Confessions Of A Chef: No Sex, Sleep Or Social Life

Ever wondered why Gordon Ramsay is so grumpy? Try a profession with no sex, no sleep, and a broken social life in an industry rife with toadying, arse-kissers.
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Ever wondered why Gordon Ramsay is so grumpy? Try a profession with no sex, no sleep, and a broken social life in an industry rife with toadying, arse-kissers.

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This is not a Kitchen Nightmares diary and is not a slagging of the industry that has stuffed me and kept me from descending into a stockpot of prescription pills. There’s just a lot of bad apples in this industrial bunch. Bunch? Apples aren’t grapes but you get me. I’m not at liberty here to go into the back of house bullshit. That’ll be another piece when I’m not suffering from severe fatigue and a broken social life. Just to give you an idea: the last time I had a woman in bed was September. That may be a joke to some but four months when you’re living and sleeping for a kitchen brigade is nothing. I can’t decipher one week from the next but I can tell you what I ate at the St.John Hotel in October.

My confession: ‘I have nothing personal against front of house’.  There’s many chefs out there who see them as dogs, slaves, shit for brains. Not me. Like chefs and managers, there’s only two types: good and bad. There’s ugly too but that’s a part of being. Blame your parents.

I’ve boned waitresses and runners. My mate’s work as maitre’d’s and supervisors. Shit, I did a year of silver service myself back before I turned 20. Wanna know what I think of as I daydream and try to sleep after a shift: an events organiser and the manager of one of my favourite restaurants. To those who question the sexuality of that sentence - managers are now female...Welcome to the brave new world.

They may not care for the staff or busted fridges but there’s one thing they do care about: Money.

The problems in restaurants usually start right at the top. Yes, the well-paid and laziest workers. They probably worked hard and licked a lot of ass to get there but once at the top they delegate and drink coffee or lunch/dinner with other like- minded slobs. That’s their job. They may not care for the staff or busted fridges but there’s one thing they do care about: Money. It’s all about money and their bonus; the rest can be swept under the non-slip matt. That money grabbing shit trickles down to the bottom of the hierarchy. It creates a disillusion. The aim of a restaurant is to serve food with an appropriate service and that’s what’ll make you money. If money is your only focus, go be an accountant or a bank teller. These diseased creatures are the ruin of the trade and there’s too many out there to stop them. Their power keeps them in position and for that not many staff speak up or go against the rules ‘cause that leads to dismissal and then you’ve got to explain to the next employer (who may or may not be a note licking toad) how and why and it’s not worth it. Just hand in your notice or move to another part of the world ‘cause these big toed coffee breath suits will be there ‘till they decide. They’re like bad parents. They won’t listen.

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