So the other day at work I was finally given the chance to work a station during a busy set. I was given the short order grill. The set turned out to be busier than we thought too. Between the hours of seven pm and eleven pm we served thirteen hundred people.
The set started and suddenly I was looking at a hundred orders on screen (a screen that only displays about twenty at a time) and I froze. Like a deer in head lights I froze. Shit. I was searching in my mind for anyway to organize this chaos and found nothing. I desperately searched for anything to stop the chaos. Only one thing came to mind as I started to panic. My geekier friends will appreciate this. I heard this go off in the back of my mind.
I will not fear.
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
Allow it to pass over me, and through me.
And when fear has passed, I will turn my inner eye
And only I will remain.
I may have remembered it slightly wrong, but you get the idea. My boss, at the lead of the kitchen said, “Damon you all right?”
“Yeah boss,” I said, “I got this.” I took a deep breath and went to town. My training kicked in, and I suddenly remembered, I was pretty good at short order. The best in my class point of fact. I rocked it. Hard.
Over the course of Thirteen Hundred people, my average ticket time was seven minuets. They told me to slow down as our menu states ‘please wait thirty minuets for meals during busy times’. I was flooding the server window I was moving so fast. You ain’t ever seen a fat man move that fast. I would also like to point out that our most popular item takes an average of nine minuets to cook. It was for lack of a better word, fantastic. This is the stuff I love to do. Bear down and cook. For lots of people.
Then the set was over, and I went to my usual job of cleaning and scrubbing. It was a late night. I was at work for sixteen hours. While I was still cooking, being told I was in charge of closing, the closing GM (general manager) came in. We shall call him Mr. Tool. For no particular reason. He was angry that there were so many dishes. He was angry when I told him that we would probably not get done till two am. It is the usual time to be finished, two am.
He started sending all my workers home, so I would have to close by myself. So the time stretched on. About three am the words, “Come on man this isn’t brain surgery, you don’t have a whole lot to do,” was uttered. Yet he still sat down in his office and waited for me to be done. I wan not happy when he said, “Three am isn’t cool man. I have to open in six hours.” I felt it was very disrespectful, and you know how I react to that.
Still I let it go. Yet it happened again the next night, this time I was done at two am, but that wasn’t good enough for Mr. Tool. He also decided not to engage me directly and kept giving orders and asking for updates from my subordinate. I wasn’t happy, but I am the new guy so I let it go.
I finally brought up to my direct boss, my feelings about how I am being utilized. He listened and said, “Ok we will get you cooking more and try you out on some opening shifts instead of closing.” I was very excited. Maybe I would finally get to cook more than a few hours in a shift. Maybe I would get to learn how the kitchen operates, not just clean. I went to get my schedule the next day with a bright new optimism.
Turns out Mr. Tool likes it when I close. I am good at it and the kitchen cleaner than any one else. He is also the closing supervisor so the more he gets me to do the less he has to do. The more people he sends home, the more labor saved and the bigger his end of the month bonus. He also has schedule approval.
I was looking at a schedule of all closing shifts. I was even looking at a night where I was specifically scheduled to close by my self. I tried to keep some help late but Mr. Tool sent him home anyway. Then he complained that I was moving too slow. I lost it and we got into a screaming match. I was yelling about respect and kitchen duties, and waste of talent. I believe the phrase, ‘I have a culinary degree asshole, I am not a janitor,” escaped my lips. Not my proudest moment. He was also screaming about respect and how much he deserved it as well as about what he says goes.
I was fired. Turns out the asshole comment counts as insubordination. So now I sit out on my porch typing this, smoking my fourth cigarillo (a nasty habit I picked up recently, but it does relax me) thinking over some crucial things.
I hated the job any way.
But now I am Unemployed.
I easily have rent handled till October. I even have fun money (Anyone want to go to Vegas??)
But now I am unemployed.
That easily gives me a month to find new work and get my pay check.
Shit. I am unemployed.
All in all I think this is fine. I will be fine. I may end up sleeping in my car for a while, but I will be fine. I’ll start a job search on Monday. I will take a few days and recuperate, because I think I pulled my groin lifting hundred pound garbage cans because I was CLOSING BY MYSELF. Who knows what will happen next. I am a little scared, but maybe this will lead to good things. Updates to follow.
Thought of the day: Shit. I am now unemployed.
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