d be much good in the restaurant or tasting bar, though.
I consider her for a moment. Do you think maybe you can tell people about the orchards? I ask. Your team’s work is pretty interesting, and most people don’t know what goes into the growing side of things. Maybe you can welcome some of the guests into the orchard with their glasses of cider, spread them out a little so that Harrison isn’t as overwhelmed.
I think Hugo could do that, she says with a nod. He’s a chatty guy. I think he’d love it.
Hugo is her lead man for all things maintenance and orchard, a young man in his twenties. He’s a friendly guy, the kind who always stops what he’s doing to say hi if you’re walking by. That would be great.
Have you told Jenn and Lauren about this? asks Barb.
Why would I do that? I ask, raising an eyebrow. They’re retired. They don’t need to know about every little issue here.
She shrugs. I just think they’d want to know, she says.
Let’s leave this one out, I say. Let me know if you need anything for today.
