Prior to the Pizza Hut gig, I spent a few months cooking in a fairly nice restaurant in Chapel Hill. Sean, the cook that was training me, told me on my first day there were 3 things to remember about working in a kitchen:
1. Sharp things cut.
2. Hot things burn.
3. Don't fuck with the cook.
Three days later, one of the waits ripped into him mercilessly about some small error. The wait's next plates were put up straight out of the oven, at a temperature just hot enough to melt quartz. Haughty waiterguy grabbed them, kissed his fingerprints goodbye, and dropped the plates on the floor to a cacophony of shattering porcelain and anguished howls. Sean turned to me, winked, and mumbled, "Don't fuck with the cook."
As ye have done unto the least of these, so shall they return unto thee. Doubled.
That restaurant was owned at the time by a chain-smoking alcoholic and one of our main tasks when the health inspector was slated to arrive was furiously trying to scrub the cigarette burn marks off of the kitchen counters. The old adage about legislation and sausage goes for your meal at most restaurants as well.
I belong to the Nietzchean school of gourmandizing: that which does not kill me makes me stronger. Specifically, the more germs, the more antibodies. Bring it on.
My husband, who also delivered pizzas in college, says to tip change and a dollar, since delivery drivers don't get paid a half wage and also get paid for gas. At least, that was his experience working for Pizza Hut in the early '90s. Is this now wrong?
He also agrees, the richest people were the cheapest tippers.
Prior to the Pizza Hut gig, I spent a few months cooking in a fairly nice restaurant in Chapel Hill. Sean, the cook that was training me, told me on my first day there were 3 things to remember about working in a kitchen:
1. Sharp things cut.
2. Hot things burn.
3. Don't fuck with the cook.
Three days later, one of the waits ripped into him mercilessly about some small error. The wait's next plates were put up straight out of the oven, at a temperature just hot enough to melt quartz. Haughty waiterguy grabbed them, kissed his fingerprints goodbye, and dropped the plates on the floor to a cacophony of shattering porcelain and anguished howls. Sean turned to me, winked, and mumbled, "Don't fuck with the cook."
As ye have done unto the least of these, so shall they return unto thee. Doubled.
Posted by apostropher | Link to this comment | 12-30-03 9:47 AM
I assume you've read this. If not, it's story after story like the (very funny) one you just told.
Posted by ogged | Link to this comment | 12-30-03 9:52 AM
No, but I'll check it out. It looks hilarious.
That restaurant was owned at the time by a chain-smoking alcoholic and one of our main tasks when the health inspector was slated to arrive was furiously trying to scrub the cigarette burn marks off of the kitchen counters. The old adage about legislation and sausage goes for your meal at most restaurants as well.
I belong to the Nietzchean school of gourmandizing: that which does not kill me makes me stronger. Specifically, the more germs, the more antibodies. Bring it on.
Posted by apostropher | Link to this comment | 12-30-03 10:07 AM
But is that 20% absolute or relative? Is a 24% tip 20% greater than a 20% tip or a 4% tip? High tipping neocons demand answers!
Posted by baa | Link to this comment | 12-30-03 10:33 AM
My husband, who also delivered pizzas in college, says to tip change and a dollar, since delivery drivers don't get paid a half wage and also get paid for gas. At least, that was his experience working for Pizza Hut in the early '90s. Is this now wrong?
He also agrees, the richest people were the cheapest tippers.
Posted by Julie O. | Link to this comment | 12-31-03 11:55 PM