Last night was set to be the busiest night at the restaurant since I started working there.
To ensure success I (and the other line cook) was asked to be there at 3 to make sure we were all prepped out and ready to go.
I arrived a little early as I tend to do. At 3:15 when the other line cook still hadn’t arrived there was some question as to where he could be. An hour later and after a phone call to his house we were pretty certain he wasn’t coming in. Tension mounted, the three of us made phone calls to anyone we know who could possibly lend a hand. Looking for an available cook on a Saturday night was never really in the cards though.
As a last resort the chick intern we have (who works slower than molasses, but any help would have been welcome) was offered the job, and get this, she fucking turned the chef down. To make matters worse, she had friends coming who she was going to join. Surely she saw the look of terror in all of our eyes as 5:30 rapidly approached (we also had a reservation for a party of 14 at 5:30). And at 7 she left, just like that, not even considering just helping us out for the evening. At the end of the night the chef said “She’s dead to me” and admitted that he may tell her not to come back.
Somehow we made it through without major incident, though towards the end we were always walking a fine line between keeping it together and total disaster. We all did what had to be done to make sure the food went out as quickly as it could. Not one dish came back (incidentally no plates have been sent back since I’ve started). And not one dish had to be 86’d.
So I’ve been promoted to lead line cook and will begin to learn the saute station tonight. Also my days off are going to switch to Sunday and Monday, so that way I’ll be able to see more of my wife. It’s weird how such a fucked up situation could end up benefitting me so much.