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And That's How the Money Rolls In

Written by Terry Howard

Hours later, after the poker game broke up, Janos was still waiting in the kitchen. Arch Pennock thought he'd gone on home after all the dumplings had been finished by the ravening horde that was his poker buddies.

"Mister Pennock," Janos said, "I don't mind cooking Sundays, I really don't. But going into catering, well, I do not know if it is a good idea. When would I do it? I've got a job." He'd been having second thoughts . . . lots of second thoughts.

"John Ose, how much is that skinflint paying you to pluck chickens?"

"I am well paid, Mister Pennock. I make two hundred dollars a week."

"Kid, if you were working forty hours that would be five dollars an hour. But I know better. You're putting in ten and twelve hour days. You give your boss a weeks' notice tomorrow."

"Beg pardon, Mister Pennock . . . what means 'give notice'?"

"Tell him you're quitting and he's got one week to find and train your replacement."

"I can't do that! I need a job to pay my rent. And eat. Besides, if I tell him that, he'll fire me on the spot."

"Good. Listen, you're getting half the profits. We'll put you on a two fifty a week draw."

Janos was a bit confused. Mr. Pennock often had that effect on him. "Two fifty a week draw?"

"It means that each and every week you collect two hundred and fifty dollars starting next week . . . or this week if the skunk gives you the boot. We deduct it from your half of the profits and if there aren't any profits, I'll eat it."

Janos wasn't sure he understood every thing Arch was saying. "You will pay me two hundred and fifty dollars a week to make dumplings?"

"Well, if you want to put it that way, yes."

"Mister Pennock, I will start tomorrow!"

"No, you will start next week. You will give your current employer a weeks' notice. Of course, you don't have to be overly polite about it and if the idiot cans you, then the draw starts this week. And another thing, how old are you?"

"I am twenty-three years of age, Mister Pennock."

"Well, kid, you're way too old to be calling me mister all the time, especially if we're going to be partners. Call me Arch." Arch stuck out his hand, thinking everything was settled and Janos understood and agreed to what was going on. He was soon to find out different.

****

Monday morning, not long after dawn, Arch stumbled to the kitchen door in his robe and slippers, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The knocking on the door was reasonably polite and entirely insistent.

"Good morning, Arch. I gave notice like you told me and now I am no longer employed as a chicken-plucker."

Arch looked at the horizon. About half of the sun was showing over the hill top. He closed his eyes and rubbed them hard. "Come on in, John. Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes. I ate a heel of bread while I walked to work this morning."

"Well. I haven't had my coffee yet. Do you know how to make coffee?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm going to take a shower and shave. Why don't you make us some coffee and maybe some breakfast.? Then when I'm awake we'll figure out what we're going to do."

When Arch was finally awake and dressed for the day and back in the kitchen, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into, he found Janos patiently stirring a pan of grits. As soon as Janos noticed Arch he pushed the lever and dropped the sliced bread into the toaster. The electric knife and the cutting frame were back on the shelf and the half-loaf of bread was back in the refrigerator. Grits and toast was not what Arch had in mind for breakfast, unless he added a couple of eggs and some bacon. But the grits were in a bowl and on the table before he could say a word and the young man was hovering over the toaster waiting for the toast to pop up.

Arch sat down and picked up the cup of coffee.

"Mister Pennock, we will need to go to the store to buy what we need to make dumplings."

"Not today, John. We don't have any orders to fill."

"But you are paying me to make dumplings."

Arch could hear the worry in the young man's voice. He had just quit his job. What if Arch backed out on the promised two fifty a week? What if he had misunderstood?

"John, slow down and take it easy. Don't get your dander up. If it will make you feel better, I can give you the first weeks draw today. But we can't be making dumplings unless we can sell them. I've got to figure out how to get the orders coming in. If I know the guys from poker last night, they're busy telling everyone just how good your dumplings are, and how you are willing to make them to order, but it will a few days before we've got any business."

"I can sell them down at the market," Janos said, putting the toast on a plate and setting it on the table.

"Grab me the butter out of the 'frig, will ya? You think you can sell the dumplings down at the market?"

"Sure. If I take a pot down there around noon and give a free bowl to Greta, she will tell everyone. And then everyone who works there will be coming to buy." Janos caught himself and pointed out the short fall. "As long as I am not charging too much."

"Humm," Arch said. "Sounds like a good advertising scheme to me." He pulled his wallet out and handed Janos some money, thanking his lucky stars that he had his retirement funds deposited in the local bank. "You go buy what you need. I'll see what I can do in the way of a push cart."

The money was barely in the boy's hands before he was heading for the door. "John, make sure you get a receipt," Arch called. "This is a business now, so we've got to keep track of expenses."

"I will get a receipt, Mister Pennock," Janos called over his shoulder as the door closed.

Arch wandered out to the garage where his new car and his 1932 model Ford Roadster were up on blocks to keep the tires from going flat and rotting where they touched the ground while he waited for the oil industry to get up and running so people could put their cars back on the road. He looked around and started talking out loud to himself. Years ago he'd realized it helped him think things through.

"The wheel ...