Once again into the fire

 
It's time to start a new semester. I'm not nearly so motivated than I was in the past.

Much of this is due to some really unpleasant people - students with unpleasant dispositions who saunter around dispensing insults like evil stepsisters tossing shredded hate confetti.

Part is the realization that other than becoming a great home cook, I may never earn even a pittance in this career, so I could very well be wasting everyone's time. Worse, if every chef I met is correct, even if I do secure work it will likely be neither enjoyable nor creative.

So as the dawn of new classes looms, I look upon tomorrow with trepidation. I recall unpleasant moments from last semester, words spat by three different students at other students, overheard in different situations...

"You need to leave, now."
"You're not wanted here."
"That's my seat. Get out!" (it wasn't).

These and even nastier comments were all uttered by students to other students. The real comments weren't so nice as this, however. I've just blanked out most of what I heard after several weeks of re-immersion in real life.

What was the justification for these comments? I don't really know. It certainly wasn't because someone is striving to create a good learning environment.

Could it come from too much reality TV? Could it be that some instructor at school talks like this, making them think this is the way a professional working environment should work? Some kind of positive feedback for negative actions?

From what source stems these people's superior knowledge and authority? They're at best two or three classes ahead of those they disdain. Were they like that before they came to the program, or were these wicked ways somehow developed during their training? Encouraged somehow, morphed into some strange topology where the most unpleasant peon is superior and only the most adamantly arrogant win? Win what? The accolades of instructors? Which ones? Why? Where is the most beneficial outcome here?

Strange. This can't be mere coincidence, can it? The same intonation, the same snide yet smug barbs spit from sneering lips. Three people, all using the same speech pattern, like they're repeating something they learned, somewhere. If not in the culinary arts program, then where? Its like there's a class, Kitchen Insults 101, where they hone their vitriolic skills before being unleashed into the world. A class whose motto is, "Never praise your underlings when you can belittle them".

And why would they think that creating a negative working environment, deriding others instead of showing them how to improve, slinging petty insults would produce better food? Wouldn't a happy, creative team in the kitchen be a good thing? Isn't a petty, backstabbing, snide pack of hissing vipers something unlikely to function well? Is culinary greatness somehow achieved not by acts of brilliance and leadership, but by grinding the competition, both real and imagined, into the dirt?

After seeing and hearing these unpleasant women in action, I know that I would not want to eat anything they cooked. I'd like to say the nastiness were gender neutral, yet it did not seem to be. Well, this semester could change all that. Maybe this time it will be unpleasant males, or a foul-sounding bitter blend of both sexes chewing away like rats gnawing on dessicated bones.

If a wizard were to gift those arrogant, opinionated and inflexible students with the ability to play musical instruments, put them on stage and bid them perform, it would not be pretty. If they remained true to their natures, each student would strive to dominate the others, to the detriment of the audience. Some might exit the stage, unwilling to put up with the strife, their talents wasted. In the end, there would be one dominant musician; everyone else would be relegated to the background. In life as it is on television. Master Chef, Chopped, Iron Chef. One winner, zero sum. Not variations on a theme but one melody to rule them all.

Kudos to an educational system that underscores the unpleasantness of a new career, even going so far as to insist people volunteer for events and then deriding them for not having a complete skill set. They're students! Get it? Students don't come pre-trained; that's what they're taking classes for. "Oh my God! You ruined that piece of meat! It's trashed!". Right. It wasn't sliced perfectly, but after being held for service, or reheated, slapped on a plate, doused in sauce and accompanied with hastily spooned accompaniments it's highly unlikely anyone would even notice that its edges were more jagged than the norm or the uniformity of the pieces lacking.

Needless to say, I won't be doing a lot of volunteering for special events this semester, at least not without taking a careful look at who will be in charge and who I would be working with.

What kind of effect will these things have on my job prospects? I can imagine a potential employer saying, "You went there, huh? We had to let the last five people go. Three were insulting, one refused to work where we wanted, one decided to modify all our formulas, and all thought they were the chef, the boss, the supreme leader. One even got into a shoving war with an employee. So, why should I think you're different?"

The employer would be right to ask such a question. If I were a chef and saw that kind of behavior in my kitchen, I'd give warnings. If it persisted, probation period over. Fail. Out you go. Or maybe I'd use their speech pattern: "You need to leave. Now. Just get out."

___

One instructor even seemed to encourage favoritism over learning. Skilled students were told to self-organize into teams that would produce the perfect dessert, leaving the rest to sink or swim. "Part of a normal workplace is self-organization" or something like that.

