Blarg, indeed. Part two.

I decided to just make this its own post since it will likely be a lengthy story. I’m going to try to keep some of it shorter, because what happened that day still really bothers me. Okay then, the continuation.

So, I get called up to assist “sweet butter” Gary. On a side note; the reason he calls himself “sweet butter” is because he’s always on a roll. Yeah, I wanted to slap that smile right off of his face when he told me that. Anyways, I figure I’ll just help him out quick and be back on my way to prep. Not even close. This is the first time he’s seen any real action in I don’t know how long, and he’s obviously rusty, to put it lightly.

Usually he just comes in, walks around talking garbage about nothing, and only really ever accomplishes his minimal management duties. It takes him hours to do a schedule for his ever diminishing roster, which only consists of five of us now in total. Then there are the food orders which he must just guess on because we ALWAYS run out of multiple items several times per week. The important items, like steak, chicken, burger, milk, etc. He seems to over order on the things we barely use because there is so many half spoiled products we have to figure out what to do with them. You get the picture.

We do a moderate service and then he just disappears off line without a word. I stay and keep plugging away on a few tickets here and there and decide to check the line over just to be safe. Sure as shit, the place is half depleted, so I do my routine of refilling all the while hammering out orders solo. Then I notice him over in the prep area. I ask him, “Oh, hey. Did you just want me to stay up here or prep like you said before?” He replies, “I forgot that I need to make this sauce.” Yeah right, dickhole. He’s making a basic horseradish cream sauce for tonight’s service, which is still FIVE HOURS AWAY! Good thinking my overlord, I’m sure glad you’re leading our team of ignoramuses. Our fearless commander is obviously terrified to try to cook by himself, so pathetic.

This now means I will be up here getting smothered and eventually need to beg for help. My mood has now returned to its normal nature while here, depressed, seasoned lightly with bitterness, with a bit of rage thrown in for color. The host comes flying into the kitchen exclaiming that there are sixty plus open. I relay the message to captain clueless and the retarded prep cook to which I am told, “Okay, let us know when you need help.” What. The. Fuck.

The printers start to go crazy. One ticket after the other after another, another, another; you get the point. I don’t even pull one off and wait for the noise to subside. The manager is watching this all happen and says, “Did you want some help now?” He had to be speaking sarcastically, he just had to be, but how can I be sure, really? I hold up over my head the string of tickets that goes all the way down to the floor plus two feet of drag. I say, “Nah, I’m fine.” I refuse to even start separating and hanging them until someone gets on this fucking line to help me. He obviously was able to hear my sarcasm and drags himself over.

We proceed to get absolutely CRUSHED for the next two hours. The self proclaimed world’s best prep cook/line cook is a complete mess. He’s freaking out and choking like I’ve never witnessed in my whole career. Fuckin’ Epstein. Gary is trying desperately, and failing miserably, to help him all the while running the grill and the pass. I tell him to just worry about keeping his head above water and I’ll take care of grill and help on the pass. It works for a little while and prep boy is able to regain some control. Those two were complete jokes and I saved them entirely. Then, of course, I get hit with a final massive onslaught of area specific orders, my area. Now I’m going down and directly because I’m covering extra sections.

No worries. Gary was able to finally catch up Epstein’s side so they can now shift their attention to helping me. NOPE! Gary says he’s going to make a phone call! I’m literally buried with no chance of redemption. To make matters even sweeter, Epstein walks off the line to get a glass of soda! I know this sounds asinine, I can’t believe it’s happening myself. This is just how this place runs, on sheer stupidity. That’s the only way I can really explain it.

You inconsiderate assholes! I go out of my comfort zone to help the team, and you pricks leave me to fend for myself?! That is it! What I’m about to write is only bits and pieces of what I remember, I’ll try to paraphrase the best I can, because I honestly lost my fucking mind. I think I actually became temporarily insane for a few moments. I explode like no time before in my life.

I know for a fact the first thing out of my mouth was, “YOU MOTHER FUCKERS!” That’s about all I can verify was accurate. Everyone’s eyes were now on me. For the next several minutes I viciously berated this poor excuse for a human being without mercy. Epstein tried to cut in during the peak of the madness and I let loose on him the worst obscenities anyone within ear distance has likely ever heard in their life. By the time I was done with him, his eyes were watering up. I shift back to Gary and finish my brutal assault. My final words were, “You will be God damn lucky if you get my full two week’s notice out of me.”

