CAN I GET THE WEEKEND OFF
I've heard and seen a few awesome attempts by chefs to get a weekend off in my time. Below are two of them that backfired severely.
Chris
The phone in my kitchen office rings, I answer it. A croaky voice begins...
"Hi chef, it's Chris, I'm not well, I don't think I can make it in tonight, I'm really sorry"
"Shit man it's Saturday night, we really need you."
"I know chef and I'd really be there if I could I really would, but I'm in no shape to cook at all"
"hmmmmmmm, okay well if you're sick you're sick, but call me if you start to feel better yeah. I really need you on sauce tonight, we're over booked and we're gonna be in the shit"
"I will chef, I will, but I honestly doubt I'll be better before tomorrow, I'm really sorry"
"Okay, get better"
Click.
To lose a front line chef on a Saturday night is tough, sure you can reshuffle the line but somewhere in the kitchen there's gonna be a hole and everyone else will have to put in another 10% to fill it. Of course we get by, we always do, but it's rarely fun.
Roll on the next day, Chris rings again, he's still too sick to come in and the same for Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday and Thursday are his rostered days off so he doesn't front until Friday. He's effectively been down for the count for almost a week. Must have been really sick.
Except... on the Tuesday Becca, a waitress, rolls into the kitchen with a pile of photos taken at Kate the Irish backpacker waitress's going away party last Saturday night at a Northbridge night club.
"Chef do you want to see some pics from Kate's party?"
"Sure"
10 pics in and there it is... Chris... Chris with his arms slung over the shoulders of two fine and cute girls and there in all of its 'guilty verdict your honour' glory is the date and time stamp in the bottom right corner. Last Sunday morning 2.11am.
Needless to say Chris had many many weekends and weekdays off from then on.
Michael
Michael's story is one of my favs, mostly for the sheer audacity and horribleness of it (is that a word?)
This all happened in London, same kitchen as this one.
Michael called in to tell the head chef the bad news. The chef relayed it all to us before that Friday nights service.
"Guys, listen up, Michael wont be in tonight or the rest of the weekend, his grandmother has passed away so he's headed for the coast to be with his parents."
Sad news indeed, always sad to lose a loved one, especially your nanna.
So we charge on ahead and do the dinner service one man down. It goes fine. The same on Saturday night as it's always near impossible to find anyone free on a Saturday night to fill in. You just have to suck it up.
I had to do the Sunday breakfast and lunch shift that weekend, the head chef was in as well, a rare thing as he usually had Sundays off but as we where a man down he was doing the right thing and putting in the extra hours.
"Chef"
"Yes"
"Phone for you, I'll transfer it to your office"
"Okay thanks"
A few minutes later the chef returned to the kitchen, he looked far from happy. The senior chef de partie asked him what was up, I was in the larder section but managed to listen in.
"That was Michael's fucking mother, she rang to ask me if Michael was here as he hadn't been in touch for a few weeks and she was getting worried."
"Huh?"
"Exactly, I told her he was supposed to be at her place for his grandmothers funeral"
"oh oh"
"Yep, his grandmother is alive and well and probably down at some club playing fucking lawn bowls right now."
This of course was met with a huge roar of laughter throughout the kitchen.
The balls of this guy, I mean pretending that your Grandmother is dead in order to get the weekend off. That's some audacious shit right there. Oh and hang on, bonus hilarity, now he's deep in the shit with his mother, imagine what she's gonna do to him when she gets hold of him. Oh my god too bloody funny.
Then just as suddenly as we had all laughed we all changed our expressions, so she wasn't dead, so we all busted our balls over the weekend and on the two busiest nights of the week no less just so he could - most likely - go out and get pissed with some mates.
What an arsehat.
Michael never came back to our kitchen, I'm guessing his mum tore him to pieces and thus he knew the gig was up, he rang the chef, they had words and we never saw him again.
Ha! The things chefs will do to get a weekend off.
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