Cookery in Pubbery
“SOMEBODY GET THIS GODDAMNED PIZZA OUT OF MY FUCKING FACE IN THREE SECONDS OR LESS, OR I’M GOING TO TEAR OUT THE THROAT OF THE NEXT FUCKING PERSON I SEE”
To set the scene, I’m a cook at a fancy restaurant and bar. it’s been nine hours since my shift started. Scheduled tonight were two cooks, a fry cook, and a dishwasher. I arrived to work an hour early in the company of a malnourished and sleepless demeanor, to be greeted by the gruff Boston- hailing owner with the following phrase; “You better have your game face on tonight, you’re going to get your ass kicked.”
“What is it this time?”
“James is sick, so he can’t stay. Tom was supposed to come in same time as you, but it’s his only day with his daughter so he won’t be in for a couple hours. Oh, and Tayler is your dishwasher tonight, Be sure to utilize him to make pizzas or whatever you need.”
“Tayler, aka Spongebob? He forgot to put cheese on the one pizza I had him make, and it was shaped like a goddamned jellybean.”
“You won’t see him after tonight, but at least it’s a warm body.”
____________
“Fuuuck man.” These are the first words of the kitchen manager James as I venture into the kitchen. He’s currently burning some pulled pork beyond recognition in one pan, and worrying about sports teams in Pittsburgh with the rest of his being. “Thanks for making the clam chowder yesterday, it was spot on.”
“My gift to you Jimmy, to show you I care.”
“Boss says we have to throw it out. Spongebob never put it in the walk-in when he closed yesterday, so it was just sitting out on the counter all night.”
“I… Wha… That sounds about right for today. I need a cigarette.”
“You just got here.”
“Hence, I need a cigarette.”
“Well I’m gonna get going, I can’t get over this sick thing. You should be alright till backup gets here, And if Spongebob's not here in ten minutes then call that fucker.
____________
Well, Spongebob never showed up for his dirge shift.
The tickets started rolling in one, two, three at a time. No cigarette. Another dishwasher shows up an hour or so later, with three hours of dishes to catch up on. Then four, five, six tickets at a time. No cigarette. I realize this alleged backup was merely a myth. I’m in the shit and there is no savior. The three scheduled cooks tonight are all me now.
8 burgers- 2 medium rare, 3 medium, 2 medium well, 1 well. Three are barbecue, 3 bacon avocado with pepperjack, 2 bacon blue cheese. Two with onion rings, three with fries, one with coleslaw, one with soup, one with a side salad. This is one ticket, for one table. while five more in the window include a full rack of ribs, asian steak salad, fried calamari, a pork chop, buffalo wings, macaroni and cheese, seared tuna, blackened salmon sandwich, a chicken quesadilla, jambalaya, fried zuchinni, sliders, pulled pork sandwich, and not one, damned, cigarette.
____________
Several hours pass in this same fashion before, in half a daze, I realized I had cleared all the tickets.
It’s four minutes until the kitchen closes. I ran outside as fast as I could, hastily grabbed a cigarette from the pack and sparked up the faithful ol’ zippo, when-
TICK TCK TCK TCK GGK GKKKK. 5 consecutive tickets. 2 full orders of onion rings, a NY strip steak, teriyaki wings, a chicken florentine sandwich, shrimp scampi, and a french dip. Three minutes from closing.
After yelling at the various servers to tell these customers I hope they die in a fucking fire, I finish up the orders and the kitchen is officially closed 15 minutes ago. I start the closing-up portion, which my faithful dishwasher and I are already two hours behind on in our respective halves of the kitchen, and start grabbing things from the mini-fridges and plastic-wrapping at a furious pace, when-
TICK TCK TCK TCK GGK GKKKK
No… It… It can’t be. I know we’re supposed to serve pizzas until the bar closes, but no one ever actually orders….
TICK TCK TCK TCK GGK GKKKK
Pepperoni Jalapeno. Easy enough, I haven’t put away the pizza ingredients yet
[Ten minutes later, after putting away the pizza ingredients]
TICK TCK TCK TCK GGK GKKKK
Hawaiian pizza with fresh basil? “Go tell this prick he’s a pretentious asshole. It’s fucking midnight! Fresh basil?!”
[after getting most of the kitchen put away, and in the midst of hosing out the fryers]
TICK TCK TCK TCK GGK GKKKK
Shrimp, mushroom, and prosciutto pizza, with an oil and garlic base. This is a fucking joke. It’s nearly one in the morning. I scoff in the face of this ticket. I seethe to such a point where I halt my current engagements, grab the ingredients from the walk-in, roll out the dough,and take extra time ensuring that this will be the most beautiful SHRIMP FUCKING PROSCIUTTO MUSHROOM PIZZA this moron will ever have in his life, let alone at midnight after a myriad of alcoholic beverages.
You’d be surprised how difficult it is to express irony through pizza. there was no way the drunkard consumer would ever feel the immense hate behind all the love I put into it, let alone the love.
I took the pizza out of the oven, looking the mere image of perfection. Sliced it into six perfectly equal, measured pieces, and put it in the window for the server to grab.
“Order up! Pizza PIZZA!”
I then proceeded to continue with kitchen shutdown, hosing off the floor mats outside and whathaveyou. About five minutes later, I look over and see the pizza. This… this “1 a.m. I’m a drunk asshole” shrimp mushroom prosciutto beauty just withering away under the heatlamp. Fading away from the perfection it had been mere minutes before.
And here we arrive back at
“SOMEBODY GET THIS GODDAMNED PIZZA OUT OF MY FUCKING FACE IN THREE SECONDS OR LESS, OR I’M GOING TO TEAR OUT THE THROAT OF THE NEXT FUCKING PERSON I SEE”
At which point the owner, who I have witnessed fire 25+ people in the six months I've worked there, just happens to walk back into the kitchen and say “What was that?”
To which I responded; “THIS PIZZA HAS BEEN SITTING HERE FOR LIKE FIVE FUCKING MINUTES. GET IT THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BEFORE I THROW ONE OF YOUR SERVERS IN A GOD DAMNED RIVER”
The man only smirks and says;
“Go have a fuckin’ cigarette Zachariah.”
I’m gonna remember that cigarette for a long time comin’.
