Bored?

With summer approaching, so does the slow months in this business, unless you work at a waterfront or tourist establishment.

So what to do with all the extra time while we're supposed to be polishing, cleaning and keeping busy?

Most restaurant staff is ordinarily comprised of kids in their early 20's and, let's face it, not always the most mature of people. So during boring summer shifts practical jokes abound.

Last summer I worked with two brothers, Johnny and Jeff, natural born pranksters. Employees were asked to drink out of small paper cone cups because glassware was always scarce. They would bite tiny holes in the bottoms of the cups so when people filled them it would leak out the bottom and all over them without them realizing.

Before they would bring out the racks of glasses they would saran wrap all the glasses together so they'd be impossible to get out.

We switch our names around, adopt accents (southern and British tend to be common favorites), and compete to see how many times we can say words like pleasurable, hot or sticky at a table.

Ice is a common instrument, slid into the apron or shirt pockets unbeknown to the wearer until it melts and your breast pocket is soaked through.

If you know how to work the computer system your restaurant runs on you can get out of the ordering screen and mess a whole bunch of things up that way...not that I've ever done that (in case of prodding eyes). Be careful of this one though...I know people being sued because of their misuse of computer tricks.

Let's face it, we're not making any money anyway so we might as well have some fun.

On Bosses

What do they do?

The simple answer is not much.

Sure there's paperwork like P&L reports and liquor counts and ordering and meetings they're required to take care of...but they're all things you could train a 15 year old to do.

Most of the time all this is done by one manager with an existent work ethic. In my restaurant in falls on my man Gates, one of the best bosses I've ever had. He's the exception to the rule though.

For a lot of us, we've been doing this longer and simply have accumulated more experience over the years. Managers, general managers especially, tend to be lazy.

The only thing we really need them for is the special swipe care they have to do voids, comps, gift certificates and split checks. Give us that card and you'd only need one manager.

So since most of them avoid all office work, what do they do when they're not at the computer swiping their card (tough work, I know). They stand at the front door, they smile, they chitchat with guests, they do table touches where they check in on everyone's experience, they stand at the bar and watch tv, they stand at the line and watch food be run, every now and then they'll bend down to pick something up off the floor (or otherwise tell a server to).

Good job?

People argue that they're necessary on the floor because guests appreciate their authoritative presence. While it's probably true that guests feel comfortable with a "boss" nearby, that's the guest's own problem of naivete.

Allow me to enlighten you.

Most of them have less schooling than we do. Don't let the suit fool you. They're almost the same age as the rest of us. My current boss is 31 and in the five year difference in our age, the only thing he has on me is children. They talk more shit about you behind closed doors than even we do, they're just more political about it and hide it well. They lie to you, they bribe you, they manipulate you and then flutter off to another table to do the same.

What are they good at?

Bullshit and politics. The best liars I've ever met have been my bosses. Dave, my boss 6 years ago at Vinny T's could convince anyone that God exists then turn around and convince them he doesn't.

When do they suck the most?

One manager I had went next door on a really slow summer afternoon and bought us all toothbrushes. He made buckets of Murphy's Oil Soap and had us clean all the woodwork in the building with the toothbrushes.

Another bought flashlights so he could check under tables and chairs and pretty much everything to make sure it was all swept and clean...not to mention that same manager was severely addicted to cocaine.

They're not all bad, but they're rarely telling us anything we don't know and they aren't doing anything we couldn't do ourselves.

What Do You Do When You're Faced With Pretension

On Saturday I had the opportunity to try dining a different way.

My family and I went to Groton, MA to celebrate Mother's Day. It's a very small place called the Herb Lyceum that's only open on Friday and Saturday. They're technically not a restaurant, only seating a maximum of 30 people, and have no liquor license so it's BYOB...or anything for that matter, since all they serve to drink is water...albeit MINT water. They only have 1 seating and it's a preset 6 course meal, so for those who have difficulty ordering, it's already been decided for you. It's really more a private dinner party than a restaurant.

We were 1 minute late to arrive, my fault of course and when we walked in no one was there. We opened our own wine and was told by the "hired help" (with a full glass of win in her hand) that the rest of the guests were taking a tour of the herb gardens because it was such a beautiful night.

Wine in hand, we all traipsed back out the door and went over to the greenhouse where the owner was talking to the other group who were dining with us about the various herbs, origins, growth patterns...and oh my god who cares?

Glancing at the other party dressed to the nines and listening to their bizarre interest in herbs, I quickly discovered that I was in pretentious hell. They went on and on with their questions which eventually transformed into hearty discussions about wines and the cellar that the leader of this dullard group has.

