I show up on Saturday night to cook. I had a positive outlook as I was supposed to be off earlier in the evening and looking forward to a nice night out with my friends after my shift. Everything was normal until the rest of the night crew arrived.
One cook shows up sick, and I mean visibly dodging death’s grip. He was coughing, hacking, dizzy, sweating, and at some times, bent over in pain with his hands on his knees. I felt so bad for the guy. I asked him why in the world he was here and he stated that he couldn’t get anyone else to cover for him plus he found out another person had already called in sick. This was news to me. Well, we’re now a man down with another looking like he would be visiting some relatives in the afterlife shortly.
I told him to just go and tell the manager or GM he had to go and we’ll just tough it out. There is no excuse for making a person work who is obviously this ill, plus there is no way in hell he should be working around food, period. He said he tried but they want him to stay over the rush and then go home early. Absolutely pathetic. The GM could have waddled his butt back and cooked during the rush as the front of the house was literally overstaffed, but I suppose he couldn’t be bothered to get his hands greasy anymore. The kitchen manager was also there but had scheduled himself off that night, so God forbid he actually have to step up and help out his kitchen when in need and, you know, do his job. Man I love my superiors.
So we proceed into the supper service and everything is going pretty smooth. I’m helping the sick guy on broiler plus maintaining the grill and plating. I notice the fryer cook asking the caller how much of this and that he needs. This is really odd as the fryer section has its own printer and the person running it should NEVER need to ask anything so long as they are able to read at a sixth grade level. I know, seems like not much to ask but who am I kidding. I shrug it off and continue to focus on my sections.
About fifteen minutes later, I notice the fryer cook walking away and another take over for him. I assume he went to smoke or go to the bathroom, or just flat out couldn’t handle the rush. About thirty minutes after that, the main cook yells out, “Where the **** is Alex”! (we will call him Alex) A front end manager goes to look for him. She comes back inside saying she found him face down in the parking lot. She managed to rile him up and she said he started walking around the building like he was going to go into the front entrance. Not more than thirty seconds after, we see him come into the kitchen with blood all over his face and neck. He takes a sharp left and goes into the produce cooler.
Another cook goes to check on him and comes back out and tells us that Alex is messed up. He thinks he is in his bedroom at home and can’t figure out why he can’t get his TV to work, fidgeting with a box of lettuce. Cook number two now also confesses that Alex admitted to taking a bunch of pills (the prescribed kind but not legally his) before he got to work and was complaining about blurry vision even before he came up to the line.
A quick little back history of Alex. He is the establishment’s druggy, if you will. I was told he is always high on weed when working with usually some added stimulants. Well, that explains the other night then. Apparently he went overboard this time. As I stated before, I don’t mind what people want to do on their own time so long as it doesn’t affect me in any way. They can do meth and heroin while singing show tunes and self-asphyxiating for all I care. To each his/her own and it’s none of anyone else’s business how they choose to live their life.
The GM gets him into the office and tries to talk to him. He said he is obviously ****ed up. I tell him that even though it’s pretty clear why he is acting like this, someone should take him to the emergency room to make sure it wasn’t from the fall and that he should go anyways. The GM said he called his sister and she is was on her way to do just that. We hear from her a bit later that Alex is fine as there are no dangerous injuries, and that’s all she wants to say. Well, I’m happy to hear that. The guy annoyed me the other night making me stay late because he was high and lazy, but I certainly don’t wish harm upon him. I believe there is inherently more good in a person than bad, and I did like Alex, just got fed up with him on some nights.
Anyways…so now we’re down two full bodies, plus a third one teetering on collapse at any given moment. We proceed into the barrage of orders still quite capable.
About an hour into the thick of things, we run out of hamburgers, yes, you did read that correctly, HAMBURGERS. The worthless, self-proclaimed, king of the kitchen morning preparer didn’t bother to make any patties nor take anything out of the freezer. I could go off into another rant about this guy, but that would take many, many more paragraphs and I’ll save it for the not so distant future. We form our own patties from thirty pound ground beef chubs, and there weren’t any thawed, plus we were currently balls to the wall busy.
We inform the GM and he crabs a bit and then just says he’ll inform the servers that we are out for the night. I mean, COME ON! Go buy some fresh or borrow some from a different restaurant at least! Too much trouble I guess. Ugh.
About a half hour after that, we get a small break in orders from the old crowd leaving and the new customers piling in. After working next to this borderline deceased cook, I tell the main guy that we have to send this poor guy home. I said I’ll take over the broiler and still do my other sections, which would be tough, but I knew I could handle it. Just let this suffering human being leave for the love of all that is holy. He agrees and I tell him to hit the road. I thank him graciously for being a stand up guy and helping out in his state. He stumbles off line and not another single person gives him a dose of acknowledgement or gratitude as he heads out the back door. So sad.
I hop over to the broiler section and look in the coolers to restock as we now have a small lull in activity. I notice that there is a significant shortage of every cut of steak, so I head to the meat cooler to refill the supply.
