Deep inside the service Industry
I have referred to my working position as that of a bar manager, which is not exactly what I am. My official position and the title that I’ve been appointed is that of “Kitchen Supervisor”. I am directly responsible for the inventory and purchasing of all supplies, minus the alcohol. That’s in the very capable hands of the actual bar manager, Joan. She’s been known to imbibe as well but she’s also married and understandably her appearances are limited to the occasional cameo appearance on the barfly circuit.
I also schedule the kitchen personnel and monitor the quality and appearance of the food that comes out of the back because, unlike Red’s Smokehouse, we do have many customers who come to eat. Joan basically monitors the quality of the barfly before she renders the fateful decision to cut them off or not. For both of us, these quality conclusions can decide the future health of a customer.
My job is more cerebral in nature. I realize this may seem like a great irony to many, as prudence and intellect are traits very seldom associated with kitchen personnel. Essentially I am a coordinating consultant and my main priorities might be deemed administrative. There is a serious responsibility that comes with the investment of another’s money. The combined purchases must offer a sound financial return to the investors, your bosses. It’s a general expectation that they end up with more money then they started with. It’s not rocket science, it’s called capitalism. It’s an ideology that provides me with an acceptable comfort level despite my disdain for it.
Just like Wall street and the Dow Jones there is always the potential for a volatile market. There is a very strong correlation between the service industry and the mysterious world of the stock market itself. If people are broke then they’re not going to spend money. If they have money then it adds credibility to our suggestion that they should spend some of that money at our pub.
It’s that rationale, combined with mitigating circumstances such as weather and a potential Trump led American military invasion of Canada,
that is considered when spending other people’s money. There is a metaphor to be made for that case of celery that appears not long for this world. It can represent two things: 1) A severe overestimation of the current celery market which would appear to be a money losing venture. However, there is a counterpoint: 2) Instead of being loathed as a bad investment, the celery can magically morph into a wonderfully profitable Soup of the day! Both an argument for reincarnation and a unique take on the Ugly Duckling allegory. Old Hans Christian Andersen surely would beam with pride. That’s the ordering part of my job in its condensed form.
The scheduling part is often the most uncomfortable aspect of my job because it has to be done right. The varying personalities of each employee provides unique consideration when scheduling them. Each individual has different qualities to be utilized and shortcomings to avoid. Each known combination is carefully explored in an effort to achieve maximum success for the business. It’s an intuition that’s based squarely on cause and effect.
It’s a practical rule of thumb that if one’s shortcomings outweigh their qualities then that limits the potential for maximum success. The individual themselves will then be considered a bad investment. If that proves to be the case, then their name is probably not going to be listed on the schedule anyhow. Sadly, at this time, we can only declare these folks as assholes and not a shrewd tax write off.
Therefore my personal opinion of another human being is required. I am aware of the seething resentment that my opinions can have on others and how it formulates the basis of their opinion on me in return. The endured acrimony of a bitter divorce provides me with the thick skin required for unpopular decision making. If you’ve ever been an active parent then you can attest to the bitterness of opposing thought and you know how this prepares you for occasional condemnation as well.
As I’ve mentioned I have a solid rapport with my employers, Peter and Kevin. They are quite different from the previous owner of The Surly Snail, the curiously named pub that they purchased from him almost 4 years ago. His name was Bruce and the suggestion that he had an abrasive personality would be a grand understatement. He loved to drink too and so we had that in common. That’s about it though, as many of the opinions that he shared openly were in direct contrast to my own views. He came across as an arrogant narcissist and proud practitioner of misogyny, racism and the usual philosophies that you could expect from such a mind. Strangely though, he pledged his political allegiances to the green party. If there was ever a time when I felt entrapped in the world of male prostitution, it was at that time. He paid me and I took the money without protest. Not my proudest moments.
