The names and locations in this post have been changed to protect my identity and the identity of others.
In the summer of 2018 I decided that I did not want to continue college anymore. I was conflicted due to the cost of the tuition, and scared because of the looming debt I would have to start paying off after graduation. I was a sophomore at the time, and a college fund set up by my grandparents had gotten me through the first year and a half. When I had to take out the first loan I really began to wonder whether or not college was for me. I was not happy with my major or my school that I attended.
At the time I had always wanted to be a chef. I enjoyed being around food and most of my free time was spent in the kitchen experimenting with new dishes and recipes. After a long conversation with my parents, with their support, I decided I would drop out of college to pursue a career as a chef. The plan was to get a job at a restaurant for a year or two and save up enough money to attend culinary school. This would allow me to gain experience in the kitchen and attend culinary school without worrying about debt after I graduate.
After moving back in with my parents in my hometown, I began my job search. I applied to a few upscale restaurants and a few chain restaurants. When I realized that no one in any decent establishment would hire me for a full time cook position with no experience, I began to apply for a few dishwasher positions to get my foot in the door.
I heard back from two jobs. One was for a full-time prep cook position at locally owned steakhouse that I had been to a few times. I was shocked that I had even been considered given the fact I had no kitchen experience, let alone job experience. The second place that responded was the local Country Club. My parents had been members there a few years prior, so I had been there a good amount of times to eat and play golf and use the pool and other amenities. It was a nice and upscale establishment that hosted the wealthiest and most affluent members of our city. Even though it was for a dishwasher position, I decided to go to the interview since the chef scheduled it sooner that the steakhouse.
Trying to look the part, I dressed in a nice button down and khakis. It was the first time I had been to the country club in a good amount of time. I pulled into the visitor parking lot and tried to calm my nerves before going through the front doors. I told the receptionist that I was there for an interview with the chef for the dishwasher position, and she politely had me wait while she got him. After a few minutes she came out of a long hallway accompanied by the chef. He did not look like I had expected when I heard his voice on the phone. He was tall, maybe 6'5 and in his late fifties. His most defining features were his sunken eyes and grey moustache. He wore his white chef uniform with a black apron and a black baseball cap that was embroidered with the logo of what I assume was the culinary school he had attended.
"Howdy Jack!" The words flowed out of his mouth with the most Texan of accents. "I'm Chef Marcus, let's get you into the kitchen and into my office."
We pushed through the doors of the kitchen and immediately entered his office. He asked me some basic interview questions: what I want to do with my life, what my strengths and weaknesses are, and what I can bring to the table. Once the formalities were out of the way, he asked me about why I was interested in working in the kitchen and culinary school. I told him about the successes of my uncle and my passion for food and doing something I love. When I mentioned what culinary school I wanted to go to, he pointed to the diploma on the wall. He was an alumni. The conversation went on for a good thirty minutes. We talked about how he got into the restaurant industry, what I wanted to do with my life, and a range of other topics. I don't know if it was because I reminded him of his younger self, or if he saw me as someone who could really benefit the kitchen, but he decided the dishwasher job would probably hold me back.
After a few minutes of him trying to think of a job for me in the kitchen, he decided that I would work as a dishwasher for a few days and then I would train as a prep cook. He said he would mentor me and do everything he could to prepare me for culinary school. I was ecstatic. I was going to have an alumni of one of the most prestigious culinary schools in the country teach me everything he knows.
I finished up the interview with the chef and headed down to payroll to fill out my employment papers. All of it was standard paperwork. Until it wasn't. I had never had a real job before, but I found the next piece of paperwork to be a little unnecessary. It was a non-disclosure agreement. The NDA was multiple pages of legal jargon describing and defining confidential information, breaches in the NDA, penalties for a breach, and the parties involved. The NDA would be between the Country Club and the employee, me. I was also required to sign an NDA for a company called Lane Sustainable Livestock, LLC. When I asked the payroll manager why I had to sign NDA's to work at a country club, she explained that I would be working around and exposed to affluent people that wanted their conversations private. She also said a lot of the processes in the kitchen as well as the Country Club's suppliers were to be kept secret in order to keep them ahead of the competition and provide a great member experience. Her explanation and warm comforting tone put me at ease, and I signed all of the papers.
