#who could have ruin my career if the inspector had been less understanding

[phytine]

It has been hours and my wrath did not go down. So at this point I need to vent.

I have two classes of 12 yo students. One is cool, they chit-chat a bit but nothing terrible. Then there is the other one. I thought it was getting better. They are generally nasty, do not want to do anything but little by little I thought we were getting better.

I had an inspection today. They knew I was having one. They were horrible. On purpose. They almost fight each other, threw pencil, try to draw on each other face, made funny face to the inspector.

And they did it on purpose. Because they are too dumb to be discreet and an other teacher heard them saying that they were going to do the worst things possible for my inspection.

At first I was just down because you know, there is always this idea that maybe if I had done this or that... but after this I was just so angry. So so angry.

Because yeah, they are 12. But they knew it was important for me, for my career. And yet, they decided to but the utter worst for the occasion. Since then I am so angry. It has been like 10 hours and I still feel wrath like it has been a long time I have felt it.

I am having class with them tomorrow and there will have punishment because you know, the inspector saw the problem was them. But I don't know how to face them given how fucking angry I am.

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

Fast Times at Konoha High

This was supposed to be a drabble, but like everything else I touch it got totally out of hand. It’s inspired by some really pretty art of grumpy janitor Obito by @glas-onion-nard​ which you should definitely check out. Thank you so much for letting me write this Jay! (and no pressure at all to like it - I just had fun working on something completely different for a day). 

‘Can anyone tell me who Konoha’s founder was?’

A room full of less-than enthusiastic faces stares back at him and Kakashi breathes out a long sigh. Is it just his imagination, or is the ceiling light above his desk flickering? He wouldn’t mind if it is, though realistically it’s probably just wishful thinking. The bulbs were changed only two weeks ago after all.

‘No one?’ he prompts again, already anticipating the answer - or lack thereof.

Late-afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, shades of warm amber and gold. The question plays out just as Kakashi expected – blank faces and disinterest - and not for the first time, he wonders why he bothers. It’s clearly one of those days. The classroom looks deader than the staff party last Christmas – wrapped up by nine pm without so much as a single inappropriate drunken speech. Kakashi’s been to more exciting funerals. But it is nearly home-time on a Friday, so he can’t exactly blame them.

The bell rings, and the kids come alive like someone’s electrified the floor beneath them. ‘Alright,’ Kakashi calls out over the screech of chairs over wood, the clatter of stationary and books being zipped into bags, ‘Make sure you read that chapter this weekend, because anyone who doesn’t know the answer by Monday is definitely going to fail the test. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.’

‘Yes Mr. Hatake,’ they intone as one.

He smiles just a little bit at that. Enthusiastic or not, it’s still nice to hear his name spoken the same way as the teachers he remembers. After all, they’re what inspired him to pursue this career. They made a difference, even if he didn’t always appreciate it at the time.

‘Have a good weekend,’ he says as they file out, one by one.

Typically, Sasuke lingers in the corner, slow to leave again, and Kakashi makes a mental note to talk to Gai about him. It’s nothing more than a fleeting suspicion, but he gets the feeling all might not be right at home with him. He’s never been good at broaching that kind of thing with students himself, but surely the ever-cheerful guidance counsellor will know what to do.

A giggle from the corner of the classroom alerts him to the ongoing presence of Sakura - the quiet achiever of the class, and most enthusiastic member of Sasuke’s fan club. Kakashi will never understand what all the girls see in him – something about the mysterious, troubled, brooding type maybe – but wherever he goes, she goes. And where she goes-

A stack of books tips over at the back of the room.

‘Naruto you dunce!’ Sakura exclaims loudly, directing a scowl at the clumsy blond boy, then glancing back toward Sasuke for approval.

Kakashi wants to slap his palm over his face. They’re the worst, most oblivious, most patience-trying love triangle ever, and some days he just wishes he could-

The door to the classroom opens and his head snaps around, eyes drawn to it, hoping.

A man trudges in, stepladder under one arm, and brown cardboard box in other. He’s wearing a faded blue uniform, an eye patch, and an expression that can only be described as cantankerous. Or unreasonably grouchy. Or any other of a thesaurus-full of variations on the theme that Kakashi might care to apply. Like being here is utterly ruining his day, and he knows exactly who he blames it on.

