Meanwhile, I’ve been training the new cook I hired. I’ve assigned him to the morning shifts. He rocks socks during breakfast, but …
He’s like 22-23 years old, and isn’t grasping the urgency of getting lunch ready. There is shit that needs to get done, at certain times. I come in early to help him, and I asked #2 to come in early to help him, But I can’t keep asking #2 to come in early, because of overtime concerns … new kid needs to grasp the situation: GET SHIT DONE.
My solution when I was not the manager, was just an hourly wageslave? Show up an hour early. Work for an hour off the clock. Get all of my lunch prep ready before breakfast even starts. Because I hate having to scramble in a panic to get shit done.
But I can’t require that the new guy does that. I show up at 5AM? He’s not required to be there until 6AM.
The condolences are more appropriate. More on that later.
I just did this girl’s 90-day “probationary period” review. She has continued to be everything I could ask for in a subordinate. She actually cares about doing quality work, and cares about the customers, and has continued to step up every time I’ve had to ask her to go the extra mile. I gave her a great performance review (which will hopefully get her a raise), and I’m giving her more hours than her less-competent/-dedicated coworkers. Because I’ve found that I can actually rely on her to show up and do her job. I can’t say the same about the other teenagers.
And this guy has been here for almost two months, and I still have to remind him to get some damned potatoes in the oven by 10AM. Holy shit, dude, I know you’re only 22, but you’re old enough to learn a routine. That’s why I have you working the same shift every day: to learn the fucking routine! I honestly understand his difficulty. He previously only worked in restaurants, where there was a fixed menu, so that every day was the same. That’s not the case in a place like this, where there is a different “main course” every day (there are actually laws dictating that we can’t serve the same meal more often than every three weeks). I’ve had to keep telling him, “You need to look ahead. First thing when you come in, look at today’s menu to see what you need to do, to prepare your timing and have everything ready on time.”
But, Dear Og, I can’t just fire him right now, because my other cook has been out for two weeks. He had a “family emergency” that kept him, out for a week, and then once that was resolved he came down with some illness that has kept him out for another week. So I’ve had one of our prep cooks covering his shifts.
Anyhow, going back to my comments about “condolences”, in the first quote up there …
I’m fully expecting to get fired at the end of September. The end of this month will mark my 90-day probationary period as a manager. And I will be the first to say that I have failed. Well, “failed” in the ways that the corporate bean-counters look at. I have failed to stay within budget on food purchases. Though I can at least blame some of that on the corporate chef they sent to train me. I had a sheet in front of me in June that showed I had a budget of something like $12,000. This corporate chef looked at that, performed some math, and said, "That’s wrong. Your budget should be about $16k. And he told my boss the same thing, and performed the same math for her. So, for July, I spent based on what that guy told me.
Turns out he was fucking wrong, and I ended up more than $4k over-budget for July. I reigned it in during August, but still ended up over-budget. And now, less than halfway through September, I can see that there is no fucking way that I can stay within my budget, because our main supplier delivers on Wednesdays, and thanks to Sept. 30 falling on a Wednesday, there are five “weeks” in this month, for budget purposes. It is virtually impossible to purchase the necessary food supplies for a week here for under $3k. On my last order, I ordered the absolute bare minimum that I had to have, to prepare the dictated menus, and the bill still came to a bit over $3,100. Multiply that by five Sysco invoices, and I’m looking at more than $15k, around $3k over my September budget.
And that doesn’t even take into account that we use a second supplier, Farmer Brothers, for coffee, fruit juices, and spices. The Farmer Brothers bills are usually between $500 and $700 every two weeks.
I have largely failed in personnel management, but I’ll state that it’s not my fault that we can’t seem to get adult applicants. I can’t hire responsible adults if they don’t apply. And if I do get an adult applicant, it’s a woman with rent to pay and a kid or two feed, and my “labor budget” doesn’t allow me to offer her enough hours to make the job worthwhile for her. So get to hire inexperienced teenagers.
Top that off with the uncomfortable fact that the first of my subordinates to get fired was the lone African-American that I hired. I’m just relieved that she admitted that she messed up (it was an unfortunate verbal altercation with a coworker, right in front of customers). And I wasn’t the one who had to fire her - my boss did it, and my lost employee and I remain friends, at least on Facebook.