The whole lashing probably only lasted three minutes but I got out what I’ve been holding back for too long. I was now done and waiting for the consequences of my actions, actually begging for them. NOTHING. No one said a word. They resumed helping finish up the shit storm of now really backed up orders. No one would even look at me, everyone kept their head down. I’m still raging pissed slamming things around but remaining quiet. We get a lull in the orders and after about another half hour of the most intense silence ever Gary tells me to take a break. I throw my apron on the counter and plow out the back door.

I come back, yes, I went back, (because for some reason it would bother the shit out of me if I didn’t) an hour later and there is a bartender smoking outside. I walk past him and he calls me over with a huge smile on his face. He begins to tell me what unfolded while I was away. He goes on to say that Rex (GM) came in shortly after I left and everyone was flocking to him to tell him what happened. I said, “Well, I guess I don’t have to bother going back in now.”, and he replied, “Nope, just the opposite. Everyone stuck up for you and Rex took those two into the office. He came out and his face was bright red and he was asking if any of us had your cell number. I think dumb and dumber got his wrath as well.”

Even though I really didn’t care if I was fired or not, I was a bit glad to know I could still have at least some steady income until I secure another job. That and I can’t tell you all how much it meant that everyone else that was working had my back. That truly meant the fucking world to me. I went back in.

I immediately approach Gary and plainly say, “What now?” He replies, “You’ve had a rough day, you can prep until supper service if that’s okay with you?” Certainly not what I was expecting to hear and I told him that was fine.

I go over and begin and not more than a few minutes later, Rex approaches me. He says, “We need to talk about what happened.” I flat out said, “No we don’t. I’m not apologizing and I meant every word I said. You do whatever you feel you have to do.” Convinced I was going to be told to leave the premises, I paused what I was preparing and waited. He said, “I’m not mad at you but I have to try to make this right. Things like this cannot happen.” I retort, “There is no way you can make this right.” He said, “I’m sorry to hear that but I’d still like to try.” I mumbled, “No thank you.” He shook his head and walked away. Now I’m pretty sure he’s pissed at me too.

I go back to prepping for the horrible evening to come. No one will talk to me or even acknowledge my existence anymore. I just keep plugging away. A little while later, Rex comes back right as I’m finishing up and getting ready to go on line for supper service. He pulls me aside and tells me, “Why don’t you go ahead and call it a night. We’ll take it from here.” Ah fuck, and there it is, I am being fired after all.

This would be the first time I’ve been fired, let alone even reprimanded in any job I’ve had. I’m relieved but still bummed out at the same time. I don’t care, it was worth it and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I’m not going to argue with him or try to state my side as there’s just no point to it anymore. I give up but will still walk out of the building with my dignity. At least I got to put two of these fucks in their well deserved places before my time here was done. I won’t have to work here anymore and can start to rebuild my sanity.

I sigh and reply in a solemn tone, “So that’s it, huh?” He replied back, “I hope not, but that’s up to you at this point. You had a rough day and I’ll credit you for your scheduled hours tonight. Take the rest of the night off and I hope to see you Wednesday. If you want, come in a little early and we’ll discuss how I see the future of this place. If not, I respect your decision and will let you finish your notice.” He pats me on the back as I turn to walk away.

This emotional roller coaster is too much. I almost start weeping as I leave the building. What the fuck just happened here…this whole day will live forever burned into my memory.

As I type this out, I still don’t know what to think or even how to react. I’m not sure if I will come in early or just quit wasting my time and not go back period, it never seems to make any difference in the long run. I will be sure to update the happenings as they proceed, at some near point in time, in another day in the life of a line cook.

Blarg, indeed.

It was a rough day all around. I was scheduled in at open and first off, ten hours later. I pull up in the parking lot thinking about how shitty the day would start out, and see the worst prep cook known to man’s car sitting there. Lovely, my mood has sunken even lower, if that’s possible. He has to have some days off damn it, why isn’t it today!?

