A D Journal 1986

    I suspect plotting, I do, did, will always. It’s one of those things that comes with free trade and competition. What is the plot this time? (You having heard it all before in well, folk, let’s call it the continuing saga of Dunkin Donuts and Phil’s ever vigilant effort to trim costs But a plot, you say? How does a plot fit into his schemes? Let me present my evidence, then see what you think. We shall begin with my queries concerning the Hackettstown store, or rather Phil’s negative reaction to my moving to that region. He said it was too expensive, too far to go, and I wouldn’t like it, all reasonable assumptions until you realize that every other baker in his three-store realm has worked there. All right, so I’m not wanted there for some reason. Then, last week Big John, the night guard says, “Your boss is here.” Phil hadn’t come in early, he had never left, and I got the distinct impression something wasn’t right – a feeling I’d been getting from ...

    Guarding the mall at night has changed significantly I first started working here back in 1981. In those days, the doors were always locked and you were lucky if you got out without a 20 minute wait. There was no watch clock then, just a single night guard making the long and lonely rounds through the empty corridors of the mall, guarding closed doors and dark windows. The regular weekday guard was a old man named Gene, who was about ready for a trip south, waiting on the last details. He was an especially lonely sort and used to talk a lot about things he did with me and the born again Christians with whom he fought. The weekend guard was a sleepy figure who came for coffee, who often slept through my pounding on the door and ringing the buzzer to get in, a nice man who had too many jobs. When Jean left, Chuck took over. Church haunted the mall the lonest and suffered the most in the end when he proved to be all too human. He talked a lot, too, but unlik...