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A Saskatchewan take on cooking at its best! |
| Being a youngster growing up in the shadow of an arrogant but incredibly capable chef, I learned a back breaking work ethic along with a foundation for my skill set to grow. As I grew I developed a type of humor that comes along with kitchen work. My goal here is to humorously share accounts of my self and fellow cooks in moments of true comedy. Enjoy! |
| Waskesiu, I tell you guys, anything can happen in Waskesiu. I love that place so much even though I don’t really have much to show for my five seasons there. Except maybe all the friendships, knowledge in regards to work and the hilarious stories. My first year, I was a young and eager but completely green when it came to cooking. I didn’t really know a whole lot except how to be a hard working grunt. I think because of my brother I got a dish/prep job at one of the bars and was pumped. I was learning how to drink a lot and loved a harsh dooby once in a wile so naturally Waskesiu was a fit. I began work immediately upon my arrival and the chefs as well as a few of the cooks were super cool dudes. I still talk to a couple of them when I can and respect them quite a bit for the foundation they gave me that summer. Anyways, the two main cooks and I got along and being the only guys I knew we started hanging out together regularly. We watched South Park quite a bit and if we weren’t working we were completely baked. One day was so unbelievable; it was so funny and scary at the same time. I could have easily made the same mistake the other guy did. There were jalapeño poppers on the menu but it was before the generic popper product was messily distributed and we had to core and stuff them our selves. First time for me and nobody thought to tell me or the other guy to put on rubber gloves as we manually scraped the insides out of the fresh jalapeños… About half way through I noticed that my forehead was warm and then my lip and eventually my hands. After I noticed that the warmth evolved quickly into a full out burning. I was completely confused and very uncomfortable as I trudged on trying to get the job finished. I could tell the other guy was experiencing the same type of feelings as was I only a few minutes before we felt it he had went and relieved himself in the bathroom. Shitty! When chef came in he had a good laugh and allowed the other guy to go home cause his, you know, was red and burning from the oils in the peppers. I was still uncomfortable but was still able to laugh at the poor cook as he left the kitchen to go sit in a cold bathtub and wait for time to fix his swollen problem. That was an awesome moment that had me chuckling and everybody teasing for the rest of the summer. I also learned a valuable lesson that day, when dealing with spicy product, try very heard to not touch your face or any other body part for that matter, at least until you can thoroughly clean your self up. Trust me on this one. Garo, I’ll give you a solid 10 points for a tough go. |
| Ahh! Waskesiu… In my life so far I think some of my wildest, funniest and most memorable days were spent out there, drinking, fucking and cooking in ways bordering on religious. I still talk to most of the people I met out there and for the most part I have very few regrets regardless of the life style I had. I got it all out of my system early and think it helped me to become who I am both personally and professionally. Also for the better part of five seasons I was haply working for, in my own opinion, one of the best chefs in this province. He taught me quite a bit about the short order world and it was his demand for perfection that helped me obtain the strict Mise en Place style I live by now. When I think back to those days everything seems blurry and I struggle to remember exact details of the most memorable moments of comic relief I experienced, I assure you though, my readers, that it will come back the more I think about it and there were more than a bunch of times I was crippled by laughter. One that I remember and tell a lot may not be so funny to some but I laughed out loud for a long, long time after this one. I think it was my third or forth season and the chef had hired a lot of new cooks that year. One in particular was a really nice and funny gut that loved getting smashed on a daily basis so he fit in well. Although he was liked by quite a few people I got to say he wasn’t the smartest guy around. The chef had a wrath to be reckoned with and I was fortunate enough to never really experience it directly but I did how ever witness it first hand many, many times. It usually surfaced in the lack of common sense involved with basic jobs, like if someone did something really stupid, like they didn’t think about it he would definitely let you know in his own professional way. So this guy that became known to us as bubbles, for his resemblance to one of the trailer park boys, was working down the hill and I was working up the hill. We were both on night shifts but he was a cook and I was prep. I remember that was the year I learned all about the emulsification process and was really intrigued by it but I became completely annoyed by the dam Caesar salad dressing, it took so freaking long to make and I had to stand there, hunched over the