Kakashi tries very hard not to swoon.

‘Hatake,’ the janitor growls, unimpressed.

There’s something oddly appealing about the way it sounds in his rough, gravelly tone though. ‘Obito,’ Kakashi replies warmly, suppressing the smile that wants to break through his careful mask of composure.

‘I presume you have something to complain about.’ Obito dumps the ladder on the floor. ‘Since you always do. Air conditioning again maybe. Or another squeaky door?’

‘Actually I think that light above my desk is flickering again,’ Kakashi says evenly.

‘Really?’ Obito drawls, one narrowed eye assessing him like he doesn’t believe it for a second. ‘Because I only changed the bulbs in it two weeks ago. The last time you complained,’ he adds snidely.

Kakashi holds out his hands, placating. ‘Maa, I can’t help it if the school doesn’t have the budget to look after these things properly.’

Obito breathes out through his nose, looking for all the world like he might hit Kakashi with the box he’s carrying. But instead he just rolls his eye, holding the box up. ‘Well, aren’t you lucky I brought replacement bulbs with me then?’

Kakashi actually smiles at that, bright and genuine. ‘That is lucky,’ he says, feeling a familiar flutter rising in his chest. He tries to lean casually against his desk, but it’s lot further away than he realised. Overbalancing, he flails gracelessly into thin air for a couple of seconds, then steps into a clumsy recovery, coughing awkwardly and trying to pass the whole thing off as intentional.

The wry expression and raised eyebrow suggest Obito’s not buying it though. He snorts sharply, something like amusement – or certainly the closest Kakashi’s ever seen - passing over his face, then drags his ladder toward the light in question, shaking his head.

The second he looks away, Kakashi sags against the desk. God he’s such an idiot. A completely hopeless mess whenever Obito’s around. Though in his defence, Obito does seem to be all Kakashi’s weaknesses rolled up into one man – and undoubtedly the most interesting person in this place. His past is a complete mystery, and regular topic of discussion in the staff-room over lunch. Ex-criminal, undercover secret agent, education ministry inspector – you name it, it’s probably been suggested. Although personally, Kakashi doubts any of them are right.

In any case, he just can’t seem to stay away from the man, and it’s caused the number of maintenance complaints he makes to skyrocket. A couple of really juicy issues, and he has a good excuse to stick around chatting to Obito for at least half an hour on Friday afternoons when he does his weekly rounds of the school. It’s made them Kakashi’s favourite day of the week.

‘So,’ he says, hoping to recover some of his lost dignity. ‘Do you have any plans for tonight?’

Obito pauses screwing in the light bulb momentarily to scowl at him. ‘Do I look like I have any plans?’

Ok… so maybe that was a bad question.

Kakashi bites his lip, distracted as Sasuke saunters past without the slightest acknowledgement. There really is something about the kid’s attitude that’s just not right and he probably should-

‘Naruto, don’t!’ Sakura exclaims.

Kakashi looks up just in time to see Naruto’s fingers slip off the spare bulb in Obito’s box, expression one of foiled mischief as Sakura drags him back by a shoulder.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she says to the janitor, looking terrified.

Naruto grins ridiculously, not the least bit put off by this change to his plans.

Obito glares at them both, expression exuding barely-contained menace. It’s enough to make Kakashi reconsider that suggestion about possible past criminality, and he knows it should probably concern him, but it’s also unreasonably attractive…

With a nervous laugh, Sakura tugs Naruto toward the door. ‘Come on,’ she entreats, as he refuses to budge, staring between Kakashi and Obito with the oddest expression on his face, like he’s just realised something terribly important.

Kakashi tears his eyes away from Obito (though that’s hard, because the view is very good) and pushes off his desk. ‘Time to head home Naruto. Mr. Uchiha needs space to do his job, and your parents will be expecting you.’

Still reluctant, Naruto pokes his tongue out at the janitor’s back, then much to Kakashi’s relief, follows Sakura to the door. That’s… less pushback than he was expecting.

But just before he gets there, and just when Kakashi thinks he’s home free, with Obito to himself for a whole few glorious minutes, Naruto pauses, fixing Kakashi with a terrifying grin and asking loudly enough that no-one - least of all the janitor perched on the ladder at the front of the room – could possibly miss it, ‘Do you want to be alone so you can finally ask him on a date Mr. Hatake!?’  

