Dear Feastlings,
I’ve never worked in an office that was mine and mine alone. In the early nineties, I shared an office that was so crowded we had to make sure our office hours didn’t overlap with those of our DESKmates- the TAs office in the French and Italian Department was so jam-packed that we each had to share a desk with another TA.
And an office with twenty or so people in it, trying to work around the twenty or so who weren’t in the office at the time, and their students, with people chattering away in English, French and Italian made for a difficult time.
The office in Feast, while it has only four terminals and four chairs in it, is occupied by Amy, our catering director, and me, our head busser, for much of each day, but there are two caterers in and out of it all day, typing up prep lists and looking up recipes, plus Cory, our wine director, who’s updating wine lists, placing orders and adding and subtracting wines from the point-of-sale system. There’s another line cook placing orders for vegetables, dry goods, dairy, meats and seafood among other things, and she’s in a steady conversation with the people who need her to order something out of the ordinary- an extra dozen beef tenderloins, some flower petals, persimmons, cinchona bark for the tonic we make in house, and on and on. There’s also a steady stream of line and prep cooks popping in and out to supplement their diet of energy drinks and donuts with the Third Pillar of Kitchen Staff Nutrition: Ibuprofen.
The office door opens into the kitchen and its cacophony not of English, French and Italian, but of English, Spanish, Amharic and Kinyarwandan, usually shouted over Classic Rock, La Caliente or a playlist of nearly as few selections as the Classic Rock station offers.
The phone rings every now and again with a call being patched through or a question being asked from the host stand, and cell phones beep and flutter with texts from wine reps, refrigeration people, produce reps, the meat guy, the seafood guy, the guy who’s trying to get his foot in the door with a host of products we scarcely use, the linen guy, the worker’s comp adjuster who’s been hiding from me since September, and a host of others.
My head is riddled with bumps and dents from everything that’s been hurled at it today.
BUT: I’ve still gotten the Christmas carryout menu posted,
and there’s a wine tasting posted for this Saturday,
and in the next day or two, if all goes well, I’ll have posted the prix fixe menu we’ll be offering on New Year’s Eve. But that’s only if I can keep the office door closed for a few hours.
See you soon, kind friends.
Your pal,
Doug