Sweet Jesus, Bite Your TongueI've got a new job, I'm no longer in the kitchen, sweating and figuring out how to deal with not enough work for most of the time and too much work the rest of the time, speaking in a weird half-spanish of curse words and threats. Nowadays, I wear a shirt with
buttons to work, and I can't say
fuck as much as I'm used to.
I left my job as CHEF to take a chance on some front of the house management, the idea being that if I'm going to ask people for money for my restaurant later on, I'd better be able to prove that I know something about labor cost, about managing a wait-staff etc. etc. etc.......I'm looking to come off as a well rounded-restauranteur, before I ever attempt to become a restauranteur.
It's a weird transition, going from sticking my hand in the 500 degree oven to smiling and waving at the mom with her $2,000 stroller. My customer service skills aren't at the level I'd like them to be at......and I'm not so good at dealing with the more sensitive side of a restaurant either. Waiters tend to cry a lot faster than Mexican line cooks, and they also seem a lot more comfortable and less embarrassed when you push them out of the way and do their job for them. There's a macho part of cooking that I really like, a swagger that people who do their job well have that doesn't translate into other jobs in a restaurant. That swagger is bi-gendered, for sure. I know several female cooks that have bigger balls than most of the waiters that I know.
What I'm trying to get at, for sure, is that I've reached a point in this career where uppercutting someone in the balls is no longer an option. So I'm back to uppercutting strangers in the balls.