I look everywhere, thinking I must be just not seeing the cuts. I look, and look, and hunt, and dig. I can’t find any. I head out and tell another to go see where they are, because for some reason, I am overlooking them. He comes back out and says, “The reason you didn’t see them is because we don’t have any more”. You have got to be ****ing kidding me…I am literally speechless with a look of awe on my face. You guessed it, in the freezer sit rock solid slabs of sirloin, tenderloin, rib eye, buffalo; the works. The preparer, once again, didn’t do his job and screwed us over. We inform the GM and he is furious. He lets loose on our main cook and he defends himself saying to take it up with the preparer or the early man on shift who is supposed to check these things. But wait, he is either still at the hospital or now at home high as hell with a busted face.
To make things a little clearer, there are two people that are supposed to check our food stock. These would be the two aforementioned. When we others come in for the night, we have to go right up to line for the final checkups as the rush is generally starting to flow just as we walk in the door. You know, because management wants to save labor on that extra hour or two that would have helped us avoid these unfortunate food shortage mishaps on our busiest night of the week, again, you know, the night with the largest volume of customers and sales. Sigh, I digress.
So the GM, yes, wait for it, just wait for it…calls off STEAK after we diminished what was left of our measly supply, with over two hours of service left. No big deal. After all, we are only a steakhouse. Did you happen to catch my sarcasm there? Just making sure.
So now my job is back to being much easier for the rest of the night as one section is basically closed now minus a few minuscule items. And to top it off, the word never got to all of the staff, either that or they were too dumb to comprehend the announcement. So for another half of an hour we are calling back servers to tell them that we don’t have that item anymore and they go to deal with angry patrons. So the evening ends up being a complete mess.
Imagine this; you work hard all week at your fantastic or crappy job. You make plans to go and have a nice night out with the family or friends or even by yourself if you’re that lonely. You go to the most popular steakhouse in town and look forward to a few beers, great conversation with close ones, relaxation, and a tasty meal.
You get your drinks ordered and everyone is in a wonderful mood. It’s going to be a great night! You deserve this after the work week you’ve had! You happen to look over your shoulder and notice an obvious employee (because of the uniform with the company name and logo on it) disorientated and stumbling around the dining room. He has blood running down his face and he can’t quite seem to find the direction he is looking for. He stops to pet a plant saying, “Hi fluffy, you’re a good boy”. He finally makes it to a door that appears to lead to the back. Hmm, that doesn’t seem to be the norm in basically any social setting that you can think of. You are a bit disturbed but manage to put the scene in the back of your head once you all chat and your server assures you that he is alright. He was just clumsy and fell down outside and as a precaution, was being taken to be looked at. It was an unfortunate accident but nothing to be concerned about.
You sit and relax drinking your alcoholic beverages and laughing it up with your acquaintances not in any kind of hurry to eat. A little time passes and you’re all ready to look at the menu. Wow, these prices are high but you know what? You all deserve to treat yourselves. Everyone decides to get some appetizers and have another drink before the main entrees are ordered. The appetizers come just as a fresh round hits the table. Perfect! What a great night so far!
Your group orders their entrees and you decide to splurge. You’re going to get a filet mignon with button mushrooms and bourbon sauce. Wow, you can’t wait as it’s going to be delicious. About fifteen minutes later, the server comes back to the table to inform several guests that the kitchen has run out of hamburger, the very thing that was the main ingredient in their orders. You think that’s a bit odd, but hey, you got the filet and it doesn’t concern you. The other guests reorder a bit disgruntled. Oh well, one bump in the evening is not that major, it’s still a great night. However, you do seem to notice several tables visibly upset and leaving without appearing to have even eaten a thing. Hmm, seems strange doesn’t it, but you’re not really focused on that, just what is at your immediate table of friends.
About ten minutes later, the server returns again. He/she now is looking at you. Uh oh. They regretfully explain that the kitchen is now out of steak. “Out of steak”, you repeat in disbelief. “Yes all steak”, they confirm. Well WTF! Now you’re forced to either get something you didn’t even want or leave with an empty belly. You just overpaid for your drinks which you could have gotten cheaper at a lounge while still having the same fun with your friends minus the stumbling bloody cook disturbance. My how the evening has taken a sharp 180.
From that night on you almost look forward to telling the magical tale of your experience at the city’s number one steakhouse to everyone you encounter. After all, it’s such a good story, you know, one that people will find hard to believe because it’s absolutely ludicrous. Well that can only help the restaurant in terms of return customers and future patrons, I’m quite sure. (sarcasm again just in case anyone missed it)
That wasn’t even it for the night. After shutting down the kitchen, everyone fought over who would have to close since the inebriated, red-faced individual no longer works there, thus will not be available to close. That’s one thing I was satisfied with. I figured he would be given a few more chances, but no, there is a zero tolerance policy and the GM actually stuck to it. So I volunteer to close so that everyone will just shut up and figure I’ll go out and have some kind of fun and relief another time. Nothing new I suppose. My friends I had plans with, as well as myself, carried on with the night disappointed. Ah, another should have been good evening turned to crap and all because of other peoples’ personal ethics overflowed to somehow affect me.
Well I’ve wasted enough time with this post and reliving the sheer retardedness of that night is getting me worked up. And to think I figured that putting all of this down “on paper” would be therapeutic for me; hmm, interesting I guess. So I’ll end here until next time I write about a day in the life of a fry cook.
Possibly in the next post; how I was graphically sexually assaulted in the freezer by a co-worker of the opposite sex. Meh, we’ll see.
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