I used to volunteer in the diet kitchen of a world-renowned zoo, where we made all the food for feeding the animals. I specialized in the carnivores, so I was weighing horse meat, measuring mealworms, counting out dead mice, etc.
We were held to very high standards for hygiene and cleanliness, even as volunteers. God forbid you kill an endangered exotic animal because you were slack in cleaning up the horse blood or, shudder, not thoroughly washing the seedless grapes.
The head dietitian and the more experienced staff often joked about how our kitchen was far cleaner, and the food much more trustworthy, than any meal coming from even a five-star restaurant in town, much less a fast food place.
We always thought about that when we went across the street to the local burger bar for lunch.
Initial context: When I was younger and my family used to go out to different fast food places we never, ever set foot in a KFC. It was only years later that I learned why.
Turns out that in the 70s or 80s my dad worked at KFC as one of his first jobs. At the particular establishment he was employed at, the grease from the fryolator had to be disposed at the end of every day-still boiling, still in a huge open bucket-type container. There was quite a walk from the counter where the fryolator was to the dumpster out back, during which the unfortunate employee whose turn it was to take out the grease had to carry an incredibly heavy container of incredibly boiling fat. Well, one day a girl who he described as young and somewhat ditsy was carrying the grease out when she leaned back the very slightest amount, and the inevitable happened and grease spilled everywhere, including all over her. Second and third degree burns, clothes fused to her skin, the works. Shortly after this my father found himself unable to consume, be near, or look at Kentucky fried chicken (the product), left KFC and became an EMT. Always thought that was an interesting transition.
At the pizza placed I worked at in college the owner scraped the meat toppings off the uneaten pizza that diners left, used it in the lasagna. None of the employees would do it even though we were told to.
Had a similar problem with a manager at Arby’s, back in 1984 or '85, though it didn’t involve “used” food. What it boiled down to was that this manager was absolutely obsessed with food cost. So the roast beef slicer had this scrap cup below the spinning blade that would catch all the little flecks of roast beef that came off the blade as it was spinning. The actual slices of roast beef landed on a platter below the blade, but the scrap cup would catch, well, the scraps.
These scraps, as they accumulated, took the form of a rather unpalatable meat paste. But as far as this manager was concerned, it was food going to waste and she started insisting that we make use of it by adding a little bit of it to each roast beef sandwich.
This ended up with a group of high-school-aged employees flat-out refusing to obey a direct order from the manager. One of them made a sandwich out of the crap and offered it to the manager. “Here, you eat it.” She didn’t want it.
Yes, we had a remarkably professional crew, mostly trained by the previous manager (like, we had standards). This meat paste incident became one more thing on the long list of stuff that eventually got that manager fired.
I didn’t read the thread all the way through,but the most common offense I noticed is the lack of hand washing after sneezing,coughing,handling poultry etc.
Pouring unused coffee or tea that was sent out in a pitcher back into the urn.( I quit one of my jobs over this)
Changing the “use by” dates on the opened items in the fridges.
One of my(penny pinching) bosses wanted us to fill a sink with water and add a touch of bleach and soak leftover cooked cauliflower in it hoping it would regain its whiteness,I told him,word for word " Don’t be a fucking idiot".Luckily he took that advice to heart and changed his mind.