He must have some sort of learning deficiency because I just don’t get how he is this dumb and slow, though thinks he’s the world’s best at everything. He’s the kind of guy that always has something to say, no matter what, always has an excuse for everything, gets mad and damn near starts crying when you criticize or joke about him, and is just an all around unlikeable guy. A dildo “know it all” is my only definition. Ignorance is bliss is the other thing that comes to mind; and I wish I had both concurrently. Life would be so much easier.

Anyways, I walk into the restaurant and clock in, put my coat away, and ask a manager to open the office so I can get an apron and a fish-free towel. I solemnly walk back to my co-worker and prepare for the worst. He’s so happy it pisses me off. I was only bummed out, now I’m that plus angry. Blarg.

This douche is behind as much as possible, of course. He spends most of the morning dancing and singing to his iPod or whatever is in his ear. I’m just thinking to myself, “Give me a reason to leave, please.” And then, another bright and shiny-eyed individual makes himself known. It’s the glorious KM! Wow, he’s actually a relief to my burden seeing as that means we have one more body to help ease the pain of another messed up day.

I tell him I’m going to make sure the line is set up and ready to go, as I of course am the one who is going to have to tread through the sludge of what will be Saturday lunch service. He stops me and says, “Nah, I’m taking care of the line and will cook.” WTF? I wanted to say, “Do you remember how?”, but I didn’t. I was actually really relieved. I get to help a border line retarded individual prep food now. And it’s like having a day off to me. My mood increases one hundred fold at that moment.

I start grabbing things left and right, multi-tasking like no tomorrow. Woot! I can hammer all of this crap out in no time on prep. I hear Gary yell out, “You didn’t turn on the fryers!” Mongoloid boy yells back, “Oh, sorry. I’ve been in such a rush today.” Then this dick wants to reminisce with me about the time he forgot to turn on the fryers when I was cooking. Yeah, it’s still not funny idiot. Orders backed up for twenty minutes before I could even start them. Wow, great past time story you fucking simpleton!

And then it happens. Yup, something always happens. Not more than five minutes after we start serving customers, Gary calls me up to help him on line. What ensued was just disgusting for how wonderful a service it could have been. The kitchen manager, his star prep cook, and me. Two people failed magnificently in this scenario, and I guarantee you, it wasn’t me.

  

Oh my God, I don’t even want to type this all out tonight anymore, and this was the first hour of ten in a never ending service. I’ll just leave it here so I have to edit it tomorrow or the next day. I just want to go to sleep. Apologies all around, until editing time, in the life of a line cook.

Bad attitudes and food waste are ingredients for a pleasant evening.

Well, my plans ended up being pretty anticlimactic. I just went in early and told Rex (GM) my story from the other evening and he said Gary hadn’t yet brought any ideas to him. He assured me that if they sounded similar I would be get some credit. Some credit. I told him I wanted to be present when they discussed it and he said he’d try to arrange that.

So basically, from what I gathered, I won’t be there to hear my jacked concepts being spurted from the mouth of my traitorous superior. Any by getting some credit, I’m thinking a small thank you, but probably not even that. This shit is so messed up. I am finding it hard to keep my faith in humanity. I remember writing that I believe there is inherent good in everybody, there is at least some professional courtesy, be it at any level, and this happens. I could never do this to another person, it’s just not right. Have some integrity and decency instead of being a gutless leech. God damn bottom feeders. I will see some sort of justice served before my time is done here, that I promise myself.

Meth head is still gainfully employed, fuck he probably got a raise and some stock options out of the whole ordeal. Probably only got warned to make sure if he’s going to get high at work, just do it during weeknight services and not weekends. Then they likely exchanged buyer information and some samples with each other. Yeah, I’m that bitter.

There were a couple of decent highlights last night, though. I came in and was met by my new supervisor, yeah a fresh hatchling. He stated that we all had a list of cleaning duties for the evening. As my mood sank yet another notch, I just said to myself that I wasn’t going to do it if I didn’t get time. But, I always find time so I’ll just keep chugging along like any other drone.

