Do you ever sit back and think about how you started down this road in the service industry what decisions you made to you take that leap to become a kitchen worker or were you like me a 15 year old kid that stared washing dishes in a kitchen? what choices and decsions lead you to start you down that path desperation for a job? curiosity? seen kitchen nightmares or hells kitchen and be like fuck i could do that and fell in love ? or maybe a family member owned a diner and this industry is all you know could be a million reasons this blog is personally about mine. If you wanna leave your stories to be posted in a blog or featured on a podcast drop us a line! it can be completely anonymous if you want! so onto my story.
The tale begins in late august the summer showers were strong and fierce that evening ,the intrigue and passion was high the mystery of nights prior ran heavy thru my mind the betrayal and hurt that was felt that night wont soon be gone for recent memory. The knock on the old door ringed throughout the house like a bell dinging in the chapel in the middle of town. They say silence has no sound but true silence does have a sound i experienced that dark and horrid evening....
Yeahhhhh not of that happened at all figure I would rope everyone in with some crime passion writing like those awful romances books you find at the drug store . The real story goes like this i was 15 years old working at a god awful packaging factory with my mom and some other family members it was in a small cramped warehouse better fitted for sweatshop work then packaging 200$ bottles of wine. The heat the smell of ice wine baking into the floor fruit flys the smell of everyone crammed together sliding bottles and cases down a table for 6 bucks an hour 10 hour days in the dead of summer. i did this for many summers the shit you will do for money as a kid is astonishing. Until one day a shining light in the form of a cleaning lady a mother of an ex girlfriend calls me asking me if i want to wash dishes this really struck a cord with me i always loved food kitchens excited me so i jumped on it . The restaurant was a small pub in the heart of niagara on the lake. Sunday morning came i was nervous never did anything like this before i get there no one is there i sat outside for an hour til someone came then i got the tour of the kitchen thought to myself fuck this it was a tiny kitchen smelled weird it was hotter then the warehouse and im stuck in a small room off the line to do dishes .met the cook seemed like a really nice guy around my age came out later in the shift he was 10 years my elder he got me to cut potatoes run stuff from downstairs told myself yeah this isnt happening ill work the shift and never come back .Then the lunch rush happened and to be totally honest my whole life changed from that moment screaming cooks lost servers food flying out of the kitchen the smell the intensity the ovens slamming shut a giant red headed cook throwing pans and threatening lives cigs and joints flowing in the back alley like it was daily routine the insanely foul language the whole flow of what was happening i had half a chub going it was like a took a drug and it hit me with all this at once i was so amazed and turned on by the kitchen i havent left and this was 14 years ago and i still get that rush of sensation every time the rush happens at work truly tremendous and hard to explain sensation thats always worth it!
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-m.m
