Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
The spreadsheet on the desk showed a four percent drop in gross revenue for the third month in a row.
Donald, the accountant, tapped his plastic pen against the laminated wood of the desk in the Decatur office, the sound sharp and rhythmic.
“It is only the Springfield location,” Donald said, sliding his glasses up his nose to peer at the bottom line. “Every other diner in the district is up or holding steady.”
Carter adjusted the gold wedding band on his left ring finger, turning the band twice around his knuckle.
“It is a training issue,” Carter said, his gravelly voice low and slow. “New hires do not always understand how to control portion sizes or minimize food waste.”
Donald shook his head and closed the cardboard folder with a sharp snap. “The food costs are completely flat, Carter. The customers are buying the food, but the cash is not reaching the bank. The Tuesday lunch reports show the exact same customer count as last year, but the register tape does not match the deposit envelopes.”
Donald muttered, marking a red circle around the final figure on his notepad. “We are missing four percent. On a weekend, that is the difference between making payroll or dipping into reserves.”
Carter looked out the window at the gray Springfield gravel in the memory of his mind, his sense of pride in the small chain he had built beginning to fray.
“I will go down there myself,” Carter said, rising from his leather chair. “I will see what is happening on the floor.”
An hour later, Carter pulled his pickup truck into a gas station off Interstate 72, the engine idling rough in the autumn chill.
He walked to the back of the convenience store where a rotating rack of cheap clothing sat under a dusty fluorescent light.
He selected a faded blue construction cap, paid the cashier three dollars in cash, and pulled the stiff brim down over his forehead before he got back behind the wheel. The fabric was stiff and smelled of cheap dye, but it shadowed his eyes.
