(no subject)
Work has been So Incredibly Busy.
We opened to the public on the 12th, and it has been non-stop craziness ever since. Though I guess it was expected, as we had to turn away a bunch of people every day before the 12th, because they kept coming up to ask if we'd open early for them.
Apparently we had one of the biggest openings in the corporation's history (out of about 550+ other restaurants under their corporate umbrella) and it put us squarely in the top ten percent. So go us, I guess. But, oh no, it didn't stop there. It's been that busy every single day since then, with people lining up outside because the queue stretches past the door.
Things have also been tight because we're heinously understaffed - by about six people. Which means that lunch breaks are sort of a luxury we back of the house folks can't afford; because it would leave the only other poor sap in the kitchen stranded, trying to do four jobs instead of two. So, aside from nipping outside for 5 or 10 minutes every few hours, there's no break in the all-day madness. I put in a 14 hour shift on Saturday alone, and would've done somewhere around 18 hours yesterday, but I ended up heading home at the end of my scheduled shift because I've been fighting off some weak-ass flu and needed sleep.
As with every restaurant, there is always some sort of friction between the kitchen crew and the wait-staff. Usually because the kitchen tasks are a hell of a lot harder to do, and yet the girls up front are forever coming back to whine to us about their feet/back/head hurting, and how hungry or tired they are. Generally they do this when we are trying to work on enormous orders.
The worst is probably K, whose daily complaints about her weight (350lbs, at least) causing her pain are slowly driving me mad. I've offered to help get her into shape, but she clearly will never take me up on it because then she'd have less to bitch about. These weight-related complaints are usually paired with her going, 'MAN I AM SO HONGRY. CAN I HAVE SOME OF THAT FOOD?' at top volume, while we're preparing a meal. It's hard to take her heaviness woes seriously when she's always stuffing her face.
So yeah, yesterday she was alternately whining and begging for food, and Hernan (my cool-ass partner in kitchen crime) and I were the only ones working in the kitchen, and got fed up with it. So he grabs a spare chicken drumstick, coats it with atomic sauce (seriously the most horrifyingly spicy thing you will ever encounter, I tried it once and my mouth burned for an hour) and then dips it in the brightly-colored 'mild' sauce, to conceal the flaming death. Then he elbows me and tells me what's up, I snicker and immediately find something to do nearby as he walks it over to K and tells her she can have an extra piece of chicken.
She carried it to the back and started eating, and then we heard a piercing shriek, followed by squealing and tears.
Oh man, we laughed until it hurt. It's the little things in life that you cherish.
But yes, work is good. Incredibly, astoundingly busy, but good. Yesterday's lunch rush was intense, and went on for about two hours. Both of our order lines were completely filled, and we had to start stacking tickets on the side of the prep-counter, to be dealt with after the twenty that were already up there.
I come home every day smelling of food, and covered in various flavors of sauce, but at least I feel accomplished.
Today is my first day off, and I am chilling in my robe and obnoxiously-colored pajamas. I expect to be called and asked to work at some point in the next few hours. I will have to weigh my desire for cash-money against the knowledge that I am slightly sick, my hands are covered in tiny cuts and blisters, and my shoulders are pretty fucking sore. Still, money will probably win out.
Oh, and I got a raise yesterday. We weren't supposed to be up for a raise for at least three months, so I'd say that's a good sign.
We opened to the public on the 12th, and it has been non-stop craziness ever since. Though I guess it was expected, as we had to turn away a bunch of people every day before the 12th, because they kept coming up to ask if we'd open early for them.
Apparently we had one of the biggest openings in the corporation's history (out of about 550+ other restaurants under their corporate umbrella) and it put us squarely in the top ten percent. So go us, I guess. But, oh no, it didn't stop there. It's been that busy every single day since then, with people lining up outside because the queue stretches past the door.
Things have also been tight because we're heinously understaffed - by about six people. Which means that lunch breaks are sort of a luxury we back of the house folks can't afford; because it would leave the only other poor sap in the kitchen stranded, trying to do four jobs instead of two. So, aside from nipping outside for 5 or 10 minutes every few hours, there's no break in the all-day madness. I put in a 14 hour shift on Saturday alone, and would've done somewhere around 18 hours yesterday, but I ended up heading home at the end of my scheduled shift because I've been fighting off some weak-ass flu and needed sleep.
As with every restaurant, there is always some sort of friction between the kitchen crew and the wait-staff. Usually because the kitchen tasks are a hell of a lot harder to do, and yet the girls up front are forever coming back to whine to us about their feet/back/head hurting, and how hungry or tired they are. Generally they do this when we are trying to work on enormous orders.
The worst is probably K, whose daily complaints about her weight (350lbs, at least) causing her pain are slowly driving me mad. I've offered to help get her into shape, but she clearly will never take me up on it because then she'd have less to bitch about. These weight-related complaints are usually paired with her going, 'MAN I AM SO HONGRY. CAN I HAVE SOME OF THAT FOOD?' at top volume, while we're preparing a meal. It's hard to take her heaviness woes seriously when she's always stuffing her face.
So yeah, yesterday she was alternately whining and begging for food, and Hernan (my cool-ass partner in kitchen crime) and I were the only ones working in the kitchen, and got fed up with it. So he grabs a spare chicken drumstick, coats it with atomic sauce (seriously the most horrifyingly spicy thing you will ever encounter, I tried it once and my mouth burned for an hour) and then dips it in the brightly-colored 'mild' sauce, to conceal the flaming death. Then he elbows me and tells me what's up, I snicker and immediately find something to do nearby as he walks it over to K and tells her she can have an extra piece of chicken.
She carried it to the back and started eating, and then we heard a piercing shriek, followed by squealing and tears.
Oh man, we laughed until it hurt. It's the little things in life that you cherish.
But yes, work is good. Incredibly, astoundingly busy, but good. Yesterday's lunch rush was intense, and went on for about two hours. Both of our order lines were completely filled, and we had to start stacking tickets on the side of the prep-counter, to be dealt with after the twenty that were already up there.
I come home every day smelling of food, and covered in various flavors of sauce, but at least I feel accomplished.
Today is my first day off, and I am chilling in my robe and obnoxiously-colored pajamas. I expect to be called and asked to work at some point in the next few hours. I will have to weigh my desire for cash-money against the knowledge that I am slightly sick, my hands are covered in tiny cuts and blisters, and my shoulders are pretty fucking sore. Still, money will probably win out.
Oh, and I got a raise yesterday. We weren't supposed to be up for a raise for at least three months, so I'd say that's a good sign.