Teach children they said. It’ll be a rewarding career they said.

Well whoever they were, they obviously hadn’t accounted for Naruto.

Kakashi’s face feels like it’s on fire, Obito’s shoulders have stiffened and Kakashi just knows he’s heard. It makes him want to bolt straight out of the room. Anything to avoid having to explain to Obito, who - if he hadn’t realised before why so many things always break in Kakashi’s classroom – must surely understand by now.

‘Naruto!’ Sakura gasps. ‘I’m so sorry Mr. Hatake.’

Gritting his teeth, Kakashi smiles at her. ‘It’s alright Sakura. I hope both of you have a good weekend.’

‘Er… you too,’ she says with a final horrified glance at Obito - still frozen on the ladder - before dragging Naruto out.

Kakashi can hear her admonishing him all the way down the hall. Not that that helps him.

There’s a completely dead, stony silence. Kakashi swallows, wondering what he can possibly say to talk his way out of this. It’s all he can do not to just run away right now. As much as he likes Obito, he’s never imagined actually telling him how he feels, more than content to just admire from afar. But the way things have gone he has to say something.

‘Obito…’ he croaks out, name sticking in a too-dry throat. ‘I can explain.’

Almost in slow motion, Obito turns. His eye sweeps across Kakashi’s face, no doubt taking in the particular shade of red Kakashi knows he’s sporting. The nervous tongue that flicks traitorously across his lips, betraying the truth behind Naruto’s words.

‘Is it true?’ Obito asks flatly.

Kakashi’s resolve crumbles before the other man’s gaze. His eyes drop to the floor between his feet and he sucks in a deep breath, feeling like nothing in the world can prepare him for what he’s about to say. ‘I… yes, it is. I like you Obito. But I’d never… not if you didn’t want to…’

He trails off, unsure how to finish, and hating the deathly silence that fills the space between them. The heat in his face is spreading outward now, creeping along the tips of his ears and down his neck. Shifting uncomfortably, he scuffs at the floor with a toe.

There’s a noise that sounds suspiciously like someone clearing their throat. Steeling himself to face the music, Kakashi looks up. Obito’s still staring at him, but his expression is a lot less deadpan than before. Now there are tiny creases around his mouth and eyes, and if Kakashi didn’t know better, he’d say the janitor looks almost… amused. It’s not enough to make Kakashi relax, but it is far better than he was expecting.

Obito grunts, glancing at the box in his hands. ‘So tell me… should I finish changing these bulbs, or not?’

‘Um…’ Kakashi runs a hand through his hair nervously. Might as well come clean about everything, considering. ‘You probably don’t need to. Sorry… about that.’

Obito nods slowly. He steps back down to the floor, appearing lost in thought as he folds up the ladder. He’s taking this remarkably well. So well, Kakashi has almost begun to think he might be able to breathe again. That he might actually get away with this being one of those embarrassing incidents that they both agree (by omission) to pretend never happened. It’s probably the best he can hope for, realistically.

But Obito stops right in front of him on his way to the door. ‘You know,’ he muses, like he’s trying out each word before he actually says it. ‘I don’t have any plans tonight. But I could.’

Kakashi’s heart leaps into his throat. ‘Are you asking me… on a date?’ he squeaks.

The janitor’s mouth quirks subtly upward, slight but unmistakeable this time. ‘No. You asked first. I’m just telling you I accept.’

The noise that escapes Kakashi’s throat is almost embarrassing in it’s enthusiasm. This is not at all what he was expecting.

It’s so, so much better.

‘Do you like music?’ he hears himself babbling. ‘There’s a live band playing at my favourite bar in town tonight. Maybe we could go?’

‘Sure, that sounds fun.’

Kakashi resists the urge to punch the air. ‘I can pick you up at five?’ he suggests, aiming for cool and collected, but landing a lot closer to breathy and excited. There’s a smile plastered across his face, he just knows it, and from the way Obito’s eyes are lingering over his lips, he hasn’t failed to notice it.

‘I finish at six,’ the janitor says, wry but not displeased. ‘You can pick me up then. Assuming you don’t have anything else that needs fixing while I’m here?’

Kakashi blushes again. He’s probably never going to live that down. ‘Yeah uh… I’m pretty sure everything is working fine now, thanks.’