You probably don't know my family, but while we love good food (of all pretensions), we are the furthest thing from snob. We like wine, but are nowhere close to winos. My father has long white hair that he pulls into a ponytail and is one of the most avid dirty joke/innuendo telling people I know and he's only urged by my younger brother who's not so bad himself.

We left the greenhouse and my family huddled together at the edge of the walkway as my father turned up his nose and started pointing things out as the herb leader had inside.

"See these lustrous flowers here? Those are d-a-n-d-e-l-i-o-n-s. And this," he pointed to one that had turned into a parachute ball, "is a special one that if you blow on it all your dreams will come true."

We walked down the hill and paused by a tree next to the building.

"Ahh and see this here?" He looked at the tree which had one of its limbs almost severed and pointed toward the ground, "This is a rare subterraneous tree that is grown into the ground instead of above."

As it turned out some people didn't show up so there were only 12 of us, 5 of us and 7 of them, in this small room which was just an oversized dining room of these people's house.

So needless to say, we were entirely out of our element.

But what could have been one of the most awkward of nights actually turned into one of the funniest.

We were served our "amuse" which was some sort of smoked salmon cream cheese blend served over 3 spinach leaves and garnished with 3 orange-y wedges, followed by an appetizer of shrimp friccassee with asparagus. As each course is served the chef...Chef Gregg (the Lightning) Whiting (yes he's as lame as he sounds) came out to explain in detail how each dish was made and make pretentious small talk with all of us.

The wine was flowing freely and we were two bottles deep when the soup, pea soup with chocolate mint and cream, arrived and the night finally took a turn for the better.

Chef Gregg boasted about how he personally shucked the peas one by one for the soup and our inappropriate minds started turning. My father and brother and I entered into a discussion about pea skin, which inevitably transformed into talk about pea's foreskin and eventually foreskin in and of itself.

"Do you grow peas?" My father asked our "hired help" of the night.

"I do, I have a lovely garden." My mother appropriately dubbed her the pre-school teacher, due to her mild tone and mannerism and her seemingly all-to-innocent mind.

"Do you eat them? How many do you eat in a week?" My brother and I covered our mouths because we knew what he was actually referring to.

"Oh tons, as many as I can!" She gushed.

"Do you have to peel back the skin when you eat them?" My father can be really good at keeping a straight face.

"I eat them skin and all."

We couldn't help our laughter and she was effectively deterred from returning to our table for a long time, confused about my father's banter.

The two younger girls, who were probably the owner's children came to clear our soup bowls away and my father (five vodka tonics and two glasses of wine deep) lost his filter.

"I love having little nymphs flying around clearing our plates every other minute...nymphos I mean."

As we waited for the entree of porkchops with spring onions and spicy beans my father began to talk about his fat hand.

On Friday his hand swelled up so that it's nearly twice the size. After going to the hospital and being put on antibiotics, he still finds himself with a mutant hand and therefore much conversation was based on his freakish mutation.

"I can't even take death in stride, being a monosexual, with my hand like this," he held up his hand in despair as we coughed into our glasses. "But still, it's great being a monosexual, come with me! We have unlimited resources!!"

Before the people next to us could understand what my father was referring to they brought out the main course and my family dug in before the chef came out to talk to us.

"I see some of you have already started," Chef Gregg didn't sound upset but you could tell everyone knew we didn't belong.

"Mea culpa!" my father yelled, "Punish us for not waiting for you!"

"So I went with porkchops this month, but next month I think I'm going to do filet 3-ways," he was quickly interrupted by my dad.

"Ooh I love 3-ways!" In his excitement he hit his hand on the edge of the table and cursed, "Ow, I banged my hand...well I am a monosexual, it's like a hand grenade." I could hear some nervous laughter from the other table but at this point I couldn't have cared less, tonight my father was a dirty stand-up in the most unacceptable of places and it only made everything that much funnier.

We made it through the cheese course and dessert, which was my favorite, creme brulee and the wine bottles had effectively been emptied. Small talk ensued at the other table with the chef and wino extraordinaire and as we waited for the check a small window of silence opened up.

My father decided at that moment to let loose one of the loudest farts I had ever heard from him, that vibrated the entire room.

"From one asshole to another!" He yelled and we were all still laughing hysterically as we stumbled out of the strange place and all the way home.

Perhaps it was the company we had been forced to dine with, maybe it was the establishment itself or a combo of the two but it was definitely not the place for us. The food was good, nothing terribly fantastic that I'll never forget, but at least they didn't make us bring our own plates along with drinks. I'd like to say that it wasn't worth the $270, but my family made it a night to remember and I've never loved them as much.