The closing cook comes in an hour later and is told the same thing. He retorts, “Yeah, fuck that. I’ll do it when I see Gary do something.” The newly appointed mini manager exclaims back, “Nope, you have to!” Wow, way to flex your authority. You sure told him! You’ll fit right in with this circus of upper level incompetents. Closing cook spits back, “When I say fuck that, I mean fuck that. I’m tired of this shit. I do more extra cleaning around here than anyone else without having to be told to do so.” I can’t control it; I burst into hysterical laughter. Thank you brother, you’re my hero. I really needed to hear that. Ah, this night may turn around after all.

The supervisor disappears from the kitchen and returns with a front of the house manager. Ahahahahahaha! He went and told on the closer obviously because he didn’t know how to handle such adversity. It is now part of your job to DEAL with shit like this you spineless twit! She comes back and starts to glare at him. Fuck, this is going to be awesome!

Nope, she says nothing. However, something does happen. She and the newly appointed dictator begin cleaning the items they were arguing about! WOW! Excellent conflict management skills you two! By the time they are almost finished with what are apparently now their cleaning duties, they are joking and chumming up to the said offender. Maybe I should grow my balls a little bigger if it would mean I would get these results. I’m so dumbfounded by this whole episode. To go even further, after they finish his chores, they do mine too!

A little while later I notice dildo number one manager is finally pulling a shift tonight. This is the second time I’ve ever seen him work and I’ve been here for over two months now. This is the holier than thou dick that pushed the spoon in my face and wanted me to taste his cold pasta in the other post. He’s strutting around like he’s king shit, God what a fucking dumbass. He’s spewing garbage to the servers like, “Let’s get those beverage sales up tonight!” and “Remember everyone, teamwork makes the dream work!” OMG! Are you for real? Seriously, did I just hear that over used useless drivel come from that retarded skull of yours!? I hate this guy more and more every time I see him, and I’ve only seen him twice while working!

As the night unfolds he’s helping expo and he calls me over to remind me that ALL burgers come with pickles. I say, “Yeah, I know.” He asks, “Then why doesn’t this burger have pickles? I need pickles on this burger!” I just sigh to myself and reply, “The ticket says no pickle.” Holy fuck. This isn’t possible. He can’t be wrong, so he retorts, “Well, that probably means not on the burger, put a pickle spear on the side.” I say, “It says no pickles, so I don’t put ANY pickles on the burger or plate, but here you go.” I put a pickle on the plate. He cockily spurts out, “Thanks! That was easy, wasn’t it!?” Fuck you nerd. Just fuck you.

The server whose food this was overhears the conversation and exclaims, “No No No! They said they hate pickles!” He tries to play it off and grabs the pickle and puts it into his mouth while saying, “That’s okay. I wanted this anyways.” A glorious manager was wrong, once again, and while confronting me, once again. Oh my, how the tide has shifted. No way you’re getting off that easy, asshole.

I grab the plate from the serving window and bring it back down. I say out loud for all to hear, “That’s just great! Now I have to add this burger to our waste sheet! I’ll get another one going right away.” The arrogant dick replies, “Why would you do that? There’s nothing wrong with that!” I exclaim, “The customer said he hates pickles and now the pickle itself and the juice have touched the bun!” He snarls back, “It will be fine.” I ask innocently, “What if he has pickle allergies?” This dumb fuck looks at me for about five seconds and then grudgingly concedes, “I suppose you’re right. I’ll tell him it will be a few more minutes.” Are you kidding me? The server said he hates pickles, not that he’s allergic to them.

He comes racing back into the kitchen moments later and shrieks, “He said it would be fine!” Ha-ha, you dumb shit. In a sympathetic tone I say, “Aw, I just threw it in the garbage. I’ll put a rush on the new one though. I guess I’ll add the vegetables to the waste list too because we can’t serve those anymore either.” Dildo supreme states, “Ah, well I’ll let him know and give him a twenty-five percent discount.” Way to go management superstar. When will you fuckers learn to just stay away from me and keep you pie holes shut?

I normally wouldn’t do this with anyone, especially since it means the poor customer now has to wait a little longer for his meal, but I had to teach this dick head a lesson. Thank you for your noble sacrifice table 44. I am forever in your debt. By the way, I didn’t throw the burger away, I ate it and it was fucking delicious. Tasted like sweet victory.

