Due to rising costs, I raised the price of cafeteria meals by 25 cents, which led to complaints. “School cafeterias are for little kids—they don’t even eat much. Why raise prices?” “How do we know the food he’s serving is fresh?” “This guy is just a greedy crook, trying to make money off us!” For the past three years, I’ve only used top-quality ingredients for school meals. I barely broke even, never making a single penny in profit. Now, I’m being labeled as greedy over 25 cents. I’m done. I won’t manage the cafeteria anymore. Months later, those same parents showed up at my restaurant. “Walter Monroe, we’re begging you to come back!” Content I was called into a meeting. Some parents had reported me to the District School Board, accusing me of price-gouging and serving stale food. They demanded the school terminate my cafeteria contract. When Ms. Helen Whitaker, the school director, told me this, she admitted she thought the accusations were baseless. “Ever since you took over the cafeteria, you’ve been using fresh ingredients, getting up before dawn to pick them out yourself. You’ve always prioritized the kids’ health with balanced meals. And now they’re calling you a greedy crook?” “The parents are adamant,” Helen said with a sigh. “They said if we keep you as the cafeteria contractor, they’ll cause a scene daily.” Her words left me fuming. Helen glanced at me with an all-too-knowing look. “Walter, we’ve got hundreds of students here. Adding 25 cents to every dish must be raking in quite a bit. Don’t be too greedy.” This was absurd. My temper flared. “Helen—” She waved me off impatiently. “Go home. We’ll discuss this at the next board meeting.” I stewed over her dismissive attitude all night. The next day, I stood firm. The prices stayed raised by 25 cents. Helen stormed into the cafeteria that morning. “Walter Monroe! Didn’t we just discuss this? Why haven’t you reversed the price increase? The parents are in an uproar!” She thrust her phone in my face, showing me messages from the PTA Chat Group. Calvin Bradshaw Sr. was leading the charge: “Why are the meal prices still raised? Is the administration ignoring our feedback?” Marissa Collins chimed in: “The cafeteria at Riverbend Charter Academy charges less! Walter Monroe is just a greedy crook!” Tamara Caldwell was more aggressive: “If the school doesn’t handle this, we’ll escalate to the District School Board. Let’s see how they explain letting this slide!” I scrolled through their messages, speechless. I hadn’t raised prices once in three years. At best, I barely broke even after covering costs. My family had been urging me to quit this contract for years. But I stuck with it because these were kids. As long as I wasn’t losing money, I thought I would ensure they had healthy meals. Was worth it And yet, here I was—labeled greedy over a measly 25 cents. The parents could easily spend hundreds on a meal at a fancy restaurant. How could they lose their minds over a quarter? I told Helen to add me to the PTA Chat Group. If they wanted answers, I’d give them. Walter Monroe: “Dear parents, Due to rising costs, I had to raise prices by 25 cents to continue serving fresh and healthy meals. If you think I’m lying, please visit Hillside Farmer’s Market and check prices yourself.” The backlash was swift. Calvin Bradshaw Sr.: “Please. Everyone at the market knows you—they’d never tell us the truth. You’re all in on it together.” His comment unleashed a flurry of agreement. Marissa Collins: “Exactly! He’s colluding with the vendors to scam us!” Benjamin Harper: “I doubt the food is even that fresh. It can’t cost much to make those meals.” Tamara Caldwell: “Three years with no price changes, and now this? Something’s fishy. We only agreed to let him run the cafeteria because the food seemed decent then.” I kept trying to explain. Walter Monroe: “Parents, the price increase is solely due to rising costs. Even with the change, a vegetable dish costs $1, and a meat dish $2.50. That’s still incredibly cheap.” “I haven’t earned a cent in profit over three years. I only raised prices because I couldn’t sustain it anymore.” But Calvin shot back: “Spare us the sob story. If you didn’t make money, why keep the cafeteria? Who knows how much ‘black-hearted’ money you’ve already pocketed.”
I wanted to punch something. It was impossible to reason with people like Calvin. Running the cafeteria was all about conscience, not profit. For three years, I hadn’t earned a dime. I got up before sunrise every morning, trudged to Hillside Farmer’s Market, and haggled with vendors over pennies to get the freshest ingredients. My days were an endless cycle of chopping, cooking, sanitizing dishes, serving meals, and scrubbing everything clean—leaving me so exhausted I could barely stand. Sure, I could cut corners. I could use bulk suppliers or cheap frozen meat to lower costs. But how could I serve kids subpar food? Did they think I was going through all this trouble just to earn 25 cents per plate? Meanwhile, the PTA Chat Group kept piling on. “I Cafeteriaontracts rake in at least $15,000 a year.” “No wonder he’s so desperate to stay on. No way he’s losing money.” “He probably feeds the kids garbage just to make a buck!” “Kick him out already!” Their ridiculous accusations almost made me laugh. Their creativity in twisting facts was impressive. I had the skills and integrity to run a successful restaurant. Managing the school cafeteria was a passion project, not a cash grab. And yet, here I was—painted as a villain. Some parents defended me. “It’s normal for meal prices to go up. Everything’s getting more expensive.” “Walter’s just trying to make a living like anyone else. Twenty-five cents isn’t much.” But others drowned them out with more venom. “If it’s so cheap, why don’t you cover the cost for all our kids?” “Other schools haven’t raised prices—why should he?” “What makes his cafeteria so special?” No matter what I said, it was brushed aside. They didn’t realize most cafeterias reused leftover food as long as it wasn’t spoiled. For three years, I’d only served fresh meals. Not once had I compromised on quality. Students who wanted seconds always got them for free, as long as they didn’t waste food. I’d done everything possible to ensure these kids ate well and stayed healthy. But to these parents, I was just a greedy crook. Fine. I’d had enough. “Fresh food? Balanced nutrition? If you think I’m greedy over 25 cents, don’t expect me to care about any of that anymore!” I snapped in the chat. The group exploded. “You can’t do that! These are kids—nutrition is critical!” “How can they study if they’re not eating well?” “We want our kids to thrive! That’s your responsibility!” Helen tapped my shoulder, signaling me to calm down. I swallowed my rage and typed a final message. Walter Monroe: “I guarantee the 25-cent increase is only to cover rising costs. I’m not profiting at all. Please trust me—I’ll ensure your kids are well-fed and healthy.” Calvin’s response cut deep. “If you’re not profiting, why are you so desperate to stay? Are you planning to take it out on the kids?” That was it. I was done. “I won’t manage this cafeteria anymore.”