Peter and Kevin are complete polar opposites. They are close friends that also happen to live together and this results in the obvious speculation that they may be a gay couple. Whether they are or not is of no concern to me. They’re both good people and I consider them my friends regardless. If anything, their personal bond reinforces my confidence in the stability of the business. Of course, that confidence results in a much more agreeable level of comfort for me.
I myself share a house with two other people due to unreasonable fiscal demands. It enables all three of us a mutually dignified alternative to the parasitic nature that can be perceived when living with ageing parents. One of my housemates is a co-worker named Dan and the other is named John.
John is the father of two of my daughter’s four children. History has successfully taught them the folly of a proposed intimate relationship with each other. The lesson learned, being the fact that their vain attempts resulted in children and there is an anticipated need for a cooperative effort in order to provide for them. Unfortunately, one of their children was born with a mental handicap that requires a great deal of attention. Not just the kind of attention suggested by a pensive look. There’s a ton of required patience and physical labour required from both parties.
While I am very fond of these gentlemen, we are not inclined to have sex together. Undoubtedly there are bound to be those who speculate. I know that I would be personally both amused and mortified by some of the scenarios that these speculators have conceived. These days it would appear that wild speculation has become a widely accepted part of everyday life.
Peter and Kevin are both younger than Joan and myself, and we affectionately refer to them as the “boys”. They are both grown adult men and are not to be confused with the “kids”. The “kids” are the other employees that are also adults, some of whom still live at home with their parents for inexplicable reasons. The high cost of living is obviously a popular claim that factors in the excuse. However there are some that, despite adult appearances, match the apt description that “kid” implies with their immaturity and a bewildering lack of accountability. These are the elderly “teenagers” that I’ve previously mentioned. Their very survival is a risky proposition if Charles Darwin’s theory on evolution proves to be correct. This is another element worthy of consideration.
All final decisions are rightfully at the discretion of the boys. I am authorized to make many decisions on their behalf in relation to my position. If I make the wrong call then it is within their right to question my reasoning and I am very respectful of the fact that it is their business and their money. I am fortunate to have earned their trust and I have every intention of justifying it. I realize that I’m human and so I am very methodical in trying to limit any mistakes. Perhaps my own vanity motivates me but, with being fat and ugly already, I would hate to discover that I’m stupid too.
You know by now how much I vociferously detest the term “chef” and all the pompous prestige that it mistakenly insinuates. The literal translation is that of a skilled cook, often regarded as the head of the kitchen. I am recognized by Peter and Kevin as the head of their kitchen. This is not because I am any more skilled than the other cooks. I definitely have more experience than the others but this is obviously relative to my age and a tired resignation to the sad fact that it’s a little too late in the game to opt for a new career. I don’t operate under the pretext that I’m somehow better than the others and that my life somehow carries any more currency than their own. Truth is, I honour the commitment that I have made to my employers by showing up for every scheduled shift and providing the services that are expected of me. I also don’t bullshit and I believe that the boys find that refreshing.
Like anybody else, I have a personal agenda. I would like to go down with dignity and an internal peace. At 63 years old there is no reason for petty jealousies and regrets. I have an affinity and deep respect for my fellow souls but, unfortunately, that has its limitations. This is particularly true when seeking an internal peace. I find it necessary to consciously avoid banality and the residual sloth that a majority of people openly embrace. Clearly, I feel that I’m in the minority and it’s getting harder to interact without becoming a bullshitter myself. I don’t want to lie in order to fit in. If the majority rules then I suppose I’m not going to fit in. At least if I’m being honest..
I have made it clear to all that if somebody wants my job then I would gladly step aside. However, they better be able to demonstrate that they’re capable before warranting any thoughtful consideration by the folks who pay them. Bullshit and false bravado can only go so far.
If somebody thinks that there’s any particular glory in ordering supplies and arranging a schedule then I can assure you that there is not. If what I do stands in the way of your aspirations then might I suggest readjusting your goals in life. Trust me when I tell you this. I would much rather be eulogized for having been a good person than as somebody who made a good soup.