There’s an obvious smirk on Obito’s face, and it’s edging rapidly toward smug. ‘Funny that. I’ll see you at six then.’

‘Yeah… see you then.’

As soon as Obito leaves the room, Kakashi really does punch the air. Best day ever! And all thanks to Naruto’s inability to keep his mouth shut. Who’d have thought?

Minutes later he saunters from the classroom, drawing stares from his colleagues as he waltzes past them in a hazy dream-like state, whistling cheerfully.

Let them wonder. He’s got a hot date to prepare for, and he’s pretty sure it’ll be the talk of the school in due course.

But for now at least, it’s going to be a great start to the weekend.  

***

The mop seems to float, weightless in his hands, as Obito works his way down the hall, keeping a watchful eye on the time. If anyone had asked him earlier today why he thought Mr. Hatake from homeroom six was always finding so many issues with the school facilities, he would have said the man did it just to spite him.

Instead, it turns out he’s just a pervert who can’t resist the view of Obito’s ass halfway up a ladder as he changes the light bulbs. Who’d have thought?

Not that he’s complaining. There was a lot to like about the way Hatake’s stupid handsome face lit up at least five different shades of crimson when he realised Obito knew. Just the sort of gay disaster Obito’s never been able to resist.

He hums to himself, mopping right over patches of floor-bound chewing gum that would usually render him irate.

Only one hour to go, then he’s going to find out just how deep a shade of red Hatake can actually blush. Maybe even what’s behind that stupid mask of his.

Obito grins at the thought. It’s going to be a good weekend after all.

[deniscollins]

Subway Got Too Big. Franchisees Paid a Price.

Subway’s franchise contract forbids the company from unilaterally closing stores just because sales are weak. But franchisees can lose control of their restaurants for failing to meet Subway’s operating standards — violations cited by inspectors employed by development agents. What would you do if you were instructed by a Subway development agent to cite as many minor violations as possible (a hand print on door, light bulb burnt out) for a floundering franchisee so the development agent could take over the business: (1) cite minor violations, (2) refuse to cite minor violations? Why? What are the ethics underlying your decision?

Manoj Tripathi couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had a vendetta against his Subway sandwich shop. A franchisee for nearly two decades, he had done everything he could to keep his restaurant, in a strip mall in Northern California, in perfect condition. But lately it seemed like someone was out to get him.

It was the middle of 2017, and inspectors sent by Subway’s regional manager were finding a new problem to cite each month: a handprint on the glass door, the wrong brand of bathroom soap, cucumber slices that were too thick, he said. They seemed to be little things, but with each write-up, Mr. Tripathi’s grip on his store weakened. If he racked up enough infractions, Subway could terminate his contract and take control of the business.

When an inspector named Rebecca Husler arrived one day that September, Mr. Tripathi thought his restaurant was pristine. Then he noticed that a single light fixture needed a new bulb. Mr. Tripathi rushed out to buy a replacement, but by the time he returned, Ms. Husler had marked it as a violation. A year later, just as he feared, he lost the Subway.

Mr. Tripathi wasn’t paranoid. Ms. Husler really was out to get him. She had specific instructions from her boss, the regional Subway supervisor, to find fault with the store, she said in an interview.

“I was kind of his hit man,” she said, sipping an iced tea at a Starbucks in the Bay Area. Ms. Husler worked for the regional supervisor for nearly a year, she said, and she has come to regret the role she played in pushing a group of store owners out of their investments. The light-bulb moment with Mr. Tripathi, especially, gave her pause. “We’re ruining these people,” she said.

Subway is the largest fast-food company in the world by store count, with more than 24,000 restaurants in the United States alone. It got that way thanks in large part to entrepreneurial immigrants. Unlike at chains such as McDonald’s and Burger King, where many franchises are operated by investment firms, Subway owners are mostly individuals and families. The company’s co-founder, Fred DeLuca, made stores easy to open; most new franchisees are charged a $15,000 initial fee, compared to $45,000 at McDonald’s. In exchange, Subway operators must hand over more revenue than at many other chains — 8 percent of gross sales — while also agreeing to other fees and stipulations.

For half a century, the system worked to mutual advantage. Subway’s value hit $12.3 billion, and countless first-generation Americans bootstrapped their way to success, one foot-long at a time.

