Restaurant owners tend to be mad.
Back when I was in my early twenties I did a stint of a few years working in various restaurants. In general, I find that the owners tend to either be their own best bar customers or have some other major crack in their psyche- they're generally seriously messed up people. For instance...

John owned a small tavern in a small town in Upstate NY near a horse track. It was a sort of medium-quality restaurant and a dive bar, but the food was pretty good and it was kept clean (mostly by me). I worked back in the kitchen, doing everything from washing dishes to prep cooking to stocking the bar to mopping the floors. It was shit work, but at least it kept me fed that summer.

The only thing was that John and his wife liked to drink. A lot. And John also had a fondness for other chemicals as well.

One night the kitchen was slammed with orders and we were working hard to get stuff out as fast as possible. John was on the grill and took a quick bathroom break, and shortly after started getting increasingly erratic. He was slinging food around at a manic rate and getting angrier by the second, screaming at the waitresses and at me as he worked. It was probably around 90F or more in that kitchen, which didn't help.

I was grabbing pans and dishes as fast as I could and washing them and returning them, but apparently I wasn't fast enough. John came over and started screaming in my face, and for emphasis he was holding a 10" chef knife under my nose. He concluded his tirade with "You're fired! Get the fuck out of my kitchen!"

Some things do not need to be repeated, I fucked off instantly.

I was living in a rented room, and my only transport was my feet and my bicycle. The next morning I went out on a job hunt, canvassing every place within a three mile radius- about as far as I really wanted to ride my bike. I filled out applications everywhere, and about lunch time I gave up and went to the pizza place in town. I grimly put down a couple of dollars for a slice, knowing full well that I didn't have anything to spare. Mel, the owner, noticed my expression and came out from the back to sit with me. "Everything all right?"

I put down the pizza. "Actually, no. It's all shit at the moment. John got cranked up on something last night and went crazy in the kitchen and fired me."

Mel burst out laughing. I glared at him. "Thanks, that helps a lot."

"Didn't you know? He does that all the time. You know how many times he fired his own brother? Just show up tonight like nothing happened."

"Are you nuts? Mel, he was holding a knife in my face!"

"Yeah, he does that. I saw him throw out all of the customers one night while he was holding that knife. An hour later he was passed out on the pool table. Everyone knows he does that shit. Just go back this afternoon and work."

I finished my food and thought about it for a moment, and it started to really get under my skin. A fucking game? Getting screamed at like that is normal? What the fuck! What kind of madhouse am I living in where the people just accept this?

On the other hand, I didn't have another job.

Full of adrenaline and testosterone and quite prepared to grab a skillet and administer a full-arm spang, I walked into the kitchen. John was there, digging through the refrigerator for something. I stopped a few feet away, my fingers on the handle of a hot pan. "So John, what time do you need me today?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, hey. Come back in about two hours- the races will be just about to let out then. Meanwhile go have a beer on me." And he found the tomatoes and closed the refrigerator and cheerfully sliced them up for the sandwiches he was making.

No memory at all of firing me. Hot fucking damn. No recollection of putting a knife in my face or anything. Good god.

On the other hand, I didn't have another job...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 23 Jun 2009, 16:59, 1 reply)

Sounds freaky...

I was once fired from a job by a boss to 'teach me a lesson' and then reinstated the same day.

Thankfully there were no knives involved when it happened to me though.


*click*
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Tue 23 Jun 2009, 17:16, closed)