I dressed like a homeless man and walked into my own restaurant to see how my employees treated people who couldn’t afford a decent meal. I expected some unfriendly attitudes and perhaps a few rude remarks. Instead, I uncovered something so alarming that I eventually had to contact the police

“He and Brittany, the new hostess, turn people away even when tables are empty. Sometimes they seat older customers beside the bathrooms and deliberately ignore them.”

My stomach tightened.

“What about the free-meal jar?”

Hector looked at me sadly.

“Ray, Trevor removed it months ago.”

I stared at him.

“What?”

“He said it made the place look cheap. There was nearly three hundred dollars inside. He claimed it went into the restaurant’s general funds.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Hector lowered his eyes.

“I tried. I called you in March. You said you were busy and would call back.”

I couldn’t remember that conversation.

He continued.

“Afterward, Trevor warned me not to contact you again. He said someone my age wouldn’t easily find another job.”

Hector had two grandchildren living with him.

He couldn’t risk losing his income.

I rested a hand on his shoulder.