But I’m at peace with my eventual firing. I’ve done everything that I can to make sure that my elderly residents are taken care of, and those residents have consistently told me that everything has improved since I’ve been in charge. Well, all of them except Helen. Helen complains about absolutely everything. But, if you listen to Helen long enough, you notice that she has a rotation of complaints, that repeat like clicking the “shuffle” icon on your iPod. And, listening to her complaints for long enough, you realize that they all boil down to, “Everything isn’t exactly the way it was when I moved in here ten years ago.” Sorry, Helen, I love you, but you’re old enough to understand that the world changes.
I come out of the kitchen, after every meal I cook, into the dining room. I go to every single table, greet my residents by name, ask them how they’re doing today, ask them how they enjoyed their meals, listen to both their praise and their criticisms (and holy cow, one of this week’s specials was liver & onions, and I heard how badly I was cooking it; I carefully listened to the problems, and even more carefully listened to the advice I was given on how to cook it properly), thank them for their compliments and apologize sincerely for anything that was subpar (but I receive way more praise than criticism). But, dear Og, I dread approaching Helen’s table, because I know I’m going to hear nothing but complaints. She has some sort of vendetta against pasta. She complains LOUDLY when the day’s lunch special includes any kind of pasta. “Pasta is just a cheap filler food! You just serve it because it’s cheap! We pay so much money to live here!” I finally told her, after her last pasta complaint, “Helen, there are actually a lot of people who LIKE pasta!” The woman Helen eats lunch with every day, a disabled woman in a wheelchair (Helen is still in good shape, not even needing a walker), actually told her that her complaints were full of shit (not in so many words) a few days ago. Nellie, who normally says very little, listened to Helen going off on me, and basically told Helen to STFU
One interesting thing I’ve learned after two years of cooking in a retirement home: you know that term, “special snowflake”? It’s a term usually reserved for “Generation Y” and “Millennials”, for “kids” who grew up under the American educational system telling them how “special” they are. Well, sorry, “Special Snowflake Syndrome” is nothing new. I have one resident, Nancy, whose age I don’t know, but she’s probably close to 90, if not older. Nancy cannot order anything to eat without having to change something about it, or delivering very specific instructions on how to prepare it. I do what I can to accommodate her, because I’m like that, but sometimes I just have to tell her, “fuck no” (again not in so many words). Before I cooked in this retirement home, I already had 30 years of experience as a cook. Which means 30 years of experience with people like Nancy. And my experience with people like Nancy has consistently given me the impression that people like her think that they are better than everybody around them, and better than ME, and so they demand to be treated better than the other customers. And to that I say, “I give EVERY customer my best.” But my best isn’t good enough for people like Nancy.
But Helen and Nancy are the exceptions. I love my residents, all of them, so very much. And some of them are so completely awesome that they blow my mind. I’ve already mentioned Annith, in multiple threads, who just turned 100 years old in July, and still has all of her faculties, who still walks 2 miles every day, and is one of the most delightful smartasses I’ve ever met (I love smartasses). But, more recently, I’ve met two women, both named “Olga”. Olga L. is from Ukraine, and moved to the USA 40 years ago. Olga D. is from Germany, but I don’t know how long she has lived here. Olga L. is 93 years old, and she uses a wheelchair … and she is one of the most delightfully happy people I have ever met. But I am a student of history, and when I heard where Olga L. was born, and how old she is, I realized … this woman survived Joseph Stalin’s Ukrainian genocide!. And the other Olga … she hasn’t told me her age, but I guess she’s close in age to Olga L. Olga D. survived Hitler. That’s when my history studies reminded me that, when these two Olgas were young girls, their countries were bombing the shit out of each other. Now, they’re the best of friends, and that is beautiful.
I’ve resigned myself to getting fired. I don’t worry about finding another job - with my experience, it shouldn’t take long to find a new one. I’m just going to miss my residents, because I really love them. I didn’t know if I could actually handle this management job; I only asked for the opportunity, even if it was only the opportunity to fail.
I’ll just end with a quote from Teddy Roosevelt:
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
You’re criminally underpaid, but most workers don’t get offered market wages until they change employers. And if you think you’re on a downhill slope to firedville, there’s no better time to start looking for other jobs. Just a gentle suggestion.
I think your biggest risk at this point might be being too vocally negative about yourself. It’s great that you have a running internal dialogue that pushes you to do better and better, just be careful about how much of that doubt you communicate upstream…it sounds like you’re doing a strong, conscientious job in a role that’s difficult to fill, and you should always remember that.
May I suggest something about the food budget?
Can you go to the old files, and pull old receipts from before you were in charge?
