How just a little appreciation can turn a whole day around. I was having a perfectly wretched morning, everyone seemed to be yelling at me and I just couldn't go fast enough to keep up. I was ready to throw in the towel and look for something else, seriously. I don't get it when people have to act like such jerks so much of the time, just to be mean to someone for its own sake, it's like being back in high school, and that can really get me down. Like, I can't say or do anything right around them without them making some sarcastic remark. Then on the way out, the chef said to me "Good job today, Katie", and I felt better. Like, maybe I can do this again for another day. It doesn't take much to give someone the strength to not give up. It's a delicate balance, how much can we take, and how much do we need in return. It helps out a lot when other people seem to think I'm doing okay. Just to know that I'm appreciated. Hey, I keep showing up, don't I? I might not get through my task sheet in record time, but I stay till the job's complete, I don't give up.
Later...
I got done with my second half of work, which went so much better than the first half! We just had a party of 40 people, we had everything set up and ready to go in record time, so we all got to go home early. Chef John was in good spirits, my urge to slap people silly was considerably lower, it was a good end to the day.
I have an evening shift tomorrow, which are always nice because I get to sleep in! I might have time to get some baking in or put something together to have ready for supper when I get home. One of our night managers just quit, so I wonder what it'll be like with whoever they stick in in his place. I hope everything goes all right. I bet we'll be busy, which will be good, the time will go by faster. I've been doing all right on the line, I feel more comfortable up there than in the back doing prep. John seems to think I'm more suited to it, too. That's always good to get a vote of confidence.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
They're playing my song...
"I'm doomed to fail, the stage gives way, it's an apostrophe to my legacy, but though I'm bruised I'd happily do it all again"
The outlook might be grim for the immediate future, but despite the bad news on the work front (http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122886980439793253.html?mod=dist_smartbrief) I remain hopeful that things are going to straighten out before the Earth goes for it's final curtain call, and that I'll be long dead when that happens.
It's scary to think of entering the restaurant industry when so few people are choosing to patronize such establishments. I don't expect much out of life, although I still stupidly wish it was fair sometimes. I wish that I could guarantee that my class will get well-paying jobs in establishments worthy of our attention and skill, but it's more likely that at some point we'll all have to swallow our pride and work someplace just for money to get by. There's nothing wrong with that, provided it's only a temporary detour on our respective roads to wherever it is we're shooting for. There were times when I had to remind myself of a line from the sci-fi spoof "Galaxy Quest": "I have one job to do here! It's stupid, but I'm going to do it!" That, and the immortal words of Marty Feldman "Could be worse....could be raining" have been my ridiculous little mantras to get me through the worst of it.
My grandparents survived the Great Depression, my parents lived to see the other side of the Cold War, every generation has to go through its trials, like a macabre rite-of-passage. I don't have to like it, but I can accept what I can't change while I work to change what I can.
One thing that I hold as utmost importance (and I wouldn't be surprised if people were sick of it by now) is to remember that we're human beings. In times of great hardship or duress, it's easy to forget that we're civilized people with dignity. When money is tight, the first thing we do is cut out our various "luxuries", little realizing that to go flat-out and live on only the most basic necessities, is to deny ourselves what makes us us. My greatest comfort in my times of financial uncertainty was the secondhand store in Rochester. It was nearby, and even though I hardly ever bought anything, it was fun to do some treasure-hunting after working all day. I miss that. I adapted to fit into my pay bracket. The simple things I came to take such pleasure in was based on what was available. I started to breed my own brand of threadbare snobbery, turning my nose up at consumerism as something for the rich bastarads, "thank God I'm not like that". I became a clearance rack vulture, keeping things on layaway or hidden in the back until I could afford them, then bragging from the rooftops how little I paid for my new finery. I couldn't afford to go to Cinnabon every morning like the people I served, but I could afford flour, eggs, yeast, and sugar to make my own.
I think that's where my love of cooking got its second wind, I lived up to the standard of "I might be broke but I can still eat well." I learned how to make mango chutney, one of my favorite (albeit expensive!) condiments, feeling very fine indeed. My challenge in the kitchen was no different than my forebears: to make the very best of what I had, waste virtually nothing, and enjoy every bite.
The outlook might be grim for the immediate future, but despite the bad news on the work front (http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122886980439793253.html?mod=dist_smartbrief) I remain hopeful that things are going to straighten out before the Earth goes for it's final curtain call, and that I'll be long dead when that happens.
It's scary to think of entering the restaurant industry when so few people are choosing to patronize such establishments. I don't expect much out of life, although I still stupidly wish it was fair sometimes. I wish that I could guarantee that my class will get well-paying jobs in establishments worthy of our attention and skill, but it's more likely that at some point we'll all have to swallow our pride and work someplace just for money to get by. There's nothing wrong with that, provided it's only a temporary detour on our respective roads to wherever it is we're shooting for. There were times when I had to remind myself of a line from the sci-fi spoof "Galaxy Quest": "I have one job to do here! It's stupid, but I'm going to do it!" That, and the immortal words of Marty Feldman "Could be worse....could be raining" have been my ridiculous little mantras to get me through the worst of it.
My grandparents survived the Great Depression, my parents lived to see the other side of the Cold War, every generation has to go through its trials, like a macabre rite-of-passage. I don't have to like it, but I can accept what I can't change while I work to change what I can.
One thing that I hold as utmost importance (and I wouldn't be surprised if people were sick of it by now) is to remember that we're human beings. In times of great hardship or duress, it's easy to forget that we're civilized people with dignity. When money is tight, the first thing we do is cut out our various "luxuries", little realizing that to go flat-out and live on only the most basic necessities, is to deny ourselves what makes us us. My greatest comfort in my times of financial uncertainty was the secondhand store in Rochester. It was nearby, and even though I hardly ever bought anything, it was fun to do some treasure-hunting after working all day. I miss that. I adapted to fit into my pay bracket. The simple things I came to take such pleasure in was based on what was available. I started to breed my own brand of threadbare snobbery, turning my nose up at consumerism as something for the rich bastarads, "thank God I'm not like that". I became a clearance rack vulture, keeping things on layaway or hidden in the back until I could afford them, then bragging from the rooftops how little I paid for my new finery. I couldn't afford to go to Cinnabon every morning like the people I served, but I could afford flour, eggs, yeast, and sugar to make my own.
I think that's where my love of cooking got its second wind, I lived up to the standard of "I might be broke but I can still eat well." I learned how to make mango chutney, one of my favorite (albeit expensive!) condiments, feeling very fine indeed. My challenge in the kitchen was no different than my forebears: to make the very best of what I had, waste virtually nothing, and enjoy every bite.
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