Seeing a table full of vegetables, the other troupe members began grumbling under their breath too.
Someone poked at the cabbage on their plate with a fork and muttered:
"The food's bad enough normally, and today it's potatoes, cabbage, and carrots again... We do hard physical labor. Do they really think we're beasts of burden?"
The people nearby nodded along. Someone simply set their fork on the edge of their plate with a metallic clink.
Mary, the middle-aged woman who ran the ticket booth, sat at the head of the table. She stood and eyed the cook suspiciously. "John, don't tell me you pocketed the money for the meat?"
John's face flushed crimson, and he shook his head vehemently.
"I've been cooking here for years. When have I ever skimmed anything? I really didn't steal the meat. I even recorded the weight of every piece in the ledger!"
Mary refused to let it go. Before the troupe members could start complaining about how the circus treated them, she aimed the blame at the cook.
"Whether you stole it or not, the meat disappeared right under your nose. Whose pay should we dock for it?"
John fell silent, then suddenly tore off his chef's hat and slammed it onto the table, as though he had finally snapped after enduring years of toil and hardship.
"Go ahead and dock every penny of my pathetic wages if you've got the guts! It wouldn't even pay for your half pound of beef anyway!"
He turned and walked out of the tent. No one stopped him, and no one said a word.
The atmosphere around the long table became as dry and lifeless as the cabbage without a drop of oil.
Mary sat back down and ordered everyone to stop complaining, finish eating, and go