Remember choosing people for teams as a kid? The best players would be the team captains. They would then take turns picking their team members, going from the best to the worst. Humiliating if you were the last pick, but at least the teams could theoretically come out even and compete on an even basis.

It didn't work that way in this class. Using the same analogy, the team captains would form their own team, leaving everyone else to fend for themselves. Hah! Losers! Not the best way to spread the excellence.

The whole "best people first" thing was a great way to encourage stress. There were at least two fights, probably encouraged as a direct result of this social setup. I don't think anything got beyond yelling and maybe a bit of shoving, but still. Assault and battery really should not be part of the curriculum.

But. This isn't a group of kids choosing players on a field. This is training for professional food preparation. What newly hired recent graduate could waltz into the workplace and tell people to regroup into favorites and dregs? You get hired. You go where they tell you, do what they tell you and work with everyone. You learn how things are done. Your skills improve. You teach others. You don't put on airs and refuse to be part of the team because you consider someone your inferior.

___

Call me an idealist, utopian, dreamer, fool - but I still think things can and should be different.

Like a ray of light piercing last semester's foul miasma of oppressor and oppression, and instructor brought in films of great French chefs working in their kitchens. They collaborated, invented, tried dishes that they decided didn't work, slung ingredients, pushed the envelope. Never did they descend into petty individual competitions. They were part of a team, like a group of musicians creating a harmonious symphony. They were not afraid to fail. One even went so far as to say that a dish improved over its life on the menu, and by the time the menu changed, the plate was almost perfected.

I would like to work in that kitchen. I imagine it like a jam session, where some goal is outlined and the kitchen team gets to play with their food, testing variations, failing, learning, creating. Eventually, a new dish would be ready for its unveiling, something that would thrill, surprise and delight the house's patrons.

Why can't we strive for this model, where fun, skill, teamwork, creativity unite? If we're going to work long, hot hours for low pay, couldn't the experience be uplifting and creative?

iFail

Loud, enthusiastic applause! Welcome! We love you! You're our greatest asset!

Be not fooled! As you walk into the room, minions of the Great Pomme clap, long and loud. Yet in their hearts, how could the very people who greet you so enthusiastically not know that in a mere two days a message like this will be sent to many of the people they so enthusiastically applauded:

"Hello,

Thank you for your interest in opportunities with Apple. As you can imagine we received a large number of qualified applicants for this role. At this time we have chosen to move forward with other candidates. I want to personally thank you for your interest and for investing the time to speak with us about this opportunity.

Thank you again for your time and interest in Apple. We wish you the best in your future endeavors."

It started with people being herded to tables in the cheap hotel's breakfast lounge. We seated ourselves at cheap looking round tables clad in cheap synthetic wood, on cheap looking metal chairs with cheap looking red vinyl cushions. There was nothing to read. Bare. Cheap. Eventually, our handlers infiltrated the space, handing out papers to fill out, duplicating information that we'd already been sent electronically. They chatted with some, ignored others.

Once the chatting was over and the forms filled out, we were ushered into another nondescript room filled with ranks of the same cheap steel and vinyl chairs, greeted by a wildly clapping line of interviewers standing in front of a large screen.

We had to watch videos about how great Apple is. How successful they are. How it would be such an honor to work for them. While all the while they were hatching their strategies to eliminate an unknown number of people in the room. Yes, unknown, for when the question of how many hires they were contemplating, they said they didn't know. Disingenuous for geniuses, masters of dataflow, analysis and computation. Don't know? I suspect they knew to sixteen decimal places, but were too sneaky to blurt out the truth!

Like Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies, the adversary, father of all lies, prince of darkness, the devourer, Mammon, enemy of righteousness, Abbadon, angel of the bottomless pit, their apparent sincerity was but a deception. Their "handpicked" candidates were not so appreciated as they would have you believe. We were like sand to be sifted for pearls, discarded after false show of sincerity and enthusiasm. It was, alas, nothing but smoke and mirrors. Hype. Hollywood. False feel-good.

The event was presented as something different, somehow better than other companies. Yet, in the end it wasn't. It was just Apple's way of spinning a cheap way to screen people into some kind of "festival". Five employees interviewing probably 300 people. Cheap. Nobody had a personalized interview. Some might say they cost-reduced the initial rejection interview screening phase by conducting group interviews. Even the pens they gave out were from the hotel, not Apple. If Truth were to walk naked through the corridors to proclaim a fit title, it might be the Screening And Rejection Event. Who would come for that?