Happy Mother's Day!

On the Other Side of the Fence

I always have plenty to say when it comes to complaints about my job.  But there's a lot to point out from the other side of the table when I'm the guest.

I've eaten at a LOT of restaurants and I've learned that good servers and restaurants come in all shapes and sizes.

The best server I ever had was at a Friendlies on Lincoln St. in Worcester.  She was an older woman with brown hair cut in a mullet and she was absolutely fantastic, genuine, pleasant, nice helpful, perfect.  

It'd be too difficult to name a favorite restaurant, but just to name a few...

Fugakyu in Brookline, Massachusetts ~ [Japanese] Incredible cuisine with a picture book to help make decisions along with a large specialty drink menu.  A lot of the seating is in the floor and tables are enclosed by sliding screens with seating up to the hundreds per party.

Texas de Brazil in Orlando, Florida ~ [Brazilian] It starts with an amply supplied salad bar (with way more than just salad) after which the real event begins.  Each person is given a coaster, red on one side, green on the other.  People with huge skewers of meats from lamb to steak to chicken come by and skewer you off whatever and how much ever you want.

The Sole Proprietor and One Eleven Chop House both in Worcester, Massachusetts ~ [Seafood/Steakhouse] Owned by the same company, they are great in their own specialities, seafood and steak.  The Chop House has great lamb as well. 

While there are many other restaurants that I like, many of which I can't immediately recall, these are some that make it to the top of the list.

Some recent and old favorites of mine (absolutely not exclusive):

Best appetizers ~ Mussels Roma at the Boynton in Worcester, Panko Fried Brie Cheese at Cobblestones in Lowell, MA Cracklin' Bread at Fireflies in Framingham/Marlboro

Best dinner ~  Gorgonzola Rack of Lamb at the Block Five in Worcester, MA (before they changed it) there's something fantastic everywhere though.

Best dessert ~ Banana Caramel Xangos at the Boynton in Worcester, MA

Best drink ~ Pear martinis at Jae's Grill in Brookline, MA and Flirtinis at The Sole in Worcester, MA and Heavens to Margatroid at Margaritas in Waltham, MA...okay I drink a lot, there's no way to name a favorite drink.

Best ambience ~ Fugakyu, The Melting Pot

Interestingly enough, these are all places that I've never worked, which is perhaps why I still enjoy them so much.

Sergeant Afrin

I hate politics.

Not in the sense of democrats or republicans, but societal politics.  

When I was playing softball in high school I was starting catcher up until a new girl moved in.  Despite the fact that I was on a national qualifying travel team, starting and had more experience and better skill, this girl replaced me my junior year and it's all because of politics. 

 

My parents were very busy and weren't always able to come to games or support the team as much and rarely even spoke to my coach.  This new girl's mom was all about involvement and with some careful maneuvering she was able to secure her daughter a starting position.

I hated it then and I hate it now.

It's even worse now that I'm older and I won't put up with bullshit like that, and it's abundant within my job.  

Sunday night I came in for my usual shift and was confronted by my sergeant turned manager.

"What happened on Friday?"

I had come into work and wasn't on the floorplan.  I had no sidework and no section and so I simply left.  There were 19 people on the floor which is what they like to have on a Friday so I assumed they didn't need me and began my weekend early.  

"We're going to have a sit down with Gary next time you come."  

No big deal, I was sure they'd just tell me to let them know next time so they're aware.  But five minutes later he comes back up to me.

"Go home and come back on Thursday."

Go home?  I'm being sent home for not working when they didn't need me nor did they realize I was even supposed to be working.  Interesting enough, when I came in for my shift on Saturday night nothing was said to me about the previous evening, probably because they couldn't afford to let me go that night.  

I asked another of my managers who agreed that it was bullshit.  This man does not like me, nor do I like him.  He's not the worst boss I've ever had but he may be the most incompetent.  I could run circles around him doing twice what he could do.  

So I understand what's going on.  I've been doing this too long.  He's fishing.  He wants me gone and so he's going through all the legal channels, pointing out the most trivial things in an attempt to get enough dirt to fire me.  All because we don't get along.  Okay that's an understatement, we yell at each other every chance we get.  

Bring it.

You can fire me and I'll have another job tomorrow, but that's the only power you'll ever have.  You'll never be anything significant or important, you'll never do anything worth mentioning, you'll probably never even get married or have children because who'd want you?  When I change the world I won't even remember your name but you'll understand just how much of a pathetic loser you really are.