mixer, slowly trickling the oil into the mixing vinegar and egg. I hated it thoroughly, believe me. Well one day I had just finished the dressing and was cleaning up when chef came storming through the back door muttering to him self and with out saying a word, took my fresh pail of dressing and left me standing there, just like that. I needed that dressing! Not knowing what was going on and creeping closer to the rush I began scrambling to begin a new batch and thinking what the fuck the whole time. Anyways, after all was said and done, the end of my shift came around so I decided to go down the hill and inquire about why I had to make two dressings that night. When I got down chef was having a smoke out back and clearly he was passed the moment and having a friendly way about him I asked what had happened. He said that bubbles had made some Caesar dressing using the ancient recipe, when he couldn’t find the red wine vinegar he decided to use plane red wine. Chef didn’t notice until he was calling on line in the beginnings of the rush when bubbles put up a couple of purple Caesar salads. Chef clearly didn’t like the purple Caesar salads so he raced up the hill and stole mine. Very classy move bubbles, not bad at all. Purple Caesar salad! Oh man! You wouldn’t believe what we put that guy through that night when we were all getting pissed up at the bar. I can only hope after the razing we gave him and what I can only imagine chef gave him he will hopefully never make that mistake again. Alright bubbles, I’ll give you 6.5 points for originality. |
| This one is one of my dad’s stories and I can imagine the whole situation as clear as if I was there in person. Lets see if I can do him any justice in the telling of it wile remaining bias attempting to not upset the chef involved. I would like to steer clear of his wrath for I have seen and herd of it to meant times. This crew is often referred to in my writings as the heroes of my youth and are largely responsible for my own desire, dedication, ethic and skill foundation within the food world, when I talk about them I always seem to need to describe the situation and emotional mind frame I am experiencing as I remember them or in this situation attempting to relay a story from there day. I am listening to Ween’s live in Chicago album and bribing my boys with cookies to leave me alone as I finish this one up. I am also taking frequent breaks to stomach the laughter boiling up from my core as I imagine the rage in the following situation and the unity the crew of perpetrators expressed in the face of such a destructive rage. I also don’t want to offend the chef involved so if you do find your self here chef I am only a young pup dreaming of the days when you guys were the best and you must see the humor involved now… right? Ok, here we go… My dad in the early 90’s was the Executive Sous Chef of a big hotel here in the city, the cooks and management having a bond that I like to think of as still functioning years later with long periods of no contact. Well one of the Chef’s usual peeves was the non uniformity of some of the menu items. As I’ve said before Chef as well as my dad the Sous chef like to have a few now and again, you know, from time to time right? So Chef was disciplining the team of the non uniformity of the cutlets in this situation and proceeded to have “a few” and decided to order his supper and thinking of checking on the setting in of his earlier disciplining he ordered the veal cutlets wile having a few… The boys surely knew what he was talking about but decided to take a stand and play a little trick on chef. I know not who was responsible for initiating and following through but I do have my own suspicions. They went to the dish pit and retrieved a dirty old filthy dish rag and began cutting it into a perfectly uniform shape resembling the vision of Chef’s cutlets. They gave it a few coats of breading and fried it to a golden brown. The likeness was undetectable says a few of the available line workers that wish to remain nameless even now over 15 years later. They plated it up with potatoes, vegetables and gravy then sent it out to their chef who was doing alright perusing his “few.” A couple gained some confidence and became brave warriors as they crept to the lobby to gain an unseen view of the hungry chef as he begins to really give’er on this cutlet. A few minutes pass by as his arms tire working his steak knife over the tasty rag. Not sure if he got any but I think he realized what transpired looking at the steak knife with a portion of string hanging from it. Recollections from the minutes following are vastly different from each other but follow the basic standing out come. I am told that there was absolutely no humor involved just pure unadulterated rage from the very sole of the enraged chef. Some say they were fired on the spot and some say there were punches thrown. I think everyone present received five thousand lashes from chef’s tong at least and I can see him rampaging through the place half pissed and bound and determined to find that dead little fucking bastard as I imagine he was thinking. This is like an urban legend or a fairy tale for me, way to extreme and desperately unbelievable for my mind to comprehend. Like ten thousand notches above the wildest thing I have ever attempted or even thought about attempting, especially knowing the chef that was attacked that fateful day in the dining room. Wow is all I can manage to muster up out of this laughter. Wow! What a brave bunch of lads I tell you, brave bunch of lads. |
