friday night, 412 covers and the ice machine
friday · 412 covers · 2 new burns
412 covers. four hundred and twelve. on a friday with two cooks, me and luis, because dani called in and trent “couldn’t find cover” which means trent didn’t look
ice machine died at 5:40. right as the rush started. it made a noise like a goose being reversed over and then it just stopped. trent’s solution was to send the new busser to the gas station across the road with forty bucks and a cooler. kid came back with six bags and a slushie. respect honestly
6:15 we’re in the weeds. tickets hanging down past the rail like a fucking wedding veil. luis is on fry and sauté both. i’ve got eleven burgers, four steaks and a salmon that some genius ordered “no salt, no butter, no oil, but make it taste good.” sure mate. i’ll season it with my tears
6:40 server comes back with a ticket that says WELL DONE BUT JUICY on it. underlined twice. that’s not a temperature, that’s a prayer. made it well done. sent it out. they said it was perfect. they always say it’s perfect
7:05 trent comes in the kitchen in his little vest to tell us ticket times are “trending long.” trent. trent buddy. look around you. look at the rail. look at luis, who has not blinked since 6. trent said corporate is watching the ticket times on the screen. i said corporate can come and flip a burger then. trent wrote something down. i think it was my name
7:30 burned my forearm on the salamander reaching for a melt. same place as last week so at least it’s tidy. put a blue plaster on it and kept going because what else are you gonna do, file a form
8:50 it breaks. it always breaks around 9. the rail clears. luis sits down on an upturned bucket and just says “fuck” very quietly, like a monk. honestly beautiful
ate a burger that came back because it had cheese on it and the guy “didn’t want cheese” (he ordered the cheeseburger). best burger i’ve ever had. a returned cheeseburger at 9:20pm on a bucket is fine dining
trent said good job guys on the way out and took the leftover slushie. tomorrow’s saturday. it’s worse