Mother’s Day Eve and rather than sleeping, I’m journaling and
listening to the new Foo Fighters, just loud enough to inspire, but not
distract. I’ll be opening my day with this while I walk the newest one through
brunch, a shift that contains the two most stressful hours of the week, during
which we run both brunch and dinner simultaneously in a kitchen that was hardly
built to handle the volume of either one at the level we’ve been
pumping.
She’s nervous, and I’ve spent some time assuaging her fears.
It’s “new cook” jitters, and I assure her she’ll be fine. We’ll be
fine. Sure, we have maybe fifty reservations on the books, probably
more. We have a fairly new wait staff, a brand new dish staff, and not a
clue what to expect. But we will be fine.
We've had a lot of line cooks come through the restaurant, and
I’ve coached each of them through this challenge of shifts, always to
satisfactory ends. I want to see them succeed. I want to watch them "get
it" and improve until they take control and own their position, learning
to stand as they grow into the confidence they need to hold this down. They
make me proud when they fly on their own, working like a team without me
holding their hands. She’ll be no different. She has the arrogant
self-assuredness that do we all, that dare-devilish rebellion which allows us
to fearlessly play with sharp objects and light things on fire.
I can’t wait to see her succeed tomorrow when I put her up to
bat.
Comments
Post a Comment