Hotel logo pens? They were too cheap to even part with a souvenir branded with the Apple logo? The pens weren't even retractable. It's not like anyone was expecting an iPad, but still... doesn't Apple believe in swag to add physical hype to their cheerleading? No? No. Did they bring signs directing people to the event room inside the hotel? No! Unnecessary cost! Not too user-friendly, when it comes to recruiting. Clapping and video is cheaper than creating a look with actual objects, it seems.

They even spin the job benefits. Full time employees get some; part-timers get scraps, but only after three months' employment. Let's see the likely outcome… work November, December… (let's just imagine that the work is seasonal) FIRED. Not even two months. No bennies! iFail!

The applause was in the end more a brutal slap in the face than if it had never happened, a mockery of everyone they rejected, like a hot kiss followed by a kick in the groin. Better that they had saved their applause for the anointed few who passed through the fruity gates into Apple Nirvana. Why waste applause on people you plan to reject a mere 48 hours after you so "enthusiastically" greeted them?

I remember noting that none of the people doing the interviewing had been at Apple for more than five years. Some had been there less than a year. I then thought: if this company is so wonderful, how come none of these people has been there longer than a few years? If Apple is Nerd Asgard, why the relatively short employment spans? I'll never know. The applause wasn't for me; it was only for the people they wanted. I was but a spectator.

Rejection letters: what if...?

What if rejection letters, when they bother to send them, actually said something interesting and useful? What if, instead of say-nothing pieces of corporate pablum, they informed, amused, guided? What if they just told the brutal bitter truth, without any sugar coating?

What if a company, in the rare instance where they bother to send anything at all, also set up a feedback or question channel? So there could actually be some real communication? Do I mean waste some employee's precious salary time to actually respond to follow-up questions by useless people? Yes indeed. Useless people still talk, they might have even been customers. They might not be so useless if you communicate directly - maybe their lives don't fit into predefined little boxes on a computerized application form. You never know. 

Here are some rejection letters that will never get written:

Brutal Truth

Dear Applicant,

 In analyzing your application, we determined that you have more experience and education than our managers. Hiring you would make them uncomfortable, and we worry that you might not be controllable nor fit into our corporate environment. 

Please stay away. You make us nervous.

The Management

Honest

Dear Applicant,

We get so many applications that we just let the computer sort them out. There's not really much difference between all of you, so it comes down to this: since you didn't know anyone in the store, we didn't hire you. Next time, remember that boot licking is a valid tactic.

I'd say that we wish you the best of luck in your employment search, but that would be a lie. I really don't care.

If by chance you become friends with one of our managers, re-apply. If not, don't bother.

The Management

Sadistic

Dear loser:

If we wanted to hire you we would have called. Some technocratic MBA in our company requires us to notify useless toads such as yourself whether we want to or not. If it were up to me, you'd remain in suspense forever and I could do something more useful with my time than write form letters. You really don't deserve anything.

We looked at your application. It tells us that you're a washed-up, unsexy basket case who can't do any better than to apply for a no future, part-time seasonal position doing menial tasks that could be done better by a monkey. Your life is a waste, you'll never amount to anything, and there's a reason your love life isn't working.

In case you're too stupid to figure that this letter means NO, it does. We don't want you, we never will, and please don't ever come here again, not even to buy a cork to plug your leaky butt.

Mr. de Sade, personnel.

Feel good

Dear Valued Applicant,

We loved everything you've done with your life, but regrettably cannot hire you at this time. 

Our store is small, and even though you seem wonderful, we just don't have room to hire that many people. We'd really like to hire everyone, but we can't.

Thank you for considering us as your employer. We are honored by your confidence that we could make you happy in the workplace. Thank you again.

Thank you for your time and we're so very sorry that we can't hire you.

Have a nice day and thank you again,

The loving, caring personnel department

Poetic
Electrons flash, phosphor glows,Information flows luminous.
Eighty-three words, a life.
Digital Freud 101010... 101010;
Analysis/cognition/evaluation/calculation/correlation.
Helium II heart.
Conclusion.
Result.
Sorrow.

Paranoid

How did you find us? Why did you apply? It seems you have knowledge, experience and skills. It says you work hard for low pay and don't mind. Are you here to take my job? I have fifteen cats and three turtles to feed! You can't do that to me! I have needs, and you're trying to destroy my life. Did John in human resources put you up to this? Well, I'm on to you now. I know he's wanted me out ever since I broke his beer stein at the office party five years ago. I see what you're up to and it won't work! I'll stop you! You can't work here! I'm not afraid of you! I say who gets hired, your plot is foiled! You won't infiltrate my company. Your evil attempt to destroy me is over. Terminated. 

