“Ratf*cked”

Monday night was ugly.  I got to work to set up my station for the night – hot apps, a station I’m still not that familiar setting up. 

I was getting pretty close to getting it set up when we realized that the guy who was supposed to work salads and desserts was late, very late.  So I was asked to set up that station and was told that I would be filling in there for the night.  Then a few minutes later plans changed and I was back on hot apps, and orders started rolling in. 

All night I played catch up and was never able to get ahead.  And at the worst time of the night our sous chef, who had been expediting, had to jump on the line to help the fish guy out.  This meant the manager had to expedite, and it was clear that he didn’t have much experience.  There was no “order/fire” calls, just walking in.  So for me it was next to impossible to keep track of what should actually be on fire.  In short, we were ratfucked, in the parlance of our kitchen.

If not for the grill/meat guy, I would have gone down.  But much thanks to him, because he kept my station afloat, and we made finally made it to the end of the evening.

As for the guy who was supposed to work salads, he apparently didn’t know he was supposed to work and was in Charlotte, a couple of hours away.  But a few hours later he did manage to show up while we were having no fun to pick up his paycheck.  You’d think he would have asked how he could help out, but instead he took off after some squabbling with the sous chef, a decision that won him no friends that night.

Tonight should be a fun night – we’re doing a different menu for the night, and fortunately we’re closed tomorrow, though the kitchen closes at midnight which really isn’t all that bad.  The only thing that’s going to suck is looking out for drunk assholes on my drive home.

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