The manager stays away for the rest of my shift. I make sure to take the waste sheet directly to him before I clock out. It looks like he’s sitting with a group of friends. I tell him right in front of his companions, “The person who wasted the item needs to initial the sheet. This way we know who needs help in this area.” I make sure we have eye contact and with a big smile go on to say, “You need to initial this so Rex and Gary know what you wasted tonight and that I wasn’t responsible.” He doesn’t say a word and slops down his initials. “Oops, you missed right here where it says a six ounce portion of mixed vegetables.” He signs again in utter defeat. Yeah, take that you fucker! How does that feel? Feels pretty great to me! I walk away, actually I may have been skipping with glee, but I don’t remember, clock out for the night, grab my coat, and head out the door.

Between me and the other cook, we got a couple wins out of the night. All in all, it wasn’t that bad of a day, in the life of a line cook.

Vivid Surreality?

This is a fair warning to all. I am tossing back some beers this fine March evening, and I have a lot to put down, so this will probably be long-winded, and become more so as the number of beverages increases. I tend to ramble when alcohol is flowing through my system, so you have been given adequate notice. Okay, here we go.

The private meeting was typical yesterday, I suppose. I was able to vent and I did it in a civil manner. I basically brought up every petty detail that I didn’t like within the establishment. After adding each miniscule item up, it really did amount to a lot when each is compounded by the other. So I did get to address some concerns, and it felt good. The KM listened to my point of view and how I’d go about taking care of these problems.

He just sat there and let it all soak in, and then did something that really blew my mind, he agreed with me, on everything. He apologized and owned the responsibility as his failings of being a manager. What is going on here? This isn’t supposed to be happening. Maybe there is hope after all. What happens from here, we’ll see, but I’m betting confidently on nothing. I’ll get to this part later.

Regardless, I ended the conversation with a notice of resignation. This will give them something to stew on. I don’t think this is over yet, like I said, it gives them something more to think about and maybe they’ll try to come to some sort of compromise, or possibly not. God help them if not. They will get absolutely destroyed this spring and summer, not a single doubt in my mind about that. I’m honestly not trying to be vindictive or cocky here, but I know for certain they could “use” my help.

I was offered a wage increase but turned it down as it really wasn’t sufficient in my eyes. A little bit more would likely be enough for me to tolerate the sheer stupidity of this place as time goes on, but that’s for them to figure out. If they let me leave, I’m totally fine with that too. I applied at several other places yesterday, two of which include restaurants. Damn, I must be a glutton for punishment, but it’s the quickest way for me to secure employment as most every local restaurant is always hurting for competent kitchen staff. Anyways…

The whole meth incident was undecided. I guess that doesn’t surprise me considering the situation. As I wrote before, the cook is a great worker and everyone really enjoys working with him. He knows his shit and it’s a person who can basically manage himself, with minimal guidance from time to time.

My personal opinion is termination, no ifs ands or buts about it. That’s why it’s called a zero tolerance policy. End of discussion. There is no way you can preach this philosophy and not follow through. It displays favoritism and shows your weakness as management. This policy has been a pertinent topic in several meetings. Paraphrasing here, the GM’s words, “If you come into work high, you are done. If you come into work drunk, you are done. If you use drugs, unless prescribed by a doctor, or alcohol while working, you are done. No exceptions.” Can it really be said any clearer than that? How is that statement not reasonable and fair?

The offending employee is intelligent enough to know he can’t come to work in that state and that there will be a reaction to his behavior. He was just hoping nobody would notice, how, I have no idea. The alternatives to how the night unfolded could have been so different, and that’s something you can’t turn a blind eye to and hope doesn’t happen.

As I wrote in the previous post, this dude was wacked out all the while working around dangerous equipment, razor sharp knives, and FOOD WE SERVE TO THE PUBLIC. What if he had added some degreaser while preparing a dish thinking it was olive oil? What if he thought he was cutting up a carrot when it was actually his finger? What if he thought he was washing a pan in soapy water when it was in fact the deep fryer? What if he had a psychotic break and became aggressive and violent? I’ve never done the drug so I don’t really know, perhaps I’m just imagining the worst. Maybe none of that is probable, though no one can tell me it’s not possible.

