“All right, hand me this notebook. I'll help you turn it into cash.”
Hearing Donald's words, Jonty remained skeptical.
Can he really get us cash based on this manually recorded attendance book alone?
Right then, the sound of the bell signaling mealtime echoed from the construction site's cafeteria.
By right, after a busy day, mealtime should be the happiest moment.
Yet, Jonty and the others didn't seem to have much enthusiasm.
Several workers even asked each other, “Are you eating today?”
Donald became even more bewildered as he listened from the side.
Everyone's doing manual labor here. How can they manage without eating?
As if seeing through Donald's doubts, Jonty explained, “The cafeteria on the construction site is contracted by Wilbur's sister-in-law. Since we can't leave, we have to get all three meals settled in this cafeteria daily.”
He sighed, continuing, “If the food in this cafeteria tasted better and had bigger portions, none of us would have any complaints. But the food here...”
Hearing that, Donald joined the line, curious to see what the food here was really like.
As there were not many people eating, it was soon his turn.
Upon laying his eyes on the dishes displayed before him, Donald almost threw up on the spot.
The meat dishes were beef and potato stew and pickled pigs' feet.
However, not only were the chunks of beef covered in white, sinewy tendons, but even the potatoes were all blackened and hard. With one glance, one would be able to tell they were clearly not made from fresh potatoes.
And then there was the pickled pigs' feet.
The pig's trotters still had mud and pig hair on them. Anyone in their right mind wouldn't eat such food.
How could this be a nourishing meal? This was basically torturing oneself.
“Hey! What exactly do you want to eat? Why are you standing here in silence?”
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