Mexican Restaurant Lunch

Ellen and Andrew Rohm, a couple in their late-thirties, walked into the Burrito Picante for lunch, excited and happy. The restaurant had just opened its doors for the lunch crowd. “I just checked with the moving company. They’ll be here the day after tomorrow,” Andrew said.

Ellen held up the house keys and smiled. “Our first all new home. No one has ever lived in it before. We will write the first chapters in what will be a long history. I’m so excited.”

 The server walked up and placed chips and salsa on their table. “Would you like something to drink?”

 “I’ll take a Corona Light,” Andrew said.

 “A margarita for me.”  Ellen put the keys in her purse.

 The couple sat and enjoyed a leisurely lunch, including a second round of drinks. They talked about the future, full of hope and high expectations. Andrew, who would turn 40 in  a few months, was starting his own business, opening an insurance agency. Ellen, an orthodontist, was the family’s primary breadwinner. She recently took on a partner to help her expand her practice.       

 They spent some time talking about the four-bedroom, three bath home del Monico Custom Homes had built for them. “They gave us a very good deal,” Andrew said. “Maybe the interior isn’t top of the line, but the quality and workmanship were top notch.”

 They were feeling so good about completing their purchase, that they lingered, enjoying their second drink. As other patrons filled the restaurant, Ellen noticed a few familiar faces. “Oh, the men sitting behind you worked on our house.”

 Andrew turned briefly to get a look. “Are you sure?”

 “Of course, I’m sure. I visited our construction site enough times to know.”

 The couple finished their drinks while they checked their phones for messages. The server stopped by to see if he could get them anything else, hoping they’d ask for a check. Andrew didn’t disappoint him. “Yes, please.”

 “No wait,” Ellen said. “I’d like another margarita, please.”

 “Ellen, this is unprecedented., a three-margarita lunch,” Andrew said after the server left.

 “I’m watching those workers.. They’re drinking heavily, in my opinion.”

 “Define heavily.”

 “There are five men sitting at the table. They all ordered quart size bottles of beer when they arrived. And now, their server just brought five more quarts to them.”

 “So what?  You just ordered another margarita,” Andrew said, “That’s three.”

 “Andrew, I’m not building a house this afternoon. These men built ours. They are getting drunk. They probably worked on our home, soused, every afternoon.”

“Wait a minute, Ellen. How do you know they aren’t celebrating a special occasion, just like we are?” The server arrived to drop off the check. “Excuse me,” Andrew said. “The guys behind us; do they come here for lunch often?”

“Almost every day.”

 “Pardon me for asking, but do they always order two quarts of beer when they eat lunch here?” Ellen asked.

 “Pretty much, but they never give us a problem,” the server said.

 Ellen finished her drink in one long swallow. “I’m just so upset now.”

 “Slow down, dear. Remember, the house had to pass inspection before a certificate of occupancy could be granted. And, we just did a thorough walkthrough.”

 “What about the things we can’t see? The trusses and the plumbing, the electricity and the insulation? So many things could be wrong with that house. I say we go back to del Monico Custom Homes and tell them we are exercising our right to cancel. We have 72 hours,” she said.

 Andrew paid for lunch but he insisted on waiting until the men at the table behind them left. “Let’s follow them back to the development and see what they do. Maybe having a few drinks doesn’t affect their work.”

 “Are you crazy? These men shouldn’t even be driving,” she said. She took out her camera and took pictures of the men surreptitiously. Unfortunately, they quickly lost the men when they had to stop for a traffic light that seemed to stay red longer than it took Ellen to put braces on a patient’s teeth.    

 The couple drove back to the development’s model where less than two hours ago they’d bought their new home. “What did you forget?” asked Fran Harwell, the realtor who had sold them the home five months ago.

 “Nothing, we’re backing out,” Ellen said. She told the realtor what they’d seen and showed her the pictures she had taken.

 The realtor looked at each photo closely. “I’ve been working this development for six months. I don’t recognize these men.”

“Well, I do. I saw them working on our house. I came by every day to check on things.”

 “I see,” the realtor said. She picked up her phone and made a call. “I asked Tony, our project manager to come over. You met him.”

 Less than five minutes later, Tony Ramirez arrived. The realtor explained the problem and handed him Ellen’s phone so he could see the pictures. Tony, a man in his mid-fifties, studied the photos. “I know these men.”

 “Do they work for you?” Andrew asked.

 “Used to, but I had to let them go.”

 “Why?” Ellen asked.

 “I’m sorry, but that’s confidential, Mrs. Rohm. I can’t tell you that.”

 “I’m sure I know why anyway,” Ellen said, shaking her head. “Can you tell me when you fired them?”

 “At least eight months ago.”

 Andrew, trying to be supportive, spoke. “Are you sure it was that long ago, Tony?”

 “Definitely. Might have been even before then.”

Tony handed the phone back to Ellen. “I hope you’ll both be happy in your new home,” he said. He watched the couple leave. When they drove off, he turned to Fran and said, “I guess we all look alike to them.”

 Fran laughed and playfully tapped Tony’s arm. “You saying you don’t?”