Quitting my sandwich job is a must:
1. I had limited availability because, well, I'm a student. Then, I got cast in the improv thang and now have a weekly showlet during the one day I worked a solid shift.
2. I'm really glad I got up close and personal with the meat slicer to fuel my future veggie-capades. But, today a little chunk of roast beef flew into my face as I ground it. I also found myself wanting a pastrami sandwich yesterday. Last. Straws.
3. I will be starting a much better job on campus proctoring tests to students with disabilities next week.
The sandwich people are so nice! How am I going to quit? I feel so bad that about 25% of me is like, "Oh, I guess I'll just have to work there until I die. Too bad I can't do improv/ will convert to a bacon-lover." They keep working to train me. They are highly encouraging and have given me so many free 'wiches! I obviously should just be a normal part-time employee, grab my paycheck, and never come into work again. Or, just call in, say "I'm busy" and peace.
BUT IT JUST SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE. QUITTING IS THE WORRRRRST.
Alternate Options:
1. Get someone from my improv group to go in while I'm on shift, pretend to be my brother, and scream that I am breaking the family rules by touching animal flesh.
2. Tell the owners I lost my scholarship and am moving back to Chicago. Tomorrow.
3. Get into an offensive conversation about the Bible being stupid. (They are all Christian.)
4. Call in, faking a severe injury--like losing both my hands.
5. Throw macaroni salad everywhere. Laugh and say, "Oh, that happens sometimes!"
Why is it I'd rather completely lose face with these people than just offer pretty decent reasons for leaving? Maybe because I just want them to feel like the winners, instead feeling gypped.* Do we think this kind of attitude is unhealthy?
*WOW I just realized the word "gypped" probably originates from "gypsy." I hadn't thought of that before. Add it to the list of words I no longer say. SIGH.
Showing posts with label meat slicers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meat slicers. Show all posts
Friday, September 9, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Alice's Wasteless Space For Your Face
Work forced me to conquer one of my biggest fears ever: meat slicers. I have been afraid of meat slicers since the dawn of man. So shiny, so devious, so, purposefully sharp. So close to people's hands.
My fear was amped up about a million percent when Kay was working at a bakery and fell out of commission for a good two days because the slicer gashed his thumb open.
So, on my very very first day, very first hour of my sandwich job, I was trained to work the slicer. I didn't feel like on my first fifteen minutes of work I could stipulate I would rather clean toilets than stand near the death machine, so I swallowed the fear lump in my throat and learned.
Here's what the meat slicer has taught me: MEAT IS DISGUSTING. Obvi, I thought this before, but now, I KNOW. To slice a package of ham I take a "chub" of ham out of the fridge. It's a block of pinky flesh. I cut open the package and nasty juices spill out of it. It's pure rubber bits smashed together. (It makes you wonder how the meat got from pig, off the bone, and back into a neat lil package.) Nothing about the chunk reminds me that it was once an animal. Until it bleeds. Yes, on the slicer, blood oozes out and spills over the metal. Also, the meat is marbled with fat, which of course ends up in long strands in the slices. At the end of the entire process, there's a good inch that can't be processed by the slicer, so it just has to be thrown away.
So wasteful! Actually, inherently working food service exposes you to many wasteful practices. There's a lot of latex glove changing, a lot of "Oh this touched this, so throw it all away," a lot of storing things is disposable containers for freshness. Yesterday as I was putting a stack of provelone away, I dropped about half of it on the ground. The trouble with a family owned business, is that the owner directly pays for all of your stupid mistakes. My manager tried not to show her momentary hatred for me, but she could not bring herself to say, "It's okay" as I apologized profusely. I was thinking, I already feel horrible just for wasting the misshapen part of this cheese log. Believe me, I feel bad. You do not have to accentuate it.
I mean, I get it. Ultimately, I know about The Jungle, I'm grateful for the FDA and rules and stuff, but...if I walked into a restaurant and my waitress said, "Hey, in order to not use one hundred gloves a day, no one in the kitchen wears them anymore. Everyone still washes their hands." I'd be like, "Yes! I am coming here more often!"
If I got a sandwich with a misshapen piece of cheese on it because that's what happens when you get down to the end of the block on the slicer, and someone told me that, I'd be more than happy to eat it rather than see it tossed into a landfill.
So, my new plan is to have Alice's Wasteless Space For Your Face! A restaurant where we're clean and care about presentation...to an extent. The floor will be mopped daily, and swept often, so if your sandwich falls on the floor as the mustard's going on, we're gonna serve it to you anyway! I will serve foods that have been made improperly for half price instead of tossing them! NO, YOU CANNOT HAVE ANY PLASTIC SILVERWARE. So, does anyone know how to hide a business form the federal government?
My fear was amped up about a million percent when Kay was working at a bakery and fell out of commission for a good two days because the slicer gashed his thumb open.
So, on my very very first day, very first hour of my sandwich job, I was trained to work the slicer. I didn't feel like on my first fifteen minutes of work I could stipulate I would rather clean toilets than stand near the death machine, so I swallowed the fear lump in my throat and learned.
Here's what the meat slicer has taught me: MEAT IS DISGUSTING. Obvi, I thought this before, but now, I KNOW. To slice a package of ham I take a "chub" of ham out of the fridge. It's a block of pinky flesh. I cut open the package and nasty juices spill out of it. It's pure rubber bits smashed together. (It makes you wonder how the meat got from pig, off the bone, and back into a neat lil package.) Nothing about the chunk reminds me that it was once an animal. Until it bleeds. Yes, on the slicer, blood oozes out and spills over the metal. Also, the meat is marbled with fat, which of course ends up in long strands in the slices. At the end of the entire process, there's a good inch that can't be processed by the slicer, so it just has to be thrown away.
So wasteful! Actually, inherently working food service exposes you to many wasteful practices. There's a lot of latex glove changing, a lot of "Oh this touched this, so throw it all away," a lot of storing things is disposable containers for freshness. Yesterday as I was putting a stack of provelone away, I dropped about half of it on the ground. The trouble with a family owned business, is that the owner directly pays for all of your stupid mistakes. My manager tried not to show her momentary hatred for me, but she could not bring herself to say, "It's okay" as I apologized profusely. I was thinking, I already feel horrible just for wasting the misshapen part of this cheese log. Believe me, I feel bad. You do not have to accentuate it.
I mean, I get it. Ultimately, I know about The Jungle, I'm grateful for the FDA and rules and stuff, but...if I walked into a restaurant and my waitress said, "Hey, in order to not use one hundred gloves a day, no one in the kitchen wears them anymore. Everyone still washes their hands." I'd be like, "Yes! I am coming here more often!"
If I got a sandwich with a misshapen piece of cheese on it because that's what happens when you get down to the end of the block on the slicer, and someone told me that, I'd be more than happy to eat it rather than see it tossed into a landfill.
So, my new plan is to have Alice's Wasteless Space For Your Face! A restaurant where we're clean and care about presentation...to an extent. The floor will be mopped daily, and swept often, so if your sandwich falls on the floor as the mustard's going on, we're gonna serve it to you anyway! I will serve foods that have been made improperly for half price instead of tossing them! NO, YOU CANNOT HAVE ANY PLASTIC SILVERWARE. So, does anyone know how to hide a business form the federal government?
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