Misinformation

I am willing to bet a decent chunk of my paycheck – actually, only about ten dollars, which is sadly a rather large percentage of my salary – that most of my friends who I am acquainted with outside of the CIA have the following vision of my daily routine:

French chefs gliding around the kitchen in pristinely white coats with large toques adorned with a silly poof tilted slightly off-center, holding a skillet in one hand and a wooden spoon in another, ever so gently stirring a sauce and sprinkling a little salt and pepper. They taste the sauce and, Parfait! , They announce to the wait staff, which is patiently waiting with a smile to pick up their order for you, the customer. Your steak is now being seared and cooked to order by a master butcher. The kitchen is filled with elegance and professionalism- a calm mystique engulfs the room as each masterpiece is artistically plated with the precision of a surgeon. Each detail meticulously calculated without error. Afterwards the kitchen staff gathers around for a grand dinner; fantastic wine, delicate cheese and fruits, crisp baguettes with a delectably soft center and perhaps a cake for dessert. They laugh and applaud each other for the wonderful service that they all put together almost as if they were an orchestra and the plates were their composition.

Well I’m here to call it: bullshit. (For many kitchens, anyway.)

Your vision of my life is not completely your fault, however! TV shows and movies have glamorized the industry that I have now sucked in to. But of course they want you to believe that each and every person in the back of each and every kitchen across the globe is specially trained and a master chef who can stand side by side with the likes of Gordon Ramsey, Bobby Flay, Cat Cora and all the other “Televsion Chefs” you can name. The reality is that the restaurant business is filled to the brim of regular everyday people who just know how to work- and work hard, at that. The days start early, the nights run late and it’s a pretty thankless job with next to no glamour for the large percentage of us. We work holidays (all of them) and earn a lot less money than those who’s weekly hours exceed no more than 40 while we hardly ever work less than 80.

So why does the majority of the service industry-employed army do what they do every day? For some, the answer is simply that it is a job that can be found in every corner of the globe from Albuquerque to Zimbabwe. For others, the passion for food far exceeds the rational-man’s thought processes to the point of obsession with flavors, textures and the manipulation of ingredients to create something from seemingly nothing. And for others still, it’s the ability to connect with the masses; feeding the drunk, the hungry, the bored, the rich and poor, the depressed, the joyous, the morose, the single-man and the married couple, the president and the average Joe alike is a wonderful feeling.

And for some, it’s to get on Kitchen Nightmares to be screamed at mercilessly by an angry British man.