From bad to worse.

Well, my employment is officially done at the restaurant now. Ah, it feels good. I have a few days off before I begin my new chapter of food service hell so I’m going to enjoy them to the fullest. It’s been raining here all damn week with no end in sight, so I guess I’ll just have to stock up with some Budweiser and make the most of it. I’m going in tomorrow morning to pick up my new uniforms, yeah that’s plural, I get more than ONE! I can’t believe it! Plus I’m getting a mini tour to help refresh my memory. I just know when I walk into the kitchen all of the years of horrible memories will come rushing back. I’ll probably be depressed after I leave and be asking myself, “What the fuck did you did you do!?” I’ll see I guess.

The last few days at work were basically normal. I had one long shift and two short ones so it could have been worse. Friday I had to work with Epstein all damn day which pushed me to my limits. He’s just so annoying, I wish I would have secretly hid my phone and recorded him so you all could really witness his vastly inferior personality. Then at least everyone would have that “Ah, now I see” moment and you could empathize with me to some degree.

He’s drilling me with questions about why I’m quitting, where I’m going, how much they are paying me, etc. I give him no answers and it gets him so worked up. The best part is when he said, “I’m getting tired with this place too. Are they hiring any more cooks?” I cannot express in text how funny this was to me, so I won’t bother trying. I told him, “Yeah, they are really desperate but only hire good ones, so I wouldn’t bother if I was you.” I started laughing after my statement so I don’t think he even thought I was serious, but I most certainly was. That was a direct and accurate insult you dumb dumb. First thing I do when I arrive tomorrow morning is tell them not to waste their time if he applies because they will be trading down in the roster between him and I. I don’t care how badly they need help; they will no longer have mine should they choose to even consider him, or anyone else from over there for that matter, minus my one buddy.

No one else really said anything related to the job switch except a few of the wait staff. They wished me well and said they’d really miss me. Two of the girls actually gave me a hug. That was really sweet I thought. Rex wouldn’t even look at me the whole weekend. He was forced to interact with me at one point because he needed a side of vegetables rushed and it wasn’t even my department. The other jackasses were choking too badly to do it. That must have took every ounce he had to bring himself to talk to me, idiot. He’s about as bad as a woman (forgive me ladies) when it comes to holding a grudge. Had he only knew what he was walking into, he’d likely not have transferred to this store as this one will eventually give him a nervous breakdown.

The relatively new kitchen supervisor/assistant manager, whatever you want to call him, I just call him stupid, was quite bitter with me on my last days. He told me that he’s not mad that I’m quitting, like I give a fuck, just bummed out that he’ll have to be putting in even more overtime now. That’s part of the management career friend. Good thing you’re going to learn that now than later and I’m so glad I was able to be part of your education. Be prepared to all but live there if you want the “prestige” and added responsibility of being a glorious part of the management club. So he tried to avoid me as much as possible too.

I never got a chance to work with the one I liked. He was pulling shifts at his other job, so I was a bit disappointed. I wanted to give him the opportunity of coming with me, as he talks of leaving all the time too. I guarantee I could get him a job where I’m going, but am not sure I would want to do that to the poor guy because like I said before, he’s cool shit. I’ll just keep it my own personal hell.

So anyways, when the time came to end my shift, I told the assistant KM I was calling it a night. He told me to check with Rex before I left to see if I could leave, yeah right, whatever. I clocked out and quietly slithered out the back door. When the fresh air hit my face, I felt a surge of relief come over me. I had a big smile on my face walking to my vehicle. It was so nice to be done with that nightmare, at least until next week when the new one begins.

About the restaurant I’m going to be working at. It’s just not pleasant. That’s the nicest way I can describe it. On busy days, we used to do two hundred plus customers per hour, yes per hour, and that was only with four cooks, two of which aren’t generally up to par so to speak. Sometimes only two of you have to fight through it if you’re short staffed. It’s tough, but doable if you’re hardcore enough. During the week, you are by yourself and you have to just take it and do the best you can. There’s another guy there but you don’t call for him unless you’re buried because prepping is extremely important. Wish those dicks would have realized that over there rather than just run out of shit every night, but I digress. The line is pretty compact to allow a single, good, cook the task. The mental stress is absolutely unbelievable if you give a shit enough to actually care if you do well, and I most certainly do. It does pay off eventually in terms of wages and perks because they NEED to keep people like that. The turnover rate is astounding.

I’ve seen countless employees completely lose it and walk out. I’ve observed a monster of a cook throw his spat at the wall like a MLB pitcher and bull rush a manager because he snapped after being told his ticket times were taking too long at the end of a dreadful shift. That guy was fucking awesome by the way and we still keep in touch. I’ve had several people tell me the reason they are always late is because they sit out in their car in the parking lot deciding if they want to come in or not. Another guy disappeared and was found in the pantry viciously punching and kicking boxes of product to get his pent up frustrations of the day released. I thought that was fairly amusing. I’ve witnessed many waitresses break down sobbing because it was just too much. That always broke my heart. The place you work at should never break a person down so thoroughly as to make them weep uncontrollably and just want to get out. It shouldn’t make someone violently explode in a fit of rage. I don’t think these people are weak at all; it gets to everyone eventually. Those few instances are just the tip of the iceberg. As I stated before, the mental stress is just so intense and people simply freak out. I’ve worked at a good share of jobs in my time on this planet, though have yet to find one with even remotely the pressure of this place.

I still vividly remember my last day there almost exactly five years ago. It was a Saturday morning during the Fourth of July weekend. We were getting raped per usual as a cook didn’t show. The GM comes back into the kitchen in plain summer clothes and tells us that both dishwashers and the prep cook called in sick. We had five, yes fucking five, buses scheduled in before noon plus there were softball tournaments in town, all with the holiday weekend in full swing. He said, “You guys just do the best you can.”, and fucking left! We were circling the drain when he appeared and now he abandoned us and his restaurant so he could go and enjoy the day!

At that moment, I decided my cooking career was over. The only reason I stayed for the rest of the day is because I wasn’t going to leave my two co-workers to even attempt to do what was coming by their selves. The douche bag of a GM had the nerve to leave multiple messages on my answering machine the next day saying how I was a bad employee and how ashamed he was that a lead cook would do such a thing. Had I been awake rather than passed out from the likely near alcohol poisoning from the night before, I would have loved to take his call. I would have marched right in to give him the opportunity to do it directly to my face, which I know for a fact he would never have. I’m a bad employee for doing such a thing when he just did it the day before. He willingly let his business fail that day without another worry, and I’m the bad employee. Get bent good sir, get bent indeed.

Years have passed and he no longer is the GM. Surprise, surprise. His underling now runs the place and he was always a really cool guy. He joked around and if you were a good employee, he NEVER made you feel like you were anything but an asset and respected member of the team. He let you know he appreciated you. He could have changed over the years though, we’ll see. I’m sure the place drained what was left of his human soul too, and now’s he a corporate drone. Hopefully not and I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt, but only time will tell.

Reminiscing about the past has jarred a couple of stories. To avoid any more of a novel, as usual, I will end this here and just put them in the next post. They are about three guys walking out one night, and a cook who went off of his anti-psychotic medicine. The tales aren’t anything special really, though do still have merit of how things went around there. Until then, in another day in the life of a line cook.