NEW YORK – 12 DECEMBER
Enrica Rodriguez balanced her sleeping two-year-old daughter Kayla on her hip as she pulled the door of her Ridgefield bedsit closed. It was 6.50 a.m., still dark, and very cold.
‘I’m sorry, honey. I know it’s not fair.’ She hated this horrible routine of pulling her sleeping daughter out of her bed every morning, just so she could get her into the crèche as soon as it opened. She felt guilty about leaving her kid all day, but the most important thing was trying to hold on to her new job with the Department of Health. As a single mom, what else could she do? And Kayla’s father had turned out to be a user. No maintenance again this month. Asshole!
At least the Department’s head office wasn’t too far away, just across the George Washington Bridge on 168th Street. Once she had given Kayla a last sad hug at the crèche, it was just a few stops on the subway. The next few days were going to be crazy busy though, with this suspected food poisoning. They were all being promised overtime, which she needed badly, but she was going to need a lot of help from her mom and her asshole ex, if she was going to work late.
At the office, Enrica collected a few packs of plastic containers, plastic bags, what they called ‘standardisation workbooks’, labels and thermometers. She had been assigned to check out a sample of BurgerFantastic restaurants. Ideally, you were supposed to get as wide a geographical sample as possible, but she had a plan to inspect maybe six restaurants that day, and to finish up in Upper Manhattan, close to the office – and to home.
At 9 a.m. her cell phone rang. ‘Enrica, you’re not returning my calls. Your rent is five weeks late.’
‘I’m so sorry, Mr Dickersen. I’m working overtime now and I’ll have it all for you, end of next week. Promise.’
‘This is your very last chance, Enrica. If you don’t pay, you’re going to have to leave. I have my own costs to cover.’
‘I promise. I won’t let you down again.’ Jesus, give me a break.
Her first call was to the BurgerFantastic restaurant on West 165th Street. It was packed with customers. She walked around the counter. ‘Hi,’ she said, showing her ID to a member of staff. ‘Can I see the manager please?’
Five minutes later she was in the cooking area, being shown around by the manager, who was well used to Department of Health inspections.
‘My priority today is to take away some samples,’ she said. ‘I won’t be doing a full inspection.’
‘Sure. No problem,’ said the manager. ‘Take anything you like. And if you’re hungry, then lunch is on us.’
‘No need for that, thanks.’ Against the rules anyway.
Enrica had a quick look around the kitchens and the storage area. Spotless as usual.
She began taking the temperatures of pieces of chicken, lamb, pork and beef burgers in the cold holding area, and then again after cooking. She was testing a cooked burger, 155 degrees, A-okay, when her phone rang. At last. She took the call.
‘Pablo.’
‘Wassup, baby?’
‘What’s up is I need to work late. I need you to pick up Kayla at seven.’
‘Oh, sorry, baby. I can’t do that. I got sumthin’ on.’
‘You gonna tell me you got a job?’
‘No. Just plans. Know what I mean?’
‘Like plans to start paying maintenance for your daughter?’
‘Don’t be like that, baby. You know I’ll make it up when I get a job.’
‘Whatever.’ Jesus. She ended the call and tried her mother. Straight to voicemail.
She ticked a few boxes on the FDA workbook and put samples of meat into plastic bags. She sealed them and started writing out labels for each bag. Her phone rang.
‘Ms Rodriguez. I’m with the New York Gas Company and I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut off your supply if your account isn’t paid.’
Jesus Christ. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll have it at the end of the month.’
‘I hope so, Ms Rodriguez.’
She tried her mother again. Voicemail. Shit!
She decided to put samples of lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and pickles in bags too. Then she repeated the routine in five other BurgerFantastics in midtown that day and brought the samples to the analysts, or the ‘disease doctors’ as they are known at the Department. She just made it to the crèche by 7 p.m. to pick up Kayla.