Early hours of the day, all the staffers of Hoffers Food were well suited at the conference room. Heavy murmuring hung over them as they discussed nothing else other than the menace of the moment; the food poisoning and my intention to combat the endemic outbreak. Most of the staffers hailed my ambition while others nagged about my intention being all about a show of wealth.
In all of it, the conference hall became a murmuring ground as if innumerable bees had gathered. They murmured and wailed for the arrival of their boss, Hoffers Greenfield, who had passed a memo for meeting to all the staffers a day ago.
While swallowed in the gloom of arguments and discussion pairs of shoes could be heard knocking on the floor. And soon the knocking surged close, interfering into their discussion and making them realize the presence of a group of people approaching from the corridor.
Next the door to the conference creaked open on its own , for a tall, burly white-bearded well-shaven, short-haired man to prance in. A band of well-suited men helped him to open the door wider.
He was adorned in a polka-dotted suit, sleeves, blazers, cowboy hat and a thick-diamond necklace which filled up his neck. He looked nothing less than flamboyance.
All the while he stood at the door, arms pocketed and eyes combing around the conference room, his staffers sprang to their feet and greeted almost at once. “You are welcome, boss. A warm welcome to you, boss!”
He was Hoffers Greenfiled , one of my former bosses and the chairman of Hoffers Foods, the best , indigenous restaurant in Rio Hondo, and one of the best anywhere around the world.
Upon his arrival, the bickering among the staffers gradually died off as all eyes came upon their no-nonsense greed, wicked boss who could do anything to make you suffers pains and humiliation.
With a face that held no smile he groaned, “Thank you very much, my staff. You may be seated.” He started walking gently around the room as one of his securities who were flanked behind him warned everyone with his hostile face.
Immediately all the staffers sat down and brought their gaze upon him, he pointed to the projector screen and a crowd of victims of food poisoning appeared on the screen.
“I don’t need to remind you all the menace and pang of destruction that has stolen the better parts of food business in Rio Hondo,” Hoffers continued in a cautious hoarse voice that depicted more of pride, “A strange food poisoning hit the Rio Hondos hard and snatched lives beyond repair.”
The staffers shook their heads in agreement as they listened with dedicated rapt attention.
“As at this morning the daily death toll has risen to eighty five percent and it seems as though our little county is on the verge of closing up and going into extinction.” He paused and cast an inspective stare across the staffers before he spoke yet further. “How many of you listened to the news this morning?” he queried. And with his stare, counted the fingers that were raised.
More than a few fingers went up and he paused to count them with a nod.
“Okay I believe you saw the world richest man, in the person of Mike Don spend heavily on the eradication of this food poisoning. The young trillionaire is working tirelessly to ensure we have our county back. If not for Mike Don, we would probably have a cemetery and not Rio Hondo.” a strange smile came on his thick face before he beamed, “Can we please give a clapping ovation for Mike Don our very own world richest man!”
Would Hoffers Greenfield believe it if I should get to know that his once poor, ragged delivery boy, called Brian Patrick was the same Mike Don now?
Hoffers continued in a sonosrus tione which was possessed by rare excitemtn, “with a man like mike don, there is no call for alrm. We can be rest assured that rio hondon will be redeemed and evry thing would normalize again.’
The staffers opened a clapping ovation and stood to their feet when my picture was displayed on the screen.
“We love Mike Don! He is the man of the moment!” the staffers eulogized me and chanted happily with faces decked with smiles.
Hoffers Greenfield raised his hand and they quietened and sat down to listen to him, “You know Rio Hondo has great men and we are happy to have Rio Hondo produce the world richest man, who is not just cute but a generous, gentle man. In the days to come, we would host him at the Hoffers Foods.”
The staffers chanted, “Wow! It would be a privilege! We can’t wait to host him! It is going to be a remarkable moment with Mike Don!” heavy murmuring hung over them as they chanted among themselves.
Hoffers raised his hands over again and they keft mute. “Please, we all must be careful when handling foods. As you all know the food poisoning has been linked to restaurants. We don’t know the fate of restaurant and the food industry in Rio Hondo at the moment, but we believe Hoffers foods would never be implicated in any food poisoning because we are what?” he asked, demanding a response from them.
“The best!” the staffers responded in chant.
“Thank you! All hands must be on deck.” He continued, “No lackadaisical attitude is welcomed here. Everyone must go about his or her duty with passion and carefulness. Where is the delivery boy? He asked and once a young boy raised his hand, he warned, “You must be careful and apply hygiene when delivery foods to our customers. Don’t be unkempt dirty and ragged like my former delivery boy who calls himself Brian Patrick.”
The staffers laughed mockingly before Hoffers pointed at my pictures again, “this is the man of the moment!” he sounded.
“Mike Don! Mike Don! Mike don!” they chanted.
My vengeance loomed on.