When I was in Lloyd working for my dad he did something to me that I never forgot, I was really pissed at the time the fucking jerk. Here in Saskatchewan we have a few different programs to help the mentally challenged obtain employment and other variations of standing within society. As well I’m sure other provinces do also, well Randy has always been a supporter of these organizations and try’s to recruit at least one or two for dishwashing or busing tables or something when he has the opportunity. In Alberta the main organization is called the B-Fishers. Somewhere within my first couple of weeks Randy commits to a few young and good looking servers that I am a B-Fisher so they have to be nice to me and help. So I think it was a good week or so before I realized that some of the servers were talking to me weird and being really strange when I was around. I think the first rush that I controlled told them they had been had and after we talk about it my dad had a really good laugh at my situation and I was from that moment on thinking of what to do to get him back. It took me a long, long time to get him with the same caliber of attack as he had done but when I did it was a sweet savor that I enjoyed thoroughly. He had taken a gig as the chef of a mining camp up north and was making some good cash working one week in and one week out. He offered me a full time position but I had a good job and just needed a quick big check to help out a little bit now that our Christmas was over and we were broke. I committed to a ten day shift working the week he was away and then three days with him. I was able to chat with him for about 10 minutes before he caught the plane out. As I went in I was a new employee so had to fill out a bunch of stuff and as I was talking to one of the secretaries she asked me how I got the job. It came to me almost instantly and the idea was flawless. I knew that within the week he was away the whole place would know. After she asked me I told her that I got the job because my wife and I were friends with Randy’s boyfriend back home and she looked at me and said with shock. “Randy’s…Gay?” “Yeah.” I said “his partner’s really nice guy.” That was it man, I bet within three days everybody thought the chef on the other shift was happily gay. In a mining camp I imagine it would probably be a big deal to have a gay chef! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Commitment – full on, execution – flawless, belief level – 100%... I got him… finally I got him! The day before I left he came and found me to give me shit and he was a little upset for real but I told him why I did it and it then was apparent that I had won the few year old battle. I was now the teacher and he the old feeble one. I was the C.D. and he the cassette tape. I was the victor; I had come to the time all relationships do when the student surpasses the teacher and follows the circle of life by ousting him and beginning to train my own portages. Revenge is best served when it is unable to be reacted upon. |
| So I was working in Lloydminster for my dad. The restaurant was a small franchise name but the owner was a real stickler for quality and fresh ingredients so most of the menu was all his own recipes. It was well run with a lot of tried and true practices that were efficient and easily followed. When I arrived in Lloyd I started working right away and didn’t mind the job. In that kitchen there were a few people that had been there for a long time and I can only imagine that they are still there. One guy in particular who I’ll call Donnie was one of the biggest dorks I have ever met but showed a lot of heart and desire to learn so we got along quite well. He was a nice guy as well but had absolutely no clue how to mise en place a line. When a bill came in with let’s say one appetizer and fore dinners on it the call would go out and everyone would scatter all running to the back fridge to get what they needed. The cold table and stand up freezer on the line remained basically empty. I couldn’t believe this was how they lived, so I found myself attempting to show these guys how to work and set up there stations. One service in particular I called out a bill and Donnie was missing something so he left his dank little corner to get what ever it was and I didn’t let him go easily but he left regardless. We kept on cooking with me filling his space until he returned; witch was strangely taking longer than needed. Being busy I didn’t really notice but it was really taking a long time and he was beginning to fill up with things to do. I decided to go look for him after probably ten minutes or so. I quickly left the line and looked in the back hall way where most of the prep took place and he wasn’t there. I checked the freezer and nothing. Only one place left, as I opened the cooler I saw Donnie hunched over on his knees with his head and more apparently his face resting in the coleslaw. “What the fuck, DONNIE!” as I shook him awake I noticed a ten pound turkey on the floor beside him. As he began to wake up I asked, “You alright man? What happened?” as he