I used to work at a Baskin Robbins in the food court at the Lake Forest Plaza in New Orleans East in the late 80s. The owners were cheapskates and cut corners everywhere they could. The manager always followed their orders and one rule we minimum-wage schlubs had was “if it was open (meaning no longer factory sealed), it was contaminated in some way.” So, if we made free stuff for ourselves, it would have to be when we opened something fresh from the factory. Some of the things I witnessed: the dipping cabinets (where the opened containers of ice cream are kept for customers to look at) had fluorescent lights above the ice cream. A coworker attempted to replace one and it shattered all over the ice cream. The owner instructed us to just scoop off the top layers of the affected ice creams and serve the rest. I think at the end of summer, the flavor of the month used to be Rainbow Sherbet. Well, at the end of summer, I would go back to college and then go back to work there the next summer. When I got back one year and the time came to put out Rainbow Sherbet again, I checked the side of the container (because that’s where the date of manufacture is stamped) and, sure enough, it was the same tub from the previous year. Also, in keeping with the cheap nature of my bosses: the hot fudge comes in these large cans from Baskin Robbins that say in big letters: DO NOT DILUTE, SERVE AS IS. Well, my bosses would instruct the manager to dilute the hot fudge 1:1 with water. So for every can of hot fudge, she’d mix in one can full of water. When the minimum-wagers would do it and no manager was around, we’d just pour the can straight into the warmer with no dilution. We also had these bins with toppings for the sundaes and banana splits. Things like walnuts in syrup and marshmallow creme. Well, some of those, like the marshmallow creme wouldn’t move at all because no one asked for it. And it would develop a green sheen on the surface. When that happened, the owners and manager would just stir it up. One time, we ran out of “official” Baskin Robbins whipped cream for the sundaes. The owner told the manager to go to the mall drugstore and get the cheapest, generic Cool-Whip knock off she could find. I felt so lame serving people their sundaes and topping it off with this glob of crap. So, this was a mall food court and the store where I worked faced the inside ice skating rink and when the store was closed, you could pull down a solid metal barrier so that you couldn’t see the inside of the store. One day, I was given the duty to open the store which meant getting there about an hour before opening and setting everything up. What they failed to tell me about this particular morning was that the exterminator had been there just before I showed up. And he had sprayed the inside of the walls. I was greeted when I walked in by hundreds of roaches streaming out of every crack in the store, climbing up the walls and then dying. It was raining dead cockroaches. They were falling everywhere: on me, the food bins, everything. Every surface had dead cockroaches on it. Some even managed to get in between the sides of the dipping cabinet windows that the workers lift up to scoop the ice cream and were dying on the ice cream. I called the manager and owner asking for instruction. They wanted me to open on time not realizing the gravity of the situation. If I opened on time, everyone would see a nightmare. I did my best to scoop up every last roach. People who worked in the mall got a discount on our fountain drinks and would buy their lunch elsewhere but get their drinks from us. Well, the store was still nowhere ready when lunchtime rolled around and people were banging on the metal barrier to get their cheap soda. I kept thinking “bang away you idiots, there is no way you want to see what’s going on in here right now.” I opened two hours late that day.
After I stopped working there, the mall owners decided to revamp the mall and told all the businesses that they’d have to remodel or move out. Fortunately, my bosses were too cheap to go for remodeling and did not reopen the store after the mall was revamped. And now, the entire mall is gone post-Katrina.
I was at a Vegas breakfast buffet and was side-shuffling down the line when I got to the pancake section with all sorts of delicious looking fixings for the pancakes and I was eager for a taste. The main pancake tray was empty so the cook had a huge spatula like thing he was going to slide all the freshly made pancakes onto the warmer for us to grab, but suddenly a large fly flew past me and decided to hang out on the warmer for some reason (which tells me it must have not been that hot). Just as the fly landed the pancakes all fell directly on top of him and crushed him and as the cook was walking away I told him “Hey a fly just fell into the tray!” He looked at me and shrugged “I didn’t see anything” and walked away. I did not grab a pancake.
I remember a bar that sold roast chicken to go (takeaway). It was good food and the place was conveniently located, so the girlfriend and I included it in our routine. But one day I had to use the phone and I saw there were three or four crates stacked in a corner that were full of raw chickens. For several reasons, I decided that it wasn’t worth getting upset, but then one of the owners appeared, carrying something heavy and dirty (like a toolbox), and he set it down on the stack of crates, right on top of the raw chickens. I usually discard the skin, anyway, but I got to thinking about all the things I hadn’t seen. Which can be much worse. Like when the cook asks with an unsettling smile, “So, you like that, eh?”
This is the second thread from 2012 that you have reawakened (both good threads by the way). Were you in a coma for the last six years and are now just catching up where you left off?
I was trying to find a certain topic that had the word “Restaurant” in the title and found these two topics and liked them enough I decided to revive them so I could read more stories.
I work for a Fire and Safety company. I did a service and repair call for the Ansul system at a Chinese restaurant that was so nasty that, after an hour of working in their kitchen hood above the Wok line, I climbed into the back of my van and changed into my gym clothes from the skin out, including shoes, and threw the clothing I had taken off into their dumpster.
There was a place in Allentown called PJ OMalleys where you could exit by going past the kitchen and I saw fruit flies all over the place.
There’s another bar nearby where I saw the cook take a piss and leave the bathroom without washing his hands.
One thing I’m always amazed by are restaurants that allow their kitchen staff to enter the bar or restaurant area. Its gross enough that they are walking around with aprons covered in grease and who knows what else—— but more times than not let’s face it many kitchen staff look a bit “scary” in belch and burger joints and should not be seen by the customer! If I owned a restaurant I would forbid it.
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There was a hoagie shop in PA where one of the sandwich guys was arrested by a Statey for putting too much salt on his hoagie. That might sound like police abuse but from what I heard it was a RIDICULOUS amount of salt. I saw a similar incident took place 10 years ago in Georgia: