The situation really depended on the dynamics of the workplace. I used to work at a Barberito’s, which is a fast-casual restaurant similar to Moe’s or Chipotle. As an employee, you could enjoy a shift meal, but it was best to avoid doing so when the owner was present, as he was notoriously stingy. You could tell he was not happy offering the meal, even if he allowed it.
Among my coworkers, there was a white, chubby guy who was exceptionally lazy and regularly offloaded most of his responsibilities onto others. The prep cook was an absolute nightmare; I don’t use that term lightly. He had a way of making you feel unwelcome. If you ever approached him for help, he would roll his eyes and respond with a condescending or passive-aggressive comment. It was even worse than I can convey. As a new employee trying to learn the ropes, I often found myself in need of assistance. I would leave our interactions feeling disheartened by his arrogance.
On the other hand, the head manager was a decent guy, perhaps around 39, and quite intelligent. He had a solid educational background and seemed to come from a good family, which made it perplexing to me why he was working at a place like Barberito’s in early 2019, where the floor staff was making between $8 and $9 an hour. I couldn’t fathom what the head manager was earning, but he truly kept the place running. The owner’s stinginess cast a shadow over my respect for the business — especially considering that the manager had a wife and a baby on the way.
Another of my coworkers was an overweight black kid who rarely spoke and seemed genuinely shy. I tried to engage him in conversation, thinking it might help him open up. He did decent work and didn’t pose any threat to anyone, but I got the vibe that he might be an anime enthusiast. I knew little about anime, so I attempted to connect with him through conversations about video games and movies, but he seldom responded. Instead, he would stare at me with a blank expression, as if trying to size me up. Eventually, after a week of minimal interaction, I decided to let him be.
Having worked there for just over a month, I needed to scrape together some money since I had moved to town and didn’t know many people. At $8 an hour, my financial situation felt precarious, especially once my savings began to dwindle. I started to sense that the quiet guy was giving me looks of disdain. One day, while I was eating my shift meal, I noticed he looked particularly agitated, grinding his teeth. I asked if he was alright, trying to diffuse any potential conflict. Although he didn’t respond verbally, his expression made it clear he was unhappy. The staring contest ended when he returned to his work.
I began to think he might be upset that I was taking my shift meal without paying. I recalled that very few other employees ever seemed to take advantage of this perk. I thought to myself, “Either these people are exceptionally loyal to the store and don’t want to jeopardize any potential profits for the owner, or they’ve simply grown tired of eating Barberito’s after working there for so long.” I couldn’t help but question if the owner had discouraged employees from utilizing the free meal through subtle gaslighting tactics. I remembered him mentioning this to me at the beginning: a friendly pitch about the “free company meal.” From my experience in the restaurant industry, I recognized this tactic well.
On my first day, I took my shift meal a few hours before the busy period. I enjoyed a burrito, chips, and a drink. The owner didn’t seem thrilled to see me eating. I approached him to confirm our entitlement to the daily meal. He said yes but cautiously added, “Just try not to go crazy.” His body language indicated otherwise. I made sure to clarify by asking, “Are you SURE?” He glanced up with a shaky smile and nodded, “Yeah, that’s fine. Enjoy!” As I walked away, he called after me, “Hey, maybe you won’t have to buy groceries anymore!” He laughed genuinely.
I wondered if there were any laws requiring restaurants to provide employees with a daily meal, and if the owner resented that. I genuinely enjoyed indulging during my shifts. Later, the head manager approached me and warned me to refrain from taking a shift meal while the owner was around. “I think he’s a little OCD. But you can order whatever you want on my watch, okay buddy?” I thanked him for the reassurance.
Typically, if a boss has a particular pet peeve, I try to avoid that out of respect. However, given that I was making $8 an hour in 2019, I felt no obligation to let a stingy owner gaslight me into foregoing my rightful meal. I had applied for better jobs, and I believed it was only a matter of time before I moved on.
Every day I worked, I indulged in my shift meal. The location was in a bustling college town where it wasn’t uncommon to have lines out the door. Events and parades drew crowds downtown, resulting in booming business. During football season, forget about it – it was the busiest restaurant I had ever worked in. I couldn’t fathom how the night shift managed it. With bars everywhere, drunk college kids flooded in every night. It was clear the owner was making enough money to justify offering shift meals.
Finally, I received a call for an interview with a much better employer — a mechanic position at a plant that promised a living wage. I got the job.
On my last day at Barberito’s, I went about preparing my usual shift meal. Surprisingly, it was quite slow that day. The quiet black kid was there, standing alertly, ready to take customer orders. His method of doing so—pointing, nodding, and occasionally grunting—was amusingly effective, even if he rarely spoke.
The other employees were lounging at the tables, absorbed in their phones, while the head manager occupied himself with paperwork in the back office. I decided it was the right time to let him know I found a better job, shake his hand, and bid farewell.
As I was preparing to leave, boredom and hunger tempted me to make myself a steak taco. The quiet kid noticed and suddenly raised his voice, clearly and firmly calling for the manager. The manager rushed out, puzzled, asking what the issue was.
The silent kid spoke loudly and clearly, “I saw him eating a taco, and I know he already had a shift meal earlier.”
The head manager responded, “Okay, Josh, just keep it to one meal a day or you’ll need to pay.” He shrugged and returned to his office. It was time for me to clock out anyway, so I headed out without mentioning my new job.
As I left, the silent dude’s glare intensified. Catching my gaze, he declared, “Don’t let me catch you doing that again. I’m considering informing Brian,” the owner. Then he resumed his watch for customers.
Months passed before I returned to Barberito’s for a meal. When I finally did, it was during the night shift. The employees I recognized but hadn’t worked with gave me a hard time. “What happened? Why did you quit without telling anyone?” one asked, laughing.
I smiled and replied, “Oh, I found a better job, you know how it is.” Satisfied with that answer, he took my order.
Then came a surprising twist. As I went to pay, the worker joked with another, “Hey, doesn’t this guy still owe us for a taco?” They both laughed, then the other added, “It’s on us. Don’t worry.”
Instead of a fountain drink, I opted for water, filling a clear cup. Just as I turned to fill it, one of the night shift workers loomed over my shoulder, smirking. He quipped, “Ah man, we’re just making sure you won’t end up owing us for a fountain drink. That’s all.”