Phil is plotting again Feb. 21, 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 Clara Jean for some time.

Phil is normally a coward. So, when he says he wants to meet with me to “talk,” you know something is amiss.

In fact, this was not the first time Phil has stayed around after hours, hedging around some important point he wanted to make. Well, last night he got to it and asked if I would like to work in Hackettstown.

At first, I jumped at it and said yes, since it is what I wanted all along, But after he left, I got to thinking about how strange the offer was, and got the feeling there was something he had not said.

About a month ago, Phil had mentioned the possibility of selling me one of his cars. His Pepsi business was going under as new management tightened control over the industry. But then last night, he said he couldn’t sell the car after all, not a big disappointment, yet I got the feeling I was being pushed out of Willowbrook. I got more indications of this when I called during the day shift and caught just an odd hint of something in Clara Jean’s voice, no complaints, although I routinely got under her skin, nothing verbal though I had received written comments about idiot things she found annoying.

Phil’s excuse for the offer was that he had too many bakers me, Butch, Bernard and Ken in one store all vying for more hours – which was strange because Butch lived less than 30 minutes from the Hackettstown store.

I got wind of the truth when I talked to the night guards, who said Butch had been bragging to Clara Jean about all the jobs he could do: finish, porter and baker, to which Clara Jean responded, “That’s fine. But all you have to do is find a way to get rid of Al.”

Believe me, I reeled with that and looked in the bathroom mirror and saw my eyed red with rage. I even waited for Butch to show up, by which time my anger had abated some. But I kept the mask of anger on, though aimed my rage at Phil and Clara Jean.

Butch said none of this mattered to him. He could work anywhere since Phil had offered to sell him the car instead of to me.

 

 1986 Menu


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