1 year

03/27/20

Although I somehow managed to skate by higher than Willie Nelson at a Snoop Dogg Concert when I met with Chef a few weeks after I started there, since then I hadn’t shown up even buzzed. I felt like somebody was watching me at all times. My birthday came around that November and it just so happened to be the day after Thanksgiving. None of us had a day off that week and we were prepping our asses off when my friend Jorge handed me a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. Knowing how much it costs, I tried to hand it back to him but he insisted I take it. So naturally what do I do? I take a big gulp of it and shove it in my bag in the break room.

It was about an hour into the shift and the morning crew was still prepping their asses off to prepare for the week ahead. I got an order here and there but nothing I couldn’t handle. I got done plating my Wagyu Ribeye and twiddled my thumbs for a few minutes before ripping off my apron and jogging to the back go take another gulp. It was so smooth going down yet it burned so much. Before this moment I had for the most part stuck to the cheap shit. Rarely did I ever get anything top shelf and if I did, somebody else was getting the tab. I went back to the line and as soon as I got there I heard the oh so familiar sound of a ticket printing. I’m almost positive I’ve heard that exact sound in my dreams before. The ticket printed for what felt like a decade and when it was done, it had 14 entrees. As I turned around to start cooking my portion of these dishes I heard Chef yell at the top of his lungs “Tell her to come here!” I could tell by the tone of his voice somebody had fucked up. I proceeded to cook the dish just like the ticket had printed and shortly thereafter we heard him talking to one of the veteran servers. They were exchanging their frustrations back and forth when I heard her belt out “Why don’t you worry about your cooks being drunk on the job and quit worrying about me?” I could feel a knot the size of a basketball begin form in my stomach and I was pretty buzzed from the gulps of scotch I had taken just minutes before.

I was able to flawlessly finish my order on time without error but I knew as soon as the food left the window, I was getting my ass chewed out. I waited for what felt like a year but in reality, it was just 2 minutes that had passed by. I immediately knew he was talking to me and if I even so much as made a peep he’d probably throw something at me. I stared at the floor all the way to his office making sure I kept a steady pace because I knew he was just a couple feet behind me. As I enter his office he said “Get your bag”. I’ll never forget the feeling at that moment. As I returned to his office with my bag he asked that I shut the door behind me. As soon as I heard the door click the screaming began… to be continued…