Being a chef can be stressful. FACT.
I have 40 people from the ‘Menopausal Women in Britain’ group in for a 1830 dinner. Easy street right?
The tables all seat 4 or 8 people so that means 5 tables. (5 tables of 8 =40). One bread roll on each place setting. With me so far?
The servers always lay up an extra 10% in case Miss fake tits doesn’t want to sit next to Mrs Flatulence etc.
That should make 44 spaces for 40 guests? Well you’d be wrong!! 10% of 40 equals 6 today. It’s written on ‘the board’ so it must be true.
‘The board’ is basically a tool that everyone can look at to find the correct information for the day. (Assuming that whoever writes on the board has the correct info in the first place).
I am not in the mood to challenge the 2 extra place settings and grab 2 more bread rolls out of the walk-in for service.
Then the phone rings. We know it’s internal because of the ‘special ring’.
“Hello housekeeping” I answer. Not had a laugh yet just an awkward confused silence. I change to “Hello kitchen”.
“2 people for dinner want to sit by themselves. Ok bye”.
It was the highly organized team of elite professionals called THE RECEPTIONISTS. (If you want to know how busy they are check their internet history).
I’ve guessed that the 2 guests are not included in the original 40 and grab 2 extra bread rolls from the walk-in.
I think to myself that I must write this down cos I will forget. (Right after I ring the fishmonger with the weekends order, do those holiday forms, place that job vacancy and go for a piss that I’ve been holding since this morning).
“2 more for dinner!!” Someone yells through to me. “I’ve wrote it on the board!!”
” Is that a new 2 or the 2 I already know about?” I yell back.
“It’s Mrs Gobshite and her husband with the gammy leg”. They reply.
Fuck it!! Another 2 bread rolls out the walk-in and now I need more veg cos it won’t stretch that far.
I’ve lost track of how many tables/guests we are catering for and decide to make a coffee, with hazelnut syrup to get me through the afternoon.
I notice a re-issue sheet landed on my desk with a number 40 crossed out and 49 put in its place. Who snook that onto my desk??? Why didn’t they tell me to my face?
I assume there is another stitch-up in the post.
I go into the servery to look at the board. There is more scribbles and crossings-out and a team meeting seems to be taking place. The big-I-am is leading it and tables are being moved to try and accommodate the increase in numbers. “Let’s make 5 tables of 10” the big-I-am suggests! Where’s ya 10% now? I think to myself.
I tell the kitchen brigade to work on 60 covers to be on the safe side. The menus are printed, I’ve rang all my orders through and I envisage a quick getaway. Leave the trainee and pot washer to do desserts.
It’s 5 minutes to service, starters are on trollies ready to go, mains are ticking over nicely, all the servers have turned up and are pretty much sober too!!
Only one problem.
No guests.
I poke my head into the corridor to find out what the hell is going on. I welcome Mrs Gobshite who is looking for her husband. “Follow the smell of stale piss” I say under my breath.
All the dining rooms are empty. I have an awful feeling that dinner is gonna be late. Very late!
I’ll need wine on the way home!
Chef Unknown
It's a chef's life! 