09:30 Arrive at work after buying corn at Mick-or-Mack for our salad special.(Lobster and corn salad nonetheless.)Looking to be a bright sunshiny day.
09:32 My boss tells me he has sent the other cook to fetch the dish guy whose scooter has died a violent death.
09:40 I turn on the usual equipment and go into the walk-in cooler where I blindly step on a portion cup containing salad dressing. The light in the walk-in is a CFL and takes forever to light up.
09:41 I cuss under my breath and head to the dish-room for the mop. There isn’t a head on the mop. I grab a handful of paper towels and head back to the cooler. I clean up the squashed dressing, still cussing to myself.
09:45 I leave the cooler to throw away the soiled paper towels. First, I have to find a trash bag to line the can. Apparently we are temporarily out of bags.
09:50 I return to the walk-in where I immediately knock over another dressing and step on it. Cussing out loud now, I go and get more paper towels.
10:20 The other cook and the dishwasher arrive and we start setting up and prepping for the day.
11:05 First customers of the day arrive and seat themselves. We open at 11:30. I know this because it says so in BIG LETTERS AND NUMBERS on the front door. They are accompanied by an extremely vocal child.
11:10 The server comes into the kitchen to tell us that the child has been given the sugar, salt, and pepper caddy and is drawing all over it, and the table, with crayons. We don’t have crayons. Please, feel free to bring your own personal tools of vandalism.
11:11 As I am instructing the server to “hurry and get their order so we can get them the hell out of here” I see the child dart behind the bar and start grabbing liquor bottles from the well. My first thought was; what the hell, maybe quaffing a bit of the stiff stuff will quiet him down. First rounds on me. Alas, no such luck. They manage to catch the little bastard.
11:30- 14:00 Smooth lunch. Rocked it out.
14:05 While the other cook and dish guy finish knocking out prep, I start on my truck orders for the next day. As I am checking inventory in the walk-in, I step on another dressing. Even I am embarrassed by the words that come out of my mouth.
14:30 I finish my truck order and wait on my sales reps. And wait. And wait. They usually roll through the front door at two o’clock on the dot.
15:00 I tell the guys in the kitchen they are free to leave at any time. I ask the dish guy if he wants to just stay straight through since he is scheduled back at six. That way he won’t have to worry about a ride back to work. He says he has it covered. His girlfriend will bring him in.
15:05 My reps arrive. We have tickets coming in so the guys will have to stay until I finish my order.
15:15 I finish one order with the first rep.
15:30 As I am giving the second order to “our favorite rep ever” I notice the pupils of her eyes get big and black. Like a cat’s right before they pounce on something. It’s then that I notice the first rep standing behind me. What to do? When a cat’s eyes get like that, something is going to be shredded. Trying not to make any sudden moves, I say goodbye and try to direct him out of the kill zone.
17:00 I clock out and leave to go home for the day.
17:20 I arrive home and begin to get out of my greasy, smelly work clothes.
17:22 My phone rings. Dish guy says he doesn’t have a ride to work.His girlfriend broke up with him. He lives on the other side of bum-fuck Egypt. I get redressed and head back. Looks like I’m dishing this evening.
18:00 I arrive to a mountain of dishes. How the hell they managed to dirty that many, that quickly is beyond me.
18:05 Notice that one of the two night cooks doesn’t seem to look well. He’s white as a sheet. Not a good look for a Black guy. I ask him if he’s alright. Says he’s fine. No problem.
18:30 Send cook home after he almost passes out on the line. So I am now dishing and cooking.
19:10 Floor drain in the dish-room erupts like Mt. Vesuvius. Floods the entire kitchen. I think I introduced the staff to a few new words. We shut down the dish machine as we don’t know what is causing the mini-tsunami. We switch to hand washing the dishes for the remainder of the evening.
19:30 As we are cleaning the floors and cooking tickets, the FOH manager requests that I come talk to a customer about her special dietary needs. I’m sure his twigs and berries shrunk up when he saw the look I gave him.
19:32 I’m out front listening to a fifty something hippie chick explain to me how even a microscopic drop of anything remotely mammalian will plunge her into an immediate and irreversible spiral of death. Her exact words. No joke. I have witnesses. She tells me that all I have to do is completely clean my grill and a spatula, sanitize my cutting board and knife and keep any mammal byproducts away from her food and she should be safe. I inform her that would not be possible as we are at the moment getting our asses handed to us and can’t possible stop cooking everyone else’s food. Actually, I phrase it a bit nicer and tell her we will do our best.
20:00 I call the owner to give him the skinny on the drain situation. Says he will call someone.
20:30 The owner calls to tell me the plumber will be here in the a.m. I ask him if we can close the kitchen early and switch to bar menu at nine o’clock. He says no problem.
20:35 A party of fifteen walks in the front door. Of course, no one had called ahead.
22:10 We are finished cleaning. As I am putting the last of the prep away in the walk-in (you know what’s coming), I step on another dressing. I leave it and go home.