Bonkers

I had a pair of socks that looked just like you. They didn't have any toes. Maybe you have toes, though. Socks are nice. I want them back, but rodents took them away for nesting material. I never saw them again, just like I'll never see you. 


Depressive

I don't know why you want to work. There's really no point. It does no good to work when the government and the banks will just take your money away and leave you shivering in the cold. What would you buy with it? Stupid things that you'd never remember ten years from now. Buying things only makes you feel better for a few minutes, then you get the bills and feel worse because now you're more broke than when you started. You only think you need a job, but you don't. You don't need anything, because nothing matters. Whatever you do, you'll die eventually, probably alone and unaided. That's life. It's all dark, there's no hope. Your money will run out, you grasped at the wrong straw and we're throwing you into the raging current to drown, bloat and wash out to sea. We only hire people like myself, who see reality for what it is.


Short, direct and obscene

Hey Asshole!

Who the fuck told you that you could work here? You can't. Your application wasn't good enough for us. Looks to me like you don't know shit about anything, so don't come back later knockin' on my door. It's closed. 

What do you think we are, a charity? We're not here to save the world, pal. We're here to get rich. So we owe you nothin'.

My asshole boss makes me respond to jerks like you, so between you and me, I'm gonna tell you some things. The pay here sucks, it's not even enough to buy cat food, there aren't any bonuses, they ask for unpaid volunteer hours to "stay competitive" but the shithead bosses all drive new fricken Audis. Figured out where you'd fit in? Yeah, right in the shit, up to your eyebrows.

Louie, personnel

We are the one percent

There are 49 million people living in poverty right now in this country, almost a fifth of the population.

You're one of them. 

I'm not. I have a fat bank account, a stable of luxury cars, properties all over the world. My mistress gets more money per year than the operating budget of Burkina Faso. I also happen to be the boss of the huge conglomerate that owns the store where you applied.

I don't care about you, because you're poor. If you weren't poor, you wouldn't have tried for a low-paying temporary job and I wouldn't be sending this message. 

You'll stay poor and I'll stay rich. There's not a damn thing you can do about it. We own the government. They won't help you.
Geeky

:-(

Succinct
No!

Informative

Dear Applicant,

Our state-of-the-art job applicant analysis software scanned your application. While we cannot give you a favorable response to your request for a job, here are the results of the analysis:

• The computer determined that based on your experience and education that you're older than our standard hiring age. Perhaps you should try babysitting.
• Your skill set was excessive for someone who would just be selling knick-knacks, expensive little machines that sit on a counter, gizmos and cookbooks. You would just be bored.
• We received over 1204 applications for this position. Some were recommended by our employees. They get the jobs; you don't.
• Your use of words such as "consequentially", "numerically" and "mise en place" place you outside of one standard deviation of the current norm for Pacific State Standard American English. Our customers wouldn't understand a word you would say. 
• Your experience in this exact position was insufficient. You indicated three years or more of sales experience, but it was not in one of our stores nor a virtually identical store run by a competitor. We require that you did the same thing for at least ten years, sold the same items and were never promoted.
• The position you applied for requires a total lack of ambition. It's seasonal, so no matter how well you perform you will be released from employment on December 25th at 1:00 am after you finish cleaning and re-stocking the store.
• Currently, we prefer applications filed in text mode: U will C 4 me is gr8t 2 wrk @ your biz. This communication form wastes less server space.

We hope this information will be helpful to you in the future, and that it will console you to know that there was really no possible way for you to get this job short of a close personal connection with the Management.

So long,

The Management

Rejection slips, corporate America's way of saying they care

You're going downtown!

Sur la Table
in this case, "Dans la Poubelle" would be more accurate.

Well, amazingly enough, I got an answer from Sur La Table, one of the places that requires an online job application. It came from someone named donotreply@surlatable.com. They said this:

"Thank you for your interest in Seasonal Sales Associate position at Sur La Table.

After careful consideration, the decision has been made to pursue candidates whose qualifications more closely meet our needs.

Thank you,

Sur La Table"

I doubt that even an A.I. could have formulated a less human response, nor one that gave less information as to what, exactly I didn't qualify for. "More closely met our needs". OK, fine. In what way? What needs does a store hawking cooking supplies have, if not knowledge of the goods being sold and sales experience? 

