So I started a new job on top of the wine bar. It's a wonderful little gallery called Mr. Musichead.
This means I'm working over 70 hours a week. It has been years since I've worked this much...as you can imagine, this has been quite a shock to my system. Oh, by the way, this is only day two and I almost lost my shit on one of the cooks at the restaurant. He's the kind of person who smirks when he's mean to you and especially when he has SERIOUSLY gotten under your skin.
There is a very charming dynamic in restaurants between the FOH (front of house) and the BOH (back of house) that basically consists of making sure you make each other's job as difficult as possible. Tonight went a little something like this:
Dealing with high maintenance women who don't like their wine. One is allergic to gluten or is on a no carb diet, like every other woman in L.A. She asks me what kind of cheeses come on the charcuterie. In our restaurant, it's chef's choice and so it is often a random selection. I went to ask the kitchen...
ME: What kind of cheese is on the charcuterie tonight?
CHEF #2: (biggest fucking attitude for no reason) Hook's cheddar, Mt. Tam, and whatever I feel like.
ME: Can you tell me what that might be?
CHEF #2: Maybe the aged goat (which tastes like dirty socks, probably not something this particular customer would like) or the sheep.
ME: Great. Thanks. Cheddar, Mt. Tam, and a mystery cheese.
I go back to the table and tell her. She says she wants extra salami and no pork rillettes, as it comes on toast. I relay this message to the kitchen...
ME: Can i get extra salami instead of rillettes?
COOK #2: Umm...I guess.
ME: *roll eyes* while mentally flipping him off (this is hour #13 of work)
Plank comes out with extra cured pork loin instead. ARRRGHHHHH!!!
ME: Ummm, I asked for extra salami
COOK #2: Yeah, we don't have salami...we have saLUMI.
ME: Ummmmm....well, SALUMI actually just means there is more than one kind of salami.
Of course he knew exactly what I wanted but had to be a wise ass, which is what I called him. I'm pretty sure this made him giggle to himself the rest of the night. I realized later it would have been better to call him something more tough, like "fuck ass." The funny thing is, this was just the tip of the iceberg compared to how horribly unpleasant he normally is. He's also the same kind of person who preaches conspiracies about the government, the same shit we used to do when we were angry teenagers. Did I mention he has a mohawk? Yeeeeaaaahhhh...
OH maaan...I don't know how I'm going to keep up with a blog on top of everything else. I can't write anymore...here's a lovely youtube video from one of my favorite movies instead, which also happens to contain one of my favorite movie soundtracks. It will be far more entertaining than all the complaints I have about my evening...
YOU, ME, AND EVERYONE WE KNOW