I had a turbulent week at my restaurant internship.
Over the Valentine’s / President’s Day long weekend I worked three nights in a row and got to some more talking with the chefs during the afterhours. Chef A continued to be my mentor and I felt comfortable to share with him my little “chef success” story that had took place earlier that week. I was having lunch with people at the law school cafe and one of my friends spilled her drink all over her books and chair. I instantly got up and fetched some napkins and heard the big “oh no” gasp as I was walking away from the table. And then I thought, that was a chef moment. I didn’t think. I didn’t comment. I just reacted.
Chef A heard the story and smiled, giving me a high-five. “Good job. I am proud of you. Thank you for sharing that with me.”
Monday I showed up to work and found out that Chef A was gone.
I still don’t know what really happened and I never will. The news traumatized and scared me and saddened me more than I expected. For starters, I have to admit that I am just naive. In my past office jobs while the economy was booming no one ever got fired or laid off. People left for various reasons, accompanied by two-week notices, goodbye parties and happy hours. I think it scared me how easily someone could just leave the restaurant. I think it made the chef as a career move seemed all the more risky. Selfishly, I also feared what would happen to me, the crappy intern who had been mostly working with Chef A?
But most importantly I mourned the loss of the chance to work with Chef A. I recognize that I have been tremendously lucky to have met great mentors in the different jobs that I have held and treasure those relationships dearly. I know how fortunate I am to have people who have been there that are willing to share their knowledge and experiences with me. While other mentors may come along, so far, Chef A had filled that role for me in the professional kitchen. I was not afraid to ask him questions, both about technique and about the industry generally. And though I saw how militant he was with everyone else, I knew part of that style came from his passion for the place and respected him for it.
I felt the same way that I had felt before when I was leaving my old jobs, leaving my mentors there.
But I also, again selfishly, knew that there was a silver lining in all this. No more Chef A. Now I can see if I really do love the kitchen. Now I can experience working under a different, new authority. Now I can try to slice and dice my emotions and try to make sense of this internship experience. This is the reality: the high turnover rate in the industry. I am getting the full “restaurant” exposure — the good, the bad, and the unknown.
This past Saturday rolls around and I find myself hanging out with the chefs (minus Chef A) after work like nothing had happened. I respect them and find them to be amazing individuals, each of them. I don’t know what the working dynamics will be like for me going forward, but I realized that, for better or worst, I still want to learn from them. I still need to figure this out.
So I say, “Thank You, Chef A.” Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me. Thank you, Chef.
The Pasture by Robert Frost
I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha’n’t be gone long.–You come too.I’m going out to fetch the little calf
That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha’n’t be gone long.–You come too.
Life, Food 