The Good of The Whole
by This is a story containing stories of my 24 years in Food Service. It outlines my own personal insider perspective on corporate food chains and some startling truths about the business.
In four months I’ll celebrate (?) my 39th birthday. Of those 39 years, 24 of them have been squandered in
Fast-Fry Grease Pits across my great province. I am wiser now, and have many fireside tales to weave; as
many as the scars on my arms from splatting grease and overstuffed flattops.
Ever take your family out on a Friday night to the nearest (choke) Roadhouse?
You’re greeted with an electric smile by an eye candy teenie-bopper who
somehow manages to get to your table in a timely fashion, despite the crushing weight of
“Flare” that hangs from her neon logo shirt, pulling her to the earth.
You aren’t too certain about her….is that smile painted on her face? It somehow seems to
be cracking slightly, like the Mona Lisa, despite her youth. She rattles off the Features, the Specials, the
Cappuccino, Late Mocha Smoothie Menu, the Crap-uccino, Frap-uccino and the Appet-teasers of the day.
You find yourself drifting off in a sea of incoherent Barbie Doll Babble.
Your eyes wander as your wife listens intently to the “server”.
(We can’t call them “waitresses” anymore…that’s degrading!)
Your children begin to break off pieces of the Kiddie Crayons and take aim at the poor girl’s cleavage.
It’s during this initial Roadhouse abduction that you see me far off, behind a glass divider, hunched over a
deep fryer, wondering if I should simply dive in, face first.
Brother, it’s the Industrial Revolution all over again.
One might tend to overlook the value of the suicidal staff; it’s common knowledge that we’re here because
there really is nowhere else for our under-educated souls to go. Truth be told, we hold the whole charade
together, one grueling shift at a time. We routinely take our bi-weekly minimum
wage mockery without complaint, and return daily in company policy attire like faithful dogs.
If one is lucky, he can secure a salary position within one of the Mighty
Mite food chains, thus ensuring the same pay every Friday, avoiding the ever present worry that the boss
chiseled some hours from your punch clock, and also saving your boss the agony of having to deal
with silly questions like “Can I have a Raise?”. The only requirement is a signature on a piece
Liked it