confusingly looked around and began to remember where he was and the situation he was in he looked at me and said I was tugging at this what ever it was here and that was it… I looked up to see a half dozen frozen turkeys on the top shelf and knew exactly what had transpired. He was tugging at what he needed and in wiggling the shelf a frozen turkey had came down on the back of his head leaving him looking deeply into the coleslaw. “Oh fuck.” He said rubbing the back of his head with a creamy cheek covered with bits of cabbage and carrot. “I don’t think I’ll put turkeys on the top shelf again man!” he went on. “Are you ok man?” I asked and he assured he was so we went back to the line to dig out of the back up we had acquired from our moment in the fridge. So instead of forgetting all about Donnie in the years that passed after my time in Lloyd I get a little chuckle every once in a wile thinking about that moment I learned of the lethal quality’s of a frozen ten pound turkey and comically think if what a way to go, drowning in coleslaw. I sure hope he learned something that day. Good luck out there Donnie, keep on keeping on buddy. Ten points for hanging in there. |
| I was working at a bar on 8th st. here in Saskatoon. I had always wanted to be involved in a place from the initial renovation stage and this was one of my first. We started around two weeks before opening with large group orientations and we in the kitchen began creating some of the dishes to help the staff understand what they were. It wasn’t long until the drinkers assimilated into a group and began getting to know each other in the alcoholic relationships that religious drinking coworkers often do. It was a great time, the first six months were busy as hell and we drank copious amounts of alcohol every night closing the bar down. Out of most of the people their there were only a few that I still talk to now but there were a few that I will always remember and one in particular that will forever remember me. He was a great guy and he fed me beer like it was my last day on earth and he was unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had made a beef stalk the night before and cooled it in a large pail for the night. The next day there was a two inch thick fat cap over the gelatinized beef broth and it was a tinted green off white color from the herb and vegetable mix I used as flavor. Now I always herd of this and often contemplated it but this was the first time that I committed to the idea. I removed the circular two inch thick fat and cleaned it up and then I cut a thin triangle out of it and placed it on a large 12 inch circular dinner plate. It looked really convincing. After that I cut up a few pieces of fruit and dressed it up with some fruit coolie, the finishing touch was some freshly whipped cream and a sprinkle of cocoa. It really looked delicious, just like a rich and creamy cheese cake. After looking at it me and one of my cooks whom I have grown to call Garbie (he eats anything) laugh and contemplate who to give it to. We decide that the girls, our night servers are worthy of such an attack so I, as strait faced as possible, approach the main bar and let everyone know that there was a leftover cheese cake if anyone wants it and retreat to the kitchen chuckling to myself the whole time. It was the beginning of our dinner rush so I didn’t go out to check on my dessert for an hour or so. When I did my good friend Billy was working behind the bar and all the servers were buzzing around with a million things to do so the cake sat there untouched. Disappointed I asked for an ice water from Billy the bartender and as I begin to go back to the kitchen he asks me ”What’s with that cake there?” as I turn I look to the cake and then to Billy, I figure what the hell. “It was left over so I brought it for anyone who wants it.” I then turn and scurry back to my line witch is stalked with potential weapons for my self defense. I think it was ten minutes before he came storming in to the kitchen completely overcome by rage and me and Garbi stood staring at him with big smiles on our faces. He sent the whole plate smashing into the garbage, told me to go fuck my self and retreated out of the kitchen. I laughed as all the servers said “I almost had a bight of that” and “it looked so good.” Later after service I went out to see Billy and he was waiting with a smile on his face, obviously over the initial anger stage and bent on revenge. “You want a drink?” He asks. “Yeah right, you think I was born yesterday? How was that for you?” I ask laughing. Billy then in a low and serious voice replies “I’ll get you you know, it might not be for years, it might be tomorrow but I’ll get you.” He never did but he always manages to find someone to remind me he remembers. I’ll be working somewhere completely ignorant and a rep or delivery person will walk by and ask me “are you James,” I’ll say yes and they’ll tell me “Billy says he’s going to get you,” what I’ll say, “I don’t know some guy named Billy asked me to send you a message, he said he’s going to get you but that’s all I can say.” Forever remembered by an old friend and colleague, I wonder what he’ll do. |