By the time Mr. DeLuca died in 2015, though, the company was struggling. Rivals like Jimmy John’s and Quiznos had grown, and Subway’s spokesman, Jared Fogle, pleaded guilty to child sex and pornography charges. Mr. DeLuca’s sister, Suzanne Greco, took over as chief executive, inheriting a company that many felt had grown too fast and haphazardly. In 2016, for the first time ever, more Subway stores closed than opened. But while many franchisees shut down because of underperformance, others operating profitable locations began to feel targeted, too.

‘My blood is boiling’

For many owners, Subway’s internal workings are a mystery. The chain, which is private, offers far less financial information than other global fast-food peers. In the most recent version of a disclosure document given to prospective franchisees, which is more than 600 pages long, the company notes that it can revise its rules “at any time during the term of your Franchise Agreement under any condition and to any extent.”

The document would be difficult for anyone to process. But Alexander Dembski, who trained many new Subway owners over a 34-year career, estimated to Fortune in 1998 that 30 to 50 percent of the chain’s franchisees were immigrants, and that more than a third of applicants scored poorly on proficiency tests in math and English.

Before his death, Mr. DeLuca was accused of using bullying tactics that left many operators struggling to recoup their investments, leading to lawsuits, regulatory run-ins, government investigations and constant complaints from franchisees. One of the most persistent areas of protest has involved a class of Subway managers known as development agents.

Subway parcels its vast network of stores into more than 100 regional fiefs. Each is overseen by a development agent, who recruits new franchisees, approves buyers for existing stores and sends inspectors — known as field consultants — to conduct monthly reviews. But usually, development agents are also franchisees themselves. When that is the case, they are both in charge of and competing with other store operators, and their own locations are inspected by people they hire.

These feel like conflicts of interest to many Subway owners — giving development agents the means and motivation to shut down competing stores and take over profitable ones by manipulating inspections. Many franchisees who have lost their restaurants say that they have recouped little of their original investments. Intervention from Subway’s headquarters in Connecticut is rare.

Don Fertman, Subway’s chief development officer and a veteran of the company for 38 years, said that owning restaurants helps give development agents “a better understanding of all aspects of owning a small business.” He said the company reviews the agents’ work and expects them to uphold ethical standards, dealing with violations “on a case-by-case basis.”

Across the country, franchisees have lodged complaints and filed lawsuits. In West Virginia, Bhrugesh and Utpala Vyas ran three stores, two of them top performers in the territory, they said. In a 2017 filing in federal court in Connecticut, Ms. Vyas accused the local development agent, the man’s son and an inspector of conspiring to take over the stores by concocting “unreasonably harsh evaluations.”

A judge ruled against Ms. Vyas. Records from local health departments and Subway show that at least two of the stores are now co-owned by the inspector and the development agent. “I feel very bad, and my blood is boiling,” Mr. Vyas said in an interview. “This was our hard-earned money.”

Mr. Fertman said that complaints like those Mr. Vyas filed are “unfounded,” and that Subway “makes every effort” to help noncompliant franchisees improve. He added that the company is “in the business of selling sandwiches — not closing restaurants, not marking people out of compliance.”

“Our business development agents are well-respected members of our business community,” he said. “And when we hear these allegations, I would say that they are false.” He said he was not aware of any exceptions.

For years, the Subway system’s opacity and aggressive pace of development — Mr. DeLuca once dreamed of opening 50,000 stores by 2017 — went hand in hand. The company encouraged stores to open within blocks of existing locations, with development agents often giving the established franchisees a choice: Operate the new restaurant themselves, or compete with someone recruited by Subway. Franchisees, feeling pressured, sometimes took the first option.

“It was assumed that the stores would, eventually, become sustainable,” Mr. Tripathi said. An immigrant from India, he bought into Subway’s expansion in a major way. After two decades spent at companies like Jamba Juice and the Body Shop, opening Subway franchises was his chance to take charge. At one point, he owned 38 stores, and by 2015 he was among the largest franchisees in California’s East Bay region.

That was when Ms. Greco took over Subway, and the company’s store count began to shrink. In the East Bay, Mr. Tripathi was under the jurisdiction of a development agent named Chirayu Patel, known as Akki. He oversaw a huge, choice territory that included most of Northern California and western Nevada. Mr. Patel also owned dozens of Subway stores.