And not to be a total dick, I would go as far as to offer him a chance at redemption. He would be fired, though if he chose to seek help for and could overcome his addiction, he would be given another chance to come back so long as he stayed sober. Everyone’s been given a second chance at something in their lifetime, and normally with certain criteria and stipulations. This is no different.

I also feel it’s an easy decision because there is no other choice on the matter. A rock solid precedent was already set by firing the pill popper only minutes after his departure. Within a ten minute time frame, the schedule was in the GM’s hand with the employee’s name crossed off and he was asking who could pick up his shifts. However, should he return at some point in the future and say, “Look, I know I messed up and accept responsibility. I’ve got my act together now and would like another shot.” I absolutely think he should be considered again. People make poor choices, it’s in our wiring, and I don’t feel anyone deserves to be completely written off after one offense of this nature.

In this situation, I also understand how it can become a personal dilemma. It reminds me of a time where I had to do almost the exact thing. I was a high level manager in another franchise restaurant many moons ago. A member of the kitchen staff brought to my attention that a co-worker had stolen some items. He explained what he saw and I reviewed the surveillance. Sure enough, that employee was on camera with the exact merchandise I was told about. This was a problem.

I privately met with said thief and without even showing any of the footage or even telling him there was any, he confessed. After a lengthy discussion, I told him to come back tomorrow for the final decision. I already knew what I was going to do but wanted to run the whole thing by the owner and other management team members. I was actually met with some opposition, by the owner; the other members were on board. He was conflicted because he personally adored this kid, hell we all did. He worked in my department and I thought the world of him. Excellent worker, smart, quick, personable, mild tempered, damn near a model employee except for this incident, that we knew of.

I flat out told the owner, again paraphrasing here, it’s been a long time, “You told me when I accepted this position that you trusted my judgment and wouldn’t overrule me on decisions. You said if you ever had to do that, it means I’m not doing my job competently. No one WANTS this but we NEED to do this, you and I both know that.” I went on to say that the choice was ultimately his, as you know, he owns the place, and left him to decide. He came out of the office a few minutes later, apologized, and told me I had his support. When you like the people, these situations point blank fucking suck, but again, the decision was inevitably already made by that employee. So yes, I do know what it’s like to have this burden dealing with the good employees.

I’m aware that what I wrote makes me look a bit like a heartless jerk, but I will stand by my convictions. The first post of this blog has me stating that what I write will be 100% the truth, and I won’t waver from that, ever. What that cook did was flat out wrong as well as the current one. I know the rules wherever I work and follow them. If I didn’t, I’d expect to suffer the consequences and accept my fate. If I don’t agree with the rules, I choose to work elsewhere. It’s just that simple to me.

Well I’ve turned this part of the post into something I didn’t want to. The purpose of this blog was basically for me to just piss and moan and let others know how fucked up the food service industry can be at times. I’m not here to preach to people on how to live their lives. I’ve stated before and will reinforce, I don’t give a flying fuck how people want to live so long as it doesn’t negatively affect others. This behavior directly makes my employment more miserable than it needs to be and I guess I needed to throw in my two cents. (Thank you Budweiser)

So ANYWAYS...

When I walked in tonight, I seen his name still on the schedule and he was due to arrive in an hour. No big surprise there. Something else was different, though. The kitchen and prep area were immaculate! Cleaned from top to bottom, line stocked, floors swept and mopped, and the prep cook was still plugging away. I couldn’t believe my eyes. What I bitched about to the KM actually mattered. Everyone, and I mean everyone, yes even the one who I’ve had the two battles of the wits with, greeted me with a warm welcome and a smile.

The prep cook, who only ever does what he wants to, asked me if I could check over his work before he leaves to make sure things were completed for the night. He didn’t even say it in a smart ass way either, really polite and sincere. I told him, “That’s alright, I trust you.” all the while thinking to myself, “Just shut up and get away from me. I still don’t like you.” He then asked me if it would be okay for him to leave for the day. I said I didn’t care and if I happened to see anything, I’d let him know tomorrow. I honestly think he was reaching for a compliment or pat on the back from me for doing such a great job today, you know, what he’s expected to do everyday anyways. Fuck that, one day of being responsible and doing your job the correct way won’t get shit from me dickhead. Some consistency might.