See what they ordered, and how they managed to do it for $12,000.
Then compare your orders from the past two months, which exceeded the $12,000 limit, and make a list of each discrepancy. What did you buy that the previous manager did not? Make a precise list which you can present to your boss.
Then do the same thing for the menus…compare last year’s August menu to your own August menu this year. What did you serve that the previous manage did not? Make a precise list which you can present to your boss. Are your menus better?
It will take a lot of tiring paperwork, and you’ll have to do it on your own time. But if you can justify your decisions ,and have it all written down, you may save your job.
You’ll also have some great stuff to show at future job interviews .
Have they factored in the large increase in food costs lately? Eggs and bacon are now much more than last year. Perhaps figuring out what last year’s order costs now would be enlightning.
You know how you don’t want to fire the your workers who aren’t doing that great a job, because if you fire them you’re going to have to find some other teenager to take over? Where exactly do you think they’re going to find another dining services manager willing to bust his ass for $12/hour?
Have you talked w/ your boss about the food budget?
Your boss is supposed to be a resource for you; someone you go to when you need help in solving a problem.
Do not wait until she inquires about the food budget - it is something you need to bring up with her. Show her the numbers. Tell her the problem. Tell her what you’re doing to try and fix the situation. Ask for recommendations and advice.
You should go to the house administrator and explain that you know you’re not keeping to the budget and you need some help.
She should have her bookkeeper do a spreadsheet for you. And then you two can look at the data and make better educated decisions.
It may be that you are not shopping properly, but it may also be that prices have gone up. Or maybe it’s changes to the menu. Or a combination of lot’s of other things.
If you are fired for asking for help, then they don’t deserve you.
I work at a winery and our chef makes $5000.00 a month and he doesn’t have to work off the clock. Maybe a different industry would be more rewarding for you.
I got promoted at about the same time that everybody else got promoted. My Executive Director got promoted to her position less than two months before I got promoted to my current position. Somebody else got promoted into her former position.
I already mentioned that she was born 2 months after I graduated from high school. I have no complaint with her, but she doesn’t know shit about what I do. She’s in as tough a position as I am, and I am grieving that my failure may contribute to her getting fired as well. Except I can’t feel too bad: she’s married and has a husband whose salary she can fall back on. I’m fucking single, with only myself to depend upon.
But my boss doesn’t know shit about what I do. All she knows is that, from corporate perspective, I’ve fucked up, and SHE has to answer for it. And I hate that. She’s scrambling as hard as I am. And I’m not helping.
I can only shop one way. Here is the menu, and here is what you can buy to supply that menu. I buy only what I need, and I come up way over budget.
And this is why I expect to be fired. I e-mailed my corporate-level boss, telling her, “I cannot figure out what I’m doing wrong”. That was over a week ago, and she hasn’t bothered to answer me. Why answer me, when she already knows I’m “out”?
Also, we kitchen managers wear a different colored shirt from the other cooks. They wear an ugly green, we managers wear black. A couple weeks ago, I had to borrow some supplies from our facility on the other side of town. When I returned the borrowed supplies a few days later, handing them directly to my black-wearing counterpart, there was another dude there wearing the black. Oh, hey, my counterpart is training my replacement.
I am dedicated to my residents, each of whom I know by name. But, goddammit, I have had enough.
It’s bad enough that I have voluntarily split my days off to accommodate a cook who has to attend college on Tuesday and Thursday. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with stupid teenaged servers.
But it’s “enough already” when my bosses tell me that I have to come back tonight (after starting at 5AM), and do so every day for the next week, to deal with fucking caregivers. No, not my subordinates. Another department head’s subordinates. The caregivers help with serving meals to our “assisted living” residents. And then they all think that they get to hang out in the kitchen, distracting mysubordinates from their work.
You know what? Fuck that! I’m telling my boss, “NO”. And I am going to meet with the caregivers’ boss and tell her what’s what, and ask her to bring her subordinates so that I can personally tell them what’s what. What’s What? WHEN YOU ARE IN THE KITCHEN, YOU ARE IN MY HOUSE. AND WHEN YOU ARE IN MY HOUSE, YOU WILL OBEY MY RULES. Not only that. When I am not there, the cook I have on duty is in charge of the kitchen, AND HE OR SHE SPEAKS WITH MY VOICE AND YOU WILL OBEY HIM/HER. And if my voice is not enough, they also speak with the voices of MY TWO BOSSES. Neither I, nor my subordinates, come into YOUR workspace just to “hang out”. So, caregivers, if you are not picking up food for a resident, or asking for food for a resident, … GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY KITCHEN AND LEAVE MY PEOPLE ALONE so that they can get their own work done!
