Sunday, September 18, 2011

Sarah Connor?

I do not talk at all about my job on my blog for a number of reasons, primarily because I love my job and do not want to put anything disparaging out there that could jeopardize my position or show my place of employment in a negative light that could possible impact whether people choose to patronize there.  Plus,  my employer has a pretty strict social media policy in their handbook, which I actually read and take seriously.  It's unfortunate because there is a slew of hilarious things that happen at work that I want to share, but now is not the right time.  Note: Anything I post on here is in no way, shape or form a reflection on my employer, who shall remain anonymous, and anything I put on here is entirely my views.

However, sometimes there are things too good to keep to oneself.   For those that are unaware, I am an aspiring pastry chef, and I work in a restaurant.  Kitchens are interesting beasts to be a part of, for anyone who has never had BOH(Back of the House) experience.  They are fast-paced and high stressed.  Those who are sensitive and/or lacking a very thick skin need not apply.  You will get corrected frequently, you will get made fun of often, you will have days where you just feel like a complete blundering idiotic piece of shit who should not even be allowed to assemble a Lunchable cracker sandwich, let alone touch the food of your fine establishment. Most of your time is shaded by a healthy suspicion  of what those around you are doing, waiting for some smartass comments to come your way so you can retort with an equally sharp and witty jab back.  Sometimes you instigate the shit talking just to put yourself a little higher on the pecking order, and other days are just spent trying to deflect any attentions.

Then there are days where you have to go in with your loins girded because you know you are wearing a giant target.

Exhibit A:
No, I am not channeling my inner GaGa.  And no, I am not test driving my next Halloween costume.  I had some ocular issues and I have to keep my right eye dilated for the next five days.  And a dilated eye means blurriness and extreme sensitivity to light.  I can ditch these sexy specs when I am in my poorly lit domain, but the kitchen is entirely too bright.  Meaning I had to spend a Saturday service wearing the equivalent of a giant sign that says, "Make fun of me, please!" I tried to wear a pair of normal sunglasses, but none of them fit over my regular corrective lenses.

If you work in a kitchen, and you have to spend your shift wearing these bad mamajamas over your normal glasses, the following  things will be said and/or done to you:

-Servers will randomly bust out singing, "I wear my sunglasses at night."  Constantly.
-You will be called The Terminator no less than 25 times.
-One of your chef's will start singing Stevie Wonder songs to you...Immediately after he said that he is trying his hardest not to make fun of you.
-Customers will ask you how you are able to to safely prepare food when being blind.
-Your Executive Chef will do a hilarious impersonation of Ray Charles ala the Diet Pepsi "You've Got the Right One Baby" ad campaign from the early 90s.
-A server will ask you to say, "I'll be back" every time you pass through the server station.
-A chef will sarcastically offer his arm to you to escort you through the dining room.
-Servers will continue to sing "I wear my sunglasses at night."
-Customers will blatantly stare at you. Shamelessly stare.
-Food runners will constantly wave their hands in your face.
-Coworkers will laugh at you when you say you are going to "Blind bake" some dough.  
-Every time you will walk past the line you will  hear someone start singing, "Georgia..."
-You will start responding to inquiries simply by saying, "Sarah Connor?" in your best Governator voice.
-People will ask you if they are 3-D  and/or virtual reality glasses. Because life is not already in 3-D and all...
 -Your inquiries and comments will be answered with, "I'm sorry, but I just cannot take you seriously."

Fortunately, one of my favorite things to laugh at is myself, so it actually made for a fun night at work.  At one point, I declared it "Open Season on Carl." Note: one of my chef's calls me Carl after getting wind of how my name is spelled. Thanks Mom & Dad.

Also, the attention was not all negative.  The owner of my restaurant asked me, "What's up with the Jackie O look?"  Jackie O? Wow, quite the upgrade from The Terminator.  No wonder I enjoy working for him so much. 

Despite the fact that I was the target of a lot of good-natured ribbing all day, there were some positives to wearing those specs.  On the red line ride home, three individuals offered me their seats when there were none available.

Looks like I will be saving these things to pop on during the evening rush ride home.

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