I was to start working the next day. I excitedly told my parents about the job when I got home. They were proud of me even though I had dropped out of college and supported my decision. Nothing could have gone more perfectly. This was going to be the stepping stone that would shoot me up the culinary chain of command. I was going to be an executive chef too one day. I was going to work at an upscale restaurant and command a staff of brilliant chefs under me. This was where it was going to start with me.
That night I was had plans to go out with my friends. I got ready to go and said bye to my parents. As I was walking out, I realized I could not find my wallet anywhere. I looked in my room, all over my house, and in my car. As I sat in my car, I realized I probably left it in the payroll office when I was filling out my paperwork. I called the main phone number of the Country Club and I got no answer. I didn't really expect an answer given that it was 10:30 PM. In one last ditch attempt I texted the chef and asked if the kitchen staff was still there or if anyone was there that could let me in to get my wallet. To my surprise, he responded. He told me that the payroll manager was there finishing up paperwork, and that he would give me her cell phone number. After a quick call and explanation, I was on my way back to the Country Club.
The night was dead silent. I got out of my car and stared at the entrance to the Club. It definitely looked more eerie at night. Kind of cool though: I loved scary settings. The inside of the Club was dimly lit. I opened the front door and took a seat while I waited for the payroll manager to attend to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement outside. It was a man standing in the parking lot about fifty feet away from the front door. He was pacing back and forth and looked a little conflicted. He leaned over with his hands on his knees, and then put his hands to his head and started pulling his hair. After standing up straight and composing himself, he looked directly into the door in my direct. Shit. He began walking to the door and finally burst through. I tensed up in fear. My hands clenched the seat. I was frozen. He looked directly into my eyes. Sweat dripped from his hair onto his dirty clothes. His eyes were bloodshot. This was not a man with good intentions.
He just stared at me. And I stared back, petrified. After about two seconds of the most terrifying staring contest in the world the payroll manager came out of her office. As soon as she saw the man, she dropped my wallet and some other papers to the ground.
"You... You shouldn't be here" She said, quivering. "You know there's nothing we can do for you." She inched closer to the receptionist's desk. The man just stared, panting heavily. I was freaking out. What the fuck did he want? "Marc, just leave. Leave now or I am going to call the police. Okay?"
The man did not flinch. She had finally reached the receptionists desk and I saw her back up onto it, now only a couple feet away from the man. Her hand slowly reached under the desk. A red and white light began flashing and an alarm pierced the silent and unsettling building. If I thought the alarm was bad, I was not prepared for what came next. The man opened his mouth and let out the most blood curdling scream. A shriek of pure terror. I had never heard anything like it. In what seemed like an instant, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a jagged hunting knife. He lunged on the payroll manager and with the ferocity of a rabid animal, he tore her to shreds. A bear could not have done worse.
I could not think in the moment. We all like to think that we would be a hero and jump to someone's rescue. But in a moment like that, our brains do not function properly. Any thought of heroism was instantly pushed out of my head by pure primal fear. I could not call the police. I could not think. I could not breathe. Gasping for air I just stared and listened to the horrific scene unfolding in front of me. The sounds of the knife piercing her skin. The sound of organs giving resistance to the jagged knife, then finally ripping. And the smell. The smell of copper filled my nose. The man finally stopped. He just stood there and stared at her. And then my heart stopped. He turned around and stared at me. Blood covered his entire body.
"You shouldn't be here. They are k-" he was cut short of whatever he was saying when the left side of his head burst open. I was so shocked by what was happening that I never noticed the armed security guards enter the room. I had not even heard the gunshot. And when his limp body fell to the ground, I just stared at the same point I was looking at when he was standing. The longer I stared the more the blurry wall began to morph from my disconnection from reality. I was finally shaken out of it by a security guard who was trying to get my attention. That's all I remember from that night before I blacked out.
Posted by u/orion151