Being a fraternity chef may seem all fun and games, but there is a dark side. A dark side that makes me jump up and down yelling “KILL! KILL!!!” (I love referencing Arlo Guthrie). The dark side is that I work for frat boys. I know I know this seems rather obvious considering I’m a fraternity chef. But take a moment and really think about that. What would it really be like to work for a bunch of college boys who have crazy drunk parties and throw around perfectly good sausages (this is the 4th time I’ve found sausages or hot dogs thrown around the morning after a big party. I wonder what Freud would say.) If you answered frustrating, sometimes nauseating and generally resulting in the pulling out of one’s own hair/ kicking of concrete walls, you would be correct. Don’t get me wrong, I love cooking for the brothers. My dad thinks it must be the world’s perfect job. But, sometimes I would like to bring a big hammer and knock them all on the head a couple times.
The problem generally lies in the fact that I have to rely on getting all the information I need to successfully complete my job from a couple of frat boys. Things I need to know that they need to tell me: How many people are eating this week? When am I working and when am I not working? What is my budget?
In order to help smooth the flow of information I set up a schedule for myself, and let all interested parties know. By Monday, at the latest, I give them the menu for the next week so the guys on half meal plan can determine what meals they want to eat. On Friday immediately after serving brunch at 10:30am, I go shopping for the next week’s groceries (unless there are extenuating circumstances requiring that I shop on a different day). By Friday at 10:30 I need to know the four things I mentioned above. Number of times I’ve been given all four things by Friday at 10:30… probably about twice. Which generally doesn’t create a major issue as I am a smart enough person to take previous information (how many people generally eat lunch on Wednesdays, that more people will eat pizza than grilled cheese and tomato soup… etc) and apply it to the present situation. The problem is we’ve started a new semester, so the numbers are very different from last semester. Unfortunately, I don’t have an accurate count of those numbers. So, after asking the steward (the person who is supposed to get me this information) just about every day this week to please get me the information before I go shopping Friday… Well, it’s currently Friday at noon… Not only don’t I have the information, but I was just now told (at noon on Friday) that next week they will only need me for lunches as it’s rush. Ok… so what’s my budget? “Uhhhh… I don’t know.” When will you know? “Umm…” I live over an hour away and can’t go home and wait for you to figure it out, when is the soonest you can get it to me? “Can you give me an hour?” It’s probably a good thing that conversation took place over the phone because I’m afraid instead of kicking the concrete wall that I was kicking I would have been kicking a person. Also, I may have been shooting daggers out my eyes and breathing fire.
I think I need a little stress therapy today. So everybody sing with me…
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
They should pay you for the rest of the semester up front. Last minute cancellations should get a $50/day charge just like the doctor's office. You're a professional, and they should be, too.
ReplyDeleteTeach them some responsibility by attacking their wallets. Renegotiate your contract and protect yourself from their irresponsible bs.