He leaves and I have the kitchen to myself for an hour. I can actually finish tying up loose ends and be completely prepared for the dinner service. My mind starts to wonder, likely in absolute disbelief… WTF is going on here? There has to be a catch. Surly I’m still at home sleeping, though this would be the first dream I’ve had of this place rather than nightmare. But no, I’m standing in the restaurant, ready to go, as things are supposed to be.

The night proceeds into normality. We get our rush, the meth dude seems sober and is rocking his section, I’m killing it on calling, plating, flat top, etc., and my other co-worker is nailing appetizers, sauté, and deep fryers. Excellent service by all! As close to a perfect work day as I’ve ever had here. The tickets subdue and I finish up my cut work and am done for the evening. I clock out and now it’s official; I made it through ONE GOD DAMN DAY without anything going wrong. And then it happens…something always seems to happen, doesn’t it?

The nice front manager, who I like from last week’s fiasco, notices I’m on my way out. She stops me and asks if I’d like to have a drink on the house. Jesus, this is really getting weird, but I’m in a great mood now and tell her, “Sure, why not.” I head out to the bar and grab a seat. She and the other manager sit down next to me. A waiter and waitress gather around for a quick one also.

I ask why everyone is in such a good mood tonight and she tells me how excited everyone is about the KM’s (let’s start calling him Gary; I once knew a guy named Gary and he was an incompetent douche, so we’ll run with that) fantastic ideas on how we can improve productivity, efficiency, and moral around this place. Wow, I’d love to hear them too since he never mentioned any of them yesterday when we chatted. Well, he did have a night to sleep on it so he likely did some brainstorming. Now I’m all ears and looking toward a pleasant future here!

The first topic was what Gary thinks we should do about the meth guy situation. Finally! He grew some balls and made a decision. Yesterday when I asked him what he was going to do he just said verbatim, “I don’t know.” The almighty Gary has now concluded the destiny of Mr. Meth. Please enlighten me.

She goes on to say, “He said after thinking about it, even though we all like him (meth dude), what he did was unacceptable. And we totally agree.” Whoa, back the fuck up here. This sounds oddly familiar, except those words came from my mouth to his ears yesterday morning. In our private meeting, I said exactly, “What are you going to do about (insert name/meth dude)?” He replied back exactly, “I don’t know.” I replied back to him exactly, “Even though we all like him, what he did was unacceptable.” Holy fuck, this isn’t happening. Please tell me this isn’t happening right now. It was such a perfect day. I just wanted one fucking good day…

I curiously ask what his other ideas were. Almost word for word, they regurgitate all the things I think this place needs to work on, but coming from Gary’s magical fucking brain! I can’t fathom what I’m hearing.

This (I can’t for the love of me think of enough vulgarities to portray my feelings) “bad person” is taking credit for everything I thought I was being helpful with. I’ve never been deceived by such a shady fuck in all of my life. The first thing I think of is how I’m going to plant my boot in his face the next time I see him, on or off this property, over and over and over and over…you get the idea. Ah, we can all fantasize.

My body and psyche literally don’t know how to react. I can only muster, “Yeah, those are all great ideas. It’s a shame he didn’t think of it the past two years he’s managed this place. Maybe everyone could have avoided these problems. Well, one is my limit since I’m driving.” I’m surprised I could stay that composed. I just know I needed to get the fuck out of there and now. I was literally shaking on the drive home.

This will get dealt with, I promise. I’m not a violent person, so no, not the way I initially dreamed of, but I’m going to deal with this, trust me.

I thought these last two months being employed there were the angriest I would ever become while confined within those walls. It went up to new levels of rage I never thought I’d imagine. I now know exactly what I’m going to do, though am not going to dredge this out any further tonight. I’ve already had too many drinks reliving this horror show in my head as I place it into text. I’m going to finish drinking my beer and get some sleep, because it’s going to be interesting tomorrow, in another day in the life of a line cook. Of that, I can assure you.