I also have to fire somebody tomorrow. A 17-year-old girl. I basically have to fire this girl for something I didn’t even witness, but was reported to me by other department heads. I’m basically having to fire Rowan Blanchard - Wikipedia because “they said so”.
Granted, she was actually on my list of people to fire, but I had at least worked it out with some planning along the lines of, “I don’t think this is your thing, and I think you should try something else”. Instead, I basically get to tell her, “You suck. Go away”.
Not a message I want to give to a young girl.My niece’s age.
I linked to Rowan Blanchard because I’ve been watching Girl Meets World on Netflix, and holy crap, the Riley character is Katelyn (the girl I have to fire), but five years younger.
But here is the problem I have run into with teenaged employees: Many of them seem to have grown up with this, “you can’t tell me what to do” attitude. Sure, if I, their actual manager, tell them to do something, they do it. But it doesn’t seem to register with them that the other department heads are also their bosses. Those other department heads are on equal footing with me. And two of them are actually my bosses, which, by extension, makes them their bosses as well.
So, Katelyn, you didn’t do yourself any favors by, after being confronted by one of my bosses, deliberately “bumping” into her every time you walked past her. Legally, that qualifies as “assault” (unwanted physical contact), and you should be happy that this 31-year-old woman isn’t interested in pressing charges.
But godammit, this is the girl I mentioned earlier, whom I suspected had a crush on me.
Well … my first problem right off the bat when I got promoted was that all of my best servers decided to become caregivers. That had nothing to do with my becoming the manager - they already had the move in the works before I got promoted.
Nevertheless, I got promoted into scrambling to find people to fill those now-vacant shifts. Which meant, mostly, hiring the first dumbasses I could find to cover the shifts.
That was then, this is now. The last month or so:
My night cook had to take a week off to deal with a “family emergency”.
While dealing with this “family emergency”, he got sick, and had to take a second week off.
He finally came back, and let me know that he was going to be moving to a different state, to be closer to his kids. He worked another week, and then was gone again, and has been gone for the last 2 weeks.
Meanwhile, my day cook (22-year-old kid) put in his two-week’s notice. Which saves me the trouble of firing him, because he just wasn’t catching on (holy fuck, how many months do you have to be working as a cook to remember to put the potatoes in the oven at 10:00 AM?) And then, when you put in your two week’s notice, you dumb kid, work out those two weeks! No, he let his new job schedule him for when he was supposed to be here, and he just bailed on me right in the middle of his shift.
While that was going on, we fired that teenaged girl I already mentioned.
Two days after that, my most senior server, one of only four adult servers I had who could work during the day, did something stupid on her own time, and broke her ankle in several places, rendering her out of commission indefinitely.
The very next day, one of my other adult servers put in her two week’s notice, and then promptly got sick with some intestinal problem that rendered her unable to work for the next four days.
Add in various teenage girls on the evening shift coming up with one stupid reason or another that they can’t show up to work.
Holy crap, one of them has a grandmother in a different city, who apparently can’t go to the doctor without her entire extended family coming to help her, so, oh my, she can’t come to work.
So, on the day shift, I was down to the one dependable guy I could count on, and the “special needs” girl. Two adults, when I needed at least three.
We finally got a new adult server hired, a girl with experience as a server …
… and she gets thrown into the middle of all this bullshit
Yesterday, I got a call from the mother of my “special needs” server, telling me that she has kidney stones, and is out of commission until things clear up.
And then this morning, my most dependable server calls me 20 minutes before his shift to tell me he can’t come in, and I literally couldn’t understand anything he said after that, so I had no server this morning, and the only other person coming in was the new girl who hasn’t even been here a week.
And I have to go out into the dining room after lunch, every day, and force a smile on my face while my knees are about to buckle and my back and feet are screaming in pain, and ask every single one of these 80-90+ people, whom I love so very much, how they enjoyed their meal, and listen to their compliments (and complaints) an apologize for the poor service. And I put on a good show. They don’t know how tired I am and how much pain I’m in. They only know that I’ve cooked them a damned fine meal, and that I love them.
Okay, I volunteer! Well, maybe not…because if I did that, you’d have a tough time keeping us updated with your next post., and I wouldn’t want to miss that.
Somewhere,some day, someplace, …somebody out there is going to tell you the same thing.