| I was quite recently working at a hotel here in Saskatoon. It was a good job but for personal reasons I had to leave, wile I was working there I was enjoying the kitchen management very much. The chef and sous chef were talented and extremely funny to work with. Their relationship kind of reminded me of an old married couple always arguing over the smallest issues but content enough to plug away in their own ways doing the best they could spiting out little sly comments at each other when ever possible. Every step of the way their trying to provoke a response from each other by their comments and ready to do battle in a moments notice. One of the funniest moments I witnessed in their presents had me chuckling for a week and even now, six months later I still think of them and laugh out loud, usually in instances that offer me no opportunity to be laughing but a sudden burst of laughter springs up uncontrollably. There was an early afternoon function for about 80 people I believe and one of the requests was for a classic maple syrup over snow. It was Chef’s function so he had Sous Chef helping set everything up in the function room up stairs. As everything starts coming together and the set up is ready he begins cooking his sugar on a portable burner. Sous Chef run’s down for the last finishing elements of their setup as Chefs sugar begins to simmer and come to the temperature needed. Sous Chef enters the room moments before the group and asks Chef if he needs anything else, they then chat for the last few moments of wait. The simmering sugar begins to develop a few small crystals around the edge of the pot and knowing what will happen if the crystal makes it into the main bulk of bubbling maple Chef frantically try’s to stop it from sliding down. Sous Chef watches him as the crystal slides past its barriers and sinks in to the sugar. Right at that moment the doors open and the group begins to shuffle in. The crystal rapidly multiplies solidifying the entire pot of syrup in fractions of a second and panic officially sets in. The thoughts in Chef’s head I imagine are frantic and sporadic at best but that comes to everybody in a situation such as this. As he assesses the situation he commits to a plan and turns to ask Sous Chef to run for a new pot and more maple sugar. As he turns he is surprised to see nobody there, he’s all alone up there and his line is forming. Being as professional as possible he cannot leave the line until everyone has gone through… I’m not sure what happened and how he got through it but he did and everything was awesome according to the guests, he pulled it off. Meanwhile in the kitchen I just arrived and Sous Chef tells me all about what had transpired before he left Chef in the function room and we share a little laugh about the poor guy. Moments later Chef appears in the kitchen and Sous chef immediately shouts “How was that for ya? Ha ha!” with a big shit eating grin on his face and that’s the moment I keep thinking of, that disgusted and pissed off look on Chefs face for being abandoned in the moment of dire striates by his right hand man. Too funny! Those two are great men and hope I will be fortunate enough to work in their presences sometime in the future. |
| So I was working at a little restaurant and pub by the U-of-S here in Saskatoon. Every place has that guy, you know that guy… the one you just want to smack every time he opens his mouth and everything about him just irritates the hell out of you. Well this guy was probably one of the most annoying people I have ever met in my entire life even up until now. His whole presence was just so unbelievable I was absolutely shocked that he hadn’t been violently murdered previously. He lacked everything that makes a person a person let alone a cook a good cook. No composure, no decency, no aspect of importance or acceptable realism. He was a total douche and he wasn’t the brightest guy around either, this is one moment when his favor evaporated from my opinions and credibility, forever. This pub sold a ridiculous amount of wings and nachos every day consistently. The sheer bulk of the prep that was maintained casually was very impressive for me being newly exposed to such a need. One day I was frying wings in one of the two deep fryers and I had over 100 pounds to bread or dredge and fry, followed by cooling, portioning and finally freezing. When constantly stressing your oil in a deep fryer with something along the lines of a breaded product like the wings the oil slowly builds up a foam like substance on the top of the oil and if not careful this foam will drip over the sides and make a mess. So as I was discussing with the other cooks about the foam over my deep fryer one of them (that guy) stated that he had just the thing that would solve my problem. As he left the line I continued to pursue my task and cook the trickling orders as well, in between loads of mucky wing. I was bent over scooping from the bottom of the chicken tub as “that guy” came trucking by and dumps a full service pitcher of ice into my smoking, foaming, stressed out 375° oil… Seriously! I’m not completely proud of the words I used to describe his action in the heat of the moment but I freaked out. I was absolutely dumbfounded that a person never mind a cook could actually conceive this plan and execute it believing in its soundness. He stood there and said “watch, it will calm right down… watch! My retort was along the lines of “You fucking idiot, did you really just do that? Are you completely fucking retarded? I am not cleaning that up you dumb ass.” As I walked off line still yelling the fryer began to erupt and over flowed so much that it tainted the fryer next to it and over flowed that one as well. I was so mad at this guy and it took a long time to be able to laugh about it but now every time I do think about him I can’t help to laugh at his misfortune and at how ridiculously stupid this guy really was. What a fucking jerk. |
| The set up is a small cooking demo in one of the malls here in Saskatoon. This is an annual event and it is usually executed by a member of the local CCFCC. The chef we'll call Uncle Chef and he is one of the most intense but funny chefs I have ever met. He is very opinionated and goes on rants every time I’m around him, although I’m not sure of his seriousness throughout these attacks of the tongue but I always find them humorous regardless of the topic. I really get a kick out of Uncle Chef and he never ceases to amaze me no matter the situation. So I get to the mall a few hours before we are to begin our demo as one of the promoting stores is finishing our equipment set up. As I show up to the site I see uncle chef and his partner in crime unloading a flat deck cart of all the groceries. As I approach, the two welcome me and proceed into the drunken debauchery tales of the previous night. Always intrigued I listen contently and begin to help setting up. The day is planed to be a short two hour demo promoting a realization of no recipe style meal designing. Between the three of us we are going to teach students as well as customers how to freestyle in the kitchen. The 4-5 students from the local trade school are set to arrive within the hour and our demo or showcase will begin shortly after that. The whole time we are getting the Mise en Place I was totally enthralled by the stories Uncle Chef and his partner in crime were telling me. Their night previous was a complete commitment to the practices of the religion of drunken debauchery. True pioneers of the belief that drugs, sex and food is the only life style worth living. Legends among men these two have proven to be time and time again. So the demo was proving to be a success having no less than 40-50 onlookers at all times with an endless supply of passers by who we all know will wait anywhere up to an hour if the possibility of free food is apparent. The students were completely dumbfounded now that the dill and cream cheese were used up and there creative enthusiasm has been cut off due to a lack of anything to cook with, right? Uncle Chef is committed to a rant at the crowed, something about butter being healthy as long as you don’t consume a pound a day. So the Partner in crime and I decide to go take a break for a quick smoke. As we come back in and approach the stage we can here uncle chef’s voice over the speakers but only the students are cooking. As we near the production the crowed looks on and we here Uncle Chef’s voice a little more clearly. “Oh yeah, we got fuck’en trashed man. The funniest thing, there was this dirty little chick hanging around being a tool and we were just laughing at her, fuck this broad was just fucking dumb, you know, just fucking dumb. I mean she just wouldn’t take a hint man, we were just trashing her and it was so fucking funny.” Uncle Chef’s partner in crime approaches behind the stage to see Uncle Chef deep in conversation with a friend passing by. “Uncle, your mikes still on!” The crowd who quite possibly was interested in the story being told by the legendary Chef only herd a surprised “Oh Shit!” to be cut off quite abruptly followed by an elongated silence watching a bunch of students pout about not being able to use cream cheese or dill any more. Amazing! Absolutely, unbelievably fucking amazing! A true pioneer in the prasti… wait, the Art of drunken debauchery, because with a situation breaking into uncharted territory and using the caliber he did in that moment of true excellence it from that moment on can only be considered an art form for sure. Uncle Chef you are a hero among men and I vow to you, here and now if I may, if the opportunity arouse, I would follow you to the death without a moment of hesitation. I would be happy to take a bullet for you in the heat of battle; I would consider it an honor to protect the legacy witch is Uncle Chef. |
| So this one is about my dad, he doesn’t mind if I use his name or inform people of whom he is and how he ticks so that’s that. He is quite a man and has helped and taught me as well as a lot of other people and cooks the behind the scenes jam of kitchen work. The stuff they don’t teach you in school that are a fundamental part of the job but never talked about. An example is the whole process of kitchen manipulation, you know, getting the job done wile getting the job done. He is a true pioneer of this teaching and you can deny it all you want but it’s just as important as the basics of prep or even a well bodied stalk. Being able to control your staff and efficiently accomplish everything without having to do it your self is in the top few issues of a professionally run kitchen brigade. He is also a funny as hell ass hole but that’s beside the point. Here we go… Randy (my dad) is running a small buffet house in Prince Albert. Freshly in the position he has cleaned out the slackers afraid of change and structure so is now hiring. A man walks in with an arrogant stature; this guy begins to talk the talk with one of the greatest judges of kitchen character to work in the province. Like I said he can talk the talk and wins Randy over in the first few minutes. The agreement they come to is a ruff base of around 14-15 dollars an hour. The first statement to come out of Randy’s mouth regarding wage is “I’ll pay you what you’re worth witch, if you’re as good as you sound will be around 14-15 dollars.” That said the starting day will be after the weekend. The guy eventually starts and over the next few weeks convinces Randy that regardless of his persona this guy absolutely cannot cut the mustard. Half assed work, irregular punctuality, lack of knowledge, no eyes for detail, sloppy presentation and a serious lack of desire and passion placed this guy under the guillotine within the first few days. Randy sometimes gets a soft spot for personality and this guy had that so Randy doesn’t want to ax him publically or professionally. Upon reviewing he decides to pay the guy what he is worth and commits the knowledge to payroll. After the two weeks was up there is now a paycheck for him and like nothing the guy opens it up to what I would probably consider to be a serious letdown. The guy, upset, approaches Randy and confronts him about the small compensation for his incredible double week of work. The confrontation went something like this. “Randy. I thought we said I was making $15 an hour. This says I’m only getting minimum wage.” Randy no doubt smirks in line of the confrontation and full heartedly proceeds with the decided plan. “Well, I didn’t say $15 I told you I would pay you what you were worth. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to go lower than minimum wage so you lucked out there bud.” In full grin now He waits for this to sink in the mind of the challenger. “Fuck you man.” Not being able to hold a strait face now Randy watches as the cook slowly cracks with anger and retreats to never be seen again. Man my dad’s an asshole but at least he does it for a laugh, right. |
| The set up of this unbelievable tale is a breakfast house on Circle Drive again, here in Saskatoon. I worked with a guy for about two years and throughout the two years I probably made him tell me this story at least 50 times. The way he told it had me in tears every time; I’ll try to do him justice for the incredibly brutal circumstances he went through. I really can’t imagine this happening to anybody. We’ll call him Stan. After over a year of faithful service to the breakfast franchise Stan proceeded to go to work just like he had many, many times before. Working on the buffet line grunting away every mourning on the endless task of tedious pork dominated meal preparations would have had me finished so very long before. But Stan didn’t mind it, as he showed up to work and suited up his perception was normal and nothing seemed to be amidst. Out of nowhere, in the middle of the breakfast service, with a full restaurant of food consuming cattle his attention is demanded by two large men in blue. In the middle of the dining room with lots of customers and staff looking on the men in blue begin to serve the faithful cook his writes and proceed to handcuff and arrest him for theft in front of everyone. Obviously distraught and completely shocked Stan begins pleading his innocents to the officers as well as the manager and all the onlookers. I can imagine the entire place in dead silence as this takes place, everyone staring in shock and disbelief. Unimaginable! The cops take him away and the business I assume goes right back to normal now that the thief had been removed. In the station Stan begins to attempt redemption, eventually the accusing manager as well as the constable on duty and Stan figure out what exactly had happened and the charges were dropped. As the distraught Stan begins the releasing process the manager approaches him and apologizes to him explaining that its no big deal and it was an honest mistake (yeah right!). The manager offers Stan a ride and naturally he accepted the offering. About ten minutes into the ride Stan notices that they are nowhere near his house and he wonders where he is being taken. As they move closer and closer Stan thinks. No, no way, were not going… what. No way… Really? Yup, he’s taking him back to work. He asks the manager, “where are we going?” as the manager replies. “Well you still have two hours of your shift so your going back to work.” When they returned to the franchise Stan went back to work! The true definition of a disgruntled employee, this is how mass murders are created and get this as it turns out it was an issue of misplaced inventory. NOTHING WAS EVEN STOLEN!! Stan goes down in the history books with a big shinny star that says trooper on it. He told me that he went about two more weeks before eventually quitting and never, ever going back. Unbelievable, there is no way I could ever make this stuff up. Only in the kitchen is something like this even possible. Good work Stan you will forever be remembered. |
