Today was my first
day back in the restaurant after a two-week break for Thanksgiving and
laminating. I arrived at 9am to discover I was the only one there. Normally
bustling with activity at this hour, the kitchen felt lonesome and appeared shadowy
and evil with no light. None of the equipment was whirring, heating, blowing,
or steaming, so it was also soundless. Looking left, then right, and left
again, I decided that my best option was to walk over to the schedule to see if
I had a day off. I did not. Today was a special prep day, and there would only
be five people working and I happened to be the first one there.
I got dressed in my chef’s coat and black trousers and
clocked in. My first step on any early shift is to make coffee for everybody so
I went into dry storage to find a giant filter and grounds for the huge Bunn
water boiler, commonly used to make hot beverages for large groups. I rounded the corner into the large pantry and
browsed the shelf for my morning desires. There’s something puzzling about
seeing letters and words that don’t make sense, and my eyes locked upon a
troubling phrase: Decaf. Honestly,
what the fuck does that even mean? Are you going to tell me that there’s a
coffee that doesn’t work, and people drink it? Overall, there were six boxes of
coffee including several brands and sizes of packages. All of them were decaffeinated
and appeared to have been there for months, if not years.
I took a few minutes to look around and in a few different
areas before I went to the head chef of Levy restaurants to lodge my complaint,
but I came up empty. I found the chef in the produce cooler and I made my case:
“Chef, I want to tell you a little story about myself.” Now, this is the guy
that offered me a promotion a few weeks back, and has shown interest in my work
and my sidesplitting sense of humor, so he sat down on a box of honeydew and
motioned for me to continue.
“Chef I have literally only one vice in my life these days,
and it’s coffee. I need coffee every morning to be productive and be at my
best, both physically and mentally. So, when I walk into dry storage and see
nothing but the term Decaf over, and
over, it’s like you telling me to go fuck myself right when I get to work.”
He got up smiled, and said, “You can go in my office and get
a K-Cup.” Always a man of few words, he returned to his work.
I excitedly nodded even though I wasn’t really sure what that
was. I hesitated, but proceeded to the office anyhow. On the way I had several
thoughts that maybe he was just messing with me, but then I remembered hearing
about a fancy coffee maker called a Keurig that might possibly utilize
something called a K-Cup. And sure enough, I found everything I needed in the
office to make myself a fresh, hot cup of morning coffee—very quickly I might
add—and get my day started.