"I came up to the window one day to pick up the food for one of my tables, and there was no one in the kitchen. It was completely deserted. All our cooks are Muslims from Senegal, and they were out back praying.

Now how am I supposed to get my food when it's prayer time?"

--Waiter at Houlihans, in Midtown

..........

I'm still in New Orleans and I was out to dinner last night at this seedy little dive called Oceana, right off Bourbon Street. Just got tired of nice places and Oceana offered the pleasant bonus of meal moths flitting among the lights hanging from the ceiling.

I'm sitting at the bar and right away I can tell the bartender is having problems. It's just not happening for her. So I start talking to her and she tells me she's just moved to New Orleans after graduating from UC Santa Cruz where she majored in physics. She is also a classical pianist.

Apparently this is her first restaurant job and she fills me in that the owner (this fifty year-old Arab with a huge pot belly) is banging one of his waitresses, paying her rent and cell phone bill.

"But he's really trying to sleep with me," she adds. And I'm thinking, "Well, why do you think he hired you?"

Apparently, this is Miss Santa Cruz's first restaurant job and she's shocked at all the "drugs and sex" going on, apparently more than she found even at UC Santa Cruz. She then tells me that she's "not going to get involved in all this."

So if I could, I would like to ask all you readers to please pause for a brief moment and pray for Miss Santa Cruz; pray that she does not wake up one morning, hung over and completely repentant that during the previous night's bender she ended up banging her pot bellied boss on the office desk of this pathetic pisshole

But let's continue with Roger who works south of NYU. Here he's talking about the problems with the kitchen.

****************

Our head chef is a man who I really like. He's very, very nice. He's middle eastern and he's very much about, "God bless everyone. I made you some food. Eat up" He's that kind of guy, nice, kind of plump jolly guy. And he works CRAZY hours.

Sometimes, he's a little particular about things. You'll ask, "Can you put lemon on this?"

"No! That's not how I make it."

The problem is that he's only there during the days. So when I come in at night, I'm working with three Mexicans. And the reality is that they are very bitter. I think because they are not doing what they really want to be doing. They probably did not come to America to work in a kitchen and be paid really low, which I'm sure they are, because I don't even know if all of them are legal.

So you're basically working with a lot of bitter, not-very-English-speaking guys and it's very difficult. When a customer sends something back, it's sometimes a hassle.

You're at a table and it's like, "Okay, your burger's not done enough? I'll have them cook it a little more" Oh great...so you go back to the kitchen, "Guys could you please, please just cook this a little longer?"

"You told me medium!"

"Yea, I know that's what they said, but they said it's not done enough."

"What do you want? You said medium!"

"I understand that. It's not me, it's the customer." Ya' know, and you have to go through that bullshit all the time.

1:02:12 AM     comment []