| This one comes from a friend of a friend of mines cousin's friend. She was telling me this after I told her about the chef who kicks the bucket and I just couldn't control my self. It involves the same chef who I discussed in my previous entry but I don't think he was a chef at the time. It takes place quite a wile ago and is also in the downtown core of Saskatoon Saskatchewan. So, three cooks are working through the afternoon shift in the classy little restaurant down town. As they work and accomplish different tasks, from the kitchen they here the phone ringing. The man whom I come to refer to as chef JS goes to answer the phone witch is located beside the bar across the dining room from the service kitchen doors. After about 5 to 10 minutes the two cooks begin to wonder where the other one is and decide to take a break and go see where he has gone to. When they move through the service doors they immediately see a figure sprawled out on the floor with a phone lying next to him. As they approach the motionless cook... "Hello! Hello? Hellooooooo!" One of the two answers the phone and the other begins to revive the napping cook. Upon reviving the man, he informs them that as he answered the phone and was beginning to take a message and dropped his pen. Bending over to retrieve the lost utensil, accidentally impacting his forehead on the corner of the bar he must have knocked himself unconscious. You can’t make this stuff up man! I can’t even imagine this happening to anyone. Every time I think of it I can't stop from having a good laugh unfortunately at the expense of a friend. In his defense I’m sure he had a late night the night before and being a little under the weather his coordination was a little slow, resulting in a momentary absence of his surroundings. Just great things happen all the time, I love my job! |
| Ok, the set up is a small restaurant in the down town core of Saskatoon Saskatchewan. The Chef we’ll call Chef JS. The time would be around 2001 or 2002, right in the climax of my addictions experience. My brother and I are both helping out a friend as he was understaffed and need some well rounded cooks. As we arrived at work I was with out sleep for around two days so naturally I was feeling a little goofy and was not quite there in reference to my mental abilities. It’s the late afternoon and the dining room is booked full, seating around 50 covers, service will begin within the hour. As we wait for the guests to arrive my brother and I are beet and decide to catch a quick nap by the back prep table. Using 3 buckets each we stretch out sitting on one and using the other two for our feet and head (the classic kitchen cot). Chef JS wakes us up as the first table arrives and I move to the salad table as my brother moves to the hot, plate up area. Service begins and all is well, maybe half ways through one of the servers begins to crack. Chef is beginning to be irritated by the actions of this girl and moves back to the prepping area about 15 feet behind the line to take a little venting moment. When he returns the waitress is standing there waiting for him and going through his bills he notices her just standing their still. Shortly after that he notices the 3 plates of entrees sitting between her and him. “What?” he says in a grumpy tone as the server begins to inform him. “This is table 5, I need two more steaks.” As chef rechecks his bills he sees table 5 at the head of the rest and table 5 is 5 covers. “Where’s the other two from 5, they were right here!” As his face slowly takes on a red color she looks down and tells him the news. “I took them to 14, sorry.” “14 just got here, did I say they were 14! What the fuck, god dam it, how the fuck am I going to cook two fucking steaks in 30 seconds! Devin, drop two steaks. Jesus, fucking, Christ!” he shouts. As he storms off to the back again I’m already having trouble keeping a strait face and my brother and I look at each other with smirks and just keep to our selves. For those of you who don’t know this, a pissed off chef is one of the most dangerous creators to ever roam the lands. If you ever encounter one, absolutely under no circumstances should you ever begin to laugh or let the beast know you are amused by the situation, this will only bring you to confrontation with the snarling chef no doubt. On his way to the back he approaches the pails left from our naps earlier. In his rage he kicks one of the buckets with all his might. The bucket fly’s towards the back wall, bounces off as if controlled by destiny, pings off the roof and collides full force into the face of the already really pissed off chef. He stumbles back a few steps and realizes what had just transpired. Immediately he turns to me to see if anyone saw what had happened to him. This moment was a real test of mental will power as I was at a front row seat for the funniest moment I can ever remember. I swung my face away from him to hide my laughter and see my brother already drooped on his knees and crippled by the site, I couldn’t help it, I broke. The ego bruised chef had enough at that point and was not seen for the rest of that night. The crew their completed the service throughout periodic attacks of uncontrollable laughter and all was well, on our side of the situation of course. I’ve seen and talked to chef JS many times since that night but I have never brought up the moment he kicked the bucket. It’s probably for the best I think. |
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