In 2016, he convened a franchisee meeting in a Sacramento warehouse. He told everyone that Subway wanted to improve its strongest restaurants and shut down the weaker ones, according to Nikku Aulakh, a franchisee who was present.

She left the gathering alarmed. She and many fellow franchisees had been pushed for years to invest huge sums in new stores that were now struggling. Subway’s franchise contract forbids the company from unilaterally closing stores just because sales are weak. But franchisees can lose control of their restaurants for failing to meet Subway’s operating standards — violations cited by inspectors employed by development agents like Mr. Patel.

Ms. Aulakh said Mr. Patel eventually pressured her into closing or selling her four stores in Sacramento, after they received a slew of bad evaluations. “I would have liked to stay in business for another 10 to 15 years,” she said. “I wanted to make more money, but I had no other choice.”

Vishal Sharma, a franchisee in Nevada who owned three stores, described another meeting that Mr. Patel convened in Reno the same year. In front of some 20 store operators, Mr. Patel said that he had “the money to buy the best lawyers,” Mr. Sharma recalled. “At the time, we weren’t scared. We thought that maybe that was just his style. Then we figure out that this guy’s template is not developing the territory, it’s taking away the territory.” (Mr. Patel said in an email that he had been informing the franchisees that Subway’s lawyers were available to answer legal questions.)

At one point, a franchisee sent Mr. Patel an anonymous complaint; he responded with an email to a large group of them, which was reviewed by The Times. He threatened a lawsuit that “would be so huge it would nearly take all of your life earnings in Subway in fighting this suit. Please don’t test me especially when you don’t have any basis.”

Subway terminated Mr. Sharma’s contracts in 2017. Last December, in state court, he accused Mr. Patel of using “rigged compliances” and Subway of employing an “unusual structure where the local agent is a supervisor, as well as a competitor.” The case was ordered into arbitration in Connecticut, but Mr. Sharma is appealing the decision.

Ms. Husler, the inspector who called herself Mr. Patel’s “hit man,” said that Mr. Patel considered his own interests when determining what stores would be sent to arbitration, and likely closed. When it came time to conduct inspections, she said, Mr. Patel made it “very clear that his stores were to pass” and that “the people he wanted out of the system were to fail out of the system.”

The Times reviewed text messages about individual franchisees in which Mr. Patel assigned evaluations to certain inspectors “so we can get this guy out of the system.” But when it came to his own stores, there was a different standard, according to Effie Lennox, a former inspector who worked for Mr. Patel in Northern California from 2007 to 2010. She said that he asked her not to report violations at his locations and to email him about them instead.

“That was the problem: He was a franchisee and a development agent,” she said. “And especially with someone like him, having that conflict of interest is the worst-case scenario for the franchisee, because he’s in it for his own benefit, not for theirs.”

Ms. Lennox said that she often went behind Mr. Patel’s back to warn franchisees that they were being targeted. “These are people’s livelihoods,” she said. “I felt like I needed to undo the damage that he was doing to these poor people.”

In an email to The Times, Mr. Patel said that he had acted appropriately at all times, and that his goal is for all of the stores in his territory to be successful. He said that evaluations at stores owned by Mr. Tripathi, Ms. Aulakh and Mr. Sharma were “conducted in a manner consistent with evaluations of other Subway restaurants.” There were problems with sales at Mr. Tripathi’s stores and food safety at Mr. Sharma’s locations, he said. Mr. Patel added that he and his team “have no intention of deliberately falsifying” evaluations and would never train inspectors to do so, and that noncompliant restaurant owners are given the chance to correct violations.

Pleading for help

Dozens of franchisees in the region decided to appeal to Ms. Greco for help. Mr. Tripathi was one of them. “There is a deep sense of morass within the franchisee community,” the group wrote in a 2016 letter. Soon after, they wrote again, asking that Ms. Greco “designate somebody impartial to look into the matter.” The franchisees said that they suspected Subway’s development agents of commissioning “unfair/biased/questionable evaluations” and forcing franchisees out “at a throwaway price.” They feared retaliation. “Needless to say, time is of the essence,” they wrote.

VERY LONG ARTICLE CONTINUES