Ms. Helen Whitaker tried to smooth things over in the PTA Chat Group. “Parents, I can assure you that this incident was Walter Monroe’s mistake. I will personally oversee his work moving forward. Let’s give him a chance to make things right.” She even posted a public reprimand and attached a written apology I had to draft. That seemed to settle things—for a while. But just a few days later, chaos erupted again. A group of furious parents stormed into the cafeteria. Calvin Bradshaw Sr., as usual, led the charge. “I knew it! You’re not just greedy—you’re trying to take revenge on us by poisoning our kids!” “Let’s trash this place!” he bellowed. “Make him pay for what he’s done!” Without hesitation, they began smashing chairs, tables, and kitchen equipment, leaving the cafeteria in complete disarray. I ran to intervene, but Calvin shoved me to the ground. He grabbed my shirt collar and waved a paper in my face, his anger boiling. “My kid came home yesterday throwing up and having diarrhea after eating here. The hospital confirmed it—food poisoning!” Tamara Caldwell shrieked, “My daughter Lila had a stomachache too. Same diagnosis—food poisoning. We’re not letting this monster off the hook!” Before I could respond, Calvin swung at me, landing a solid punch. Other parents joined in the attack. My pregnant wife, Lydia, tried to pull them off me, only to be shoved aside. Seeing her stumble, I lost it. I pushed them back and shielded her. “I’m calling the police. None of you are getting away with this.” That stopped them in their tracks. Benjamin Harper sneered, “Fine! Call them! Let’s see who the cops believe—you or us. Your poison food hasn’t been accounted for yet.” I wasn’t worried. I handpicked yesterday’s ingredients, ensuring everything was fresh. Moreover, I always kept meal samples for safety inspections. “Accusing me of poisoning your kids? Do you have proof? There are hundreds of students eating here every day—why is it just your kids who got sick? You’re just making this up to scam me for money!” I shot back. “In three years of running this cafeteria, no one has reported food poisoning. Every health inspection has been spotless.” Calvin thrust the paper in my face. “My kid didn’t eat anything else after leaving school. It had to be your food.” He turned to the other parents. “Isn’t that right? The kids ate here and went straight home—nothing else. Who’s with me?” The crowd rallied behind him, voices rising in agreement. Marissa Collins added, “Think about it! Our kids eat here every day. Can you trust this guy anymore?” Their accusations ignited a mob mentality. I stared Marissa down. “Can you swear your kid ate nothing on the way home? Any snacks, a drink from somewhere? Are you all 100% certain the cafeteria is to blame?” I didn’t wait for a reply. “I’ve already called the police and the health department. We’re getting to the bottom of this—and I’m holding everyone accountable.”
Shortly after, the police and the health inspectors arrived. We all headed to the Health Inspection Agency for testing and questioning. The results came back quickly: the cafeteria’s food was perfectly safe. Calvin Bradshaw Sr. sheepishly approached me, wringing his hands. “Walter, I was just worried about my kid. You know how it is—I overreacted. Don’t take it personally.” Marissa Collins chimed in with a saccharine smile. “Walter, you’re about to become a dad yourself. Sure, you understand our panic. We didn’t mean to take it so far.” Oh, so now they wanted to play nice? Not a chance. “I filed the police report, and you smashed up my cafeteria. I expect full compensation for the damages and a formal apology.” They froze, stunned that I wasn’t backing down. Calvin tried to rally the group. “Our kids got sick from his food! Isn’t that right, everyone?” Benjamin Harper loudly agreed, shooting knowing glances around. The parents quickly fell in line, insisting the cafeteria caused their kids’ illnesses. Their coordinated lies were laughable, but the police didn’t buy them. After some investigation, the real story emerged. The doctor treating their children explained, “This isn’t food poisoning. The children drank contaminated water—likely from the nearby creek.” The parents’ bravado faltered. Calvin weakly protested, “But they drank the school’s water…” I didn’t let him finish. “The cafeteria uses the school’s water supply. You should take it up with the school if you think it’s contaminated. Don’t pin this on me.” The police pressed further and learned the truth: the kids had a water-drinking water-drinking creek. after school “Now that we’ve established the cause, let’s address the damages to the cafeteria,” the officer said firmly. My wife, Lydia, handed over an itemized list of everything they’d broken. The parents grudgingly paid for the repairs. Despite the compensation, my heart sank as I surveyed the wreckage. Cleaning up the mess would take hours, and the students would be left without meals for the day. Thankfully, it was a weekend. Then Helen showed up. “Walter, how could you demand money from the parents? You need to return it immediately.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Helen, I haven’t made a single cent running this cafeteria. If you want me to return the money, you must cover my losses yourself.” She glared at me. “Walter, if you want to keep running this cafeteria, you’ll have to suck it up. Even if they’d beaten you to a pulp, you’d have to take it.” That was the last straw. “There are six months left on my contract. I’ll pay the penalty for breaking it early, but I’m done.”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295184”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn #校园School #励志Inspiring
Leave a Reply