T.G.I.M.?

Once upon a time, behind a cubicle far, far away, I couldn’t wait for Friday. Paychecks, weekends, take-out, the occasional gay bar. All the things a man lives for.

Now I find that weekends at a restaurant… suck. hard.

They’re busy, physically demmanding and late. I still love the feeling after service – but it is hard to get pumped up, walking in. At least for me.

Monday night was pretty mellow. Orders came at a slow and steady pace so no one was incredibly overwhelmed. Maybe one really busy point but it has certainly been worse.

But because I am who I am, I do have minor issue with a few things that can be considered annoying about being the new guy at the bottom of the totem pole.

1. People from other stations help themselves to your mise en place, sometimes throwing things off for you. For example, every day I peel a crap load of asparagus and baby carrots for my station, making sure that it is full and that I have available backups to get me through service. Suddenly, someone from the pasta or meat station will need to take some of my vegetables as garnish – so through the night, it they have a lot of orders for that particular dish that requires it then they need of lot of my stuff, putting me at risk of running out in the middle of dinner rush. Of course, I have learned to anticipate this now but it means that I have to almost double my prep, which means coming in a little earlier until I can get a little faster.

2. I am often responsible for mopping the floors. Sometimes sweeping and mopping. New guy crap, I suppose…

3. I am also called upon frequently to make runs to the lower level walk-ins or to one of the sister restaurants for pick-ups. More new guy crap. On the plus side, I noticed that I was having difficulty keeping my pants up during one of these said-runs the other day. Who have have thought that working with food would help keep weight off? Don’t get too excited – I’m no Usher. or whoever is ripped these days…

What also makes Monday special is that Tuesday is my day off. So tonight I treated myself to Five Guys and a cab home instead of the bus. Take that, loose pants…

Despite the frustration, I thought about this on the ride home – a year ago, this was a pipe dream for me. I wouldn’t have dared quit my desk job. It was not practical – not the safe thing to do.

Six months later, I am in the processing of completing a classical, French culinary arts degree AND expanding into Northern Italian cusine. I’m amazed.

That being said, I am seriously debating on whether or not to unplug my phone tomorrow so no one can call me or leave me a voice message. I need time to miss them.