It’s been almost two months since I started working in this restaurant. It feels like ten.
I made the decision to change careers because I am passionate about food. It seemed like a valid reason. At school I was proficient in the kitchen and truly enjoyed working with my hands. I was warned about some of the hardships of the industry but I knew – maybe thought – I could handle them. Even though I knew what I was getting myself into, there have been days during the past two months where I had serious thoughts of making a grand exit like that crazy JetBlue flight-attendant who popped open the plane chute and jumped. What would be the culinary equivalent? Not too sure but thoughts of sledding down the stairs on a full sheet pan did cross my mind on a particularly stressful night.
The other night I had some drinks with some of my FCI classmates to commiserate about our new jobs. My friend who shares the same crazy hours and competitive work environment as I do seemed to share my irrational thoughts about walking out on stressful days. My other friend was a different story. She didn’t have those crazy thoughts at all, but I have a feeling it has something to do with her unionized kitchen which inevitably means better pay, much less hours, and what is this? Two days off a week??? I look upon those days with whimsy.
Things get better though. The stress is the same but the good news is that you will learn… eventually. Don’t get me wrong, there is never a day where I feel like a complete idiot at some point during the day. But I suppose if I didn’t that would mean that I knew everything and had nothing left to learn. That day will never come.
A friend at work, who has the most unfaltering attitude about work I can’t help but be a little jealous, has given me many words of wisdom since I started. He has been my yoda so to speak, my Mr. Miyagi in Chef whites. Wax on, wax off. You need to get your work done and block out all the bullshit around you. Remember your goals and stick to them. If you let every insult get to you, you will quit. I like to think that I can find a balance between it all.
Hopefully none of you will hear about some crazy cook who stole a full sheet pan from work and rode it down Park Avenue.
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Hang in there nena…I worked at Keens Steak House on 36th for several years, where if after trailing behind the counter a new sous or saucier was still being called by their name instead of a profanity, it meant Friday would be their last day