Improve The World: Don’t Tip. [Journal 7-16-17]

[Servers are unworthy of music.]

A year ago, I wouldn’t sweat fifteen-hour days, seventy-hour weeks, oncall weeks, etc. But apparently, sitting on your ass for the majority of a year doesn’t do wonders for a body – plus that job was more mental than physical. Including three hours of walking to and from work, I’ve done forty-six hours in five days, and I’m really damn tired. And I just found out this morning, that I’m working tomorrow and the next day. Fucking shit dicks.

On the plus-side, the Mexicans are starting to love me. Regularly offering me food – even beer once. And they’re increasingly welcoming of me coming onto the line – there are about six people on it at any given time. They’re practically shoulder-to-shoulder, with just enough room for a guy to slide behind them. So that’s well and good, especially considering that they’re the overwhelming majority of the kitchen staff; if I’m in with the Mexicans, I’m set.

Bad news: those fuckers blast their music. I really enjoy classic Spanish music, I can even tolerate the techno/rap versions since I don’t understand the language, but mother fucker it is loud. The way the kitchen is set up, where I’m working is where the stereo is. The line is far away. So they blast that son of a bitch right in my fucking face. I can prolly just tune it out, and eventually get the necessary clout to turn it down/move it. Not a huge deal, but something I’ll have to work on.

For those unfamiliar with the professional cooking world: it’s functionally just assembly-line work. Really, that’s it. The only similarity between it and cooking at home is that food’s involved. In a professional kitchen, everyone has a designated job, and they only do that one job. One person deep-fries, one person assembles salads, one washes dishes, etc. People order food, and you assemble it as quickly and accurately as possible. The only position that resembles real cooking is prep.

In a working kitchen, you’re always on your feet, you’re regularly moving very quickly, you’re always hot, it’s very loud, heavy shit needs moving, you’re always crammed in with other people and shit, etc, etc. Basically: it takes all the joy out of cooking. There’s no creativity, there’s no nursing flavors, no savoring of time; just break-neck assembly-work in a shitty setting.

Once you learn the system, you don’t even really have to think, until it’s so absurdly busy that you’re juggling a shitton of different orders at crazy speeds. But, if you enjoy the physical labor, and you’ve got a good crew to fuck around with, and a boss that doesn’t fuck everything up, it can be alot of fun.

There is, however, a darker side to the cooking world: servers. I’ve never personally met Nazis, nor cannibalistic slaver pedophiles, or rappers, so I suppose I don’t know servers are the worst iteration of human-beings to ever exist. But I know they are empty-headed, lazy, whiny, inconsiderate, do-nothing trash that should be tied to radiators and beaten with pillow-cases filled with doorknobs – for at least fifteen hours every day.

Picture this: you’re working in the kitchen environment I’ve just described – many kitchens being far worse than described, as kitchens tend to be populated by drunks, druggies, and ex-cons. All your hard work and effort gets you around minimum wage. Meanwhile, these failed abortions [servers] totter around, proudly flaunting their sociopathy, easily making at least twice as much money as you.

They literally just walk back and forth smiling, occasionally writing something down or carrying something. That’s all they do. They could be replaced by touch-screens and a conveyor belt. And they can make way, way more money in the right restaurants. If I recall, I met servers that only worked two nights a week. Comprehend the depth of sociopathy required for them to do that without cutting the kitchen in on it.

That bullshit is the exact reason why there are a wide variety of laws and norms dealing with servers in different ways. In some places [I think Germany is an example] servers don’t get tips. If I recall, there were states in the US wherein servers are [justly] paid less than minimum wage. I’ve heard some places tally all tips, and cut the kitchen in fairly, etc – I don’t work in any of these places

In any case, I personally refuse to tip; they don’t deserve it. I’ve built houses for free, I’ve done forestry work for less than minimum wage, I’ve been a cook wherein I easily worked thrice as hard as them on average; these idiots don’t deserve more than minimum wage for walking back and forth, then standing in my fucking way the rest of the time. Put any server in any kitchen possession for a day, and they will crumble. Ok, I take that back; the strong ones might be able to handle washing dishes for two days.

If on the fence, ask yourself this question: have you ever debated which restaurant to go to, and the main deciding factor was the fucking waiters? No, you pick based on the fucking food. Which I make. Not those fucking retards that walk back and forth, and occasionally smile at you when they aren’t standing around in my way.

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~ by Louis Naughtic on August 3, 2017.

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