What the hell is "careful consideration"? Do they have "careless consideration"? Did someone get a message stating, "We carelessly considered your application, and after a few beers, a kiwi martini and a couple of drinks we'd rather not name, we decided we don't like you. Go away.". What would the careless process be, exactly? Darts? Dice? Cockroach races?

I also love the use of passive voice: "The decision has been made". As though they didn't make it, as though some other agent made the decision, but they're going to keep who it was vague. Perhaps a well-worn ouija board kept in the closet for seasonal hiring? Did someone channel a nameless dybbuk out of the void?

Then they "pursue candidates". Right. Hello! If YOU were pursuing candidates, they wouldn't need to fill out your application! YOU would contact THEM! Get this: candidates pursue YOU. That's how this whole nasty, degrading, depressing evil corporate mindfuck works. They apply, you reject. Get it? Just say "contact", "follow up" "respond to". Not "pursue". Wrong verb. 

This said, I do like Merriam-Webster's definition of "pursue": "...overtake, capture, kill, or defeat". Maybe I should count my blessings and be happy they're not "pursuing" me after all.

It's not like I was applying for the position of CEO. I was going for Seasonal Sales Associate. Expendable, temporary, and not necessarily highly qualified. So WTF? I didn't list elf boots as an asset? Not enough, ho ho ho?

Your application was processed. You don't fit in. The Decision Has Been Made. Go away, and never come back. You're off the table.

I had a painting gig (watercolor) in the area, so I decided to pop in and see what their "more qualified" people looked like. They looked kind of like this, from memory:

The design creeping under the woman on the right's top is a tattoo. She is not sheltering a large green creature on her breast. Yes, her top did plunge like gnocchi dropped into hot water.

None of them looked to be over thirty years old. Some of them didn't even look like they'd hit twenty-five. Is age a qualification?

No. You can't have a job, and other rants

This one's political.
After my desultory attempts at finding some form of supplementary employment, I've come across all kinds of corporate strategies to reduce all people to something resembling a cockroach immediately after molting, and to treat them accordingly. Then I sometimes have flashes of insight on other issues, like the tax structure. So, here they are, my comments and recipes for moving everything a micron closer to utopia.

Taxes
I tried to send a message to President Obama via the White House web page, but all I got was a bunch of nonsense error messages, an endless "connecting" message and finally the message above. In other words, I got the electronic runaround. Isn't it great that politicians can make their web sites act just like real politicians?

All I tried to say is why don't you tax the rich when things aren't going so well, and lower their taxes when they are? In other words, create some incentive.

Maybe it was too simple an idea for a political computer server to understand. Maybe they just don't want to hear about taxes. I would think that some index exists out there that gives the current pulse of the economy, and could be used as a tax index. I mean, there are all those fancy PhD economists out there who constantly create indexes for this, indexes for that.

The way I see it, giving money to the rich won't help anyone. When is the last time a Wall Street mogul bought you a drink or your bank gave you real interest? Yeah, that's what I thought. The rich just invest their money offshore where they get a high yield. Maybe they'll buy a company and outsource everything except highly paid executive positions to a far-away land where workers are paid in some currency with an exchange rate measured in peanuts.

But if by helping the common man, elevating the middle class to a livable position, they can save on their taxes, maybe it will be like giving them a heart. Like virtual caring. Like Robin Hood's spirit really does live on, somewhere, instead of the current "steal from the poor and give to the rich". 

Applying for employment
While I'm being political might as well throw some well-deserved rotten end-of-season tomatoes at the inhuman, degrading policies of Corporate America when it comes to the hiring process.

Psychobable
Once company brags about being a Fortune 100 Best Companies to Work For. Perhaps, once you're hired this could be true. However, their hiring process leaves a lot to be desired. Like their fifty question psychobabble personality-id-ego screening test that applicants must take online. I suppose some squinty-eyed human resources cyborg considers this to be the best, most accurate way to eliminate everyone who will not fit into their corporate culture. No matter if they're applying to be a janitor, serve cheese, shoot photographs, bake bread or cut meat. It's obvious that all these people will have identical personality profiles. Isn't it? Yes, the HR people say so! The strange thing is that it seems like this barrier comes up even before questions like can you really cut a slab of beef into recognizable (and sellable) steaks and roasts? Or do you know an f/stop from a unsharp mask? Nah. What matters is your karakteristika, comrade. Skills are nothing next to a personality that scores 85% or better on their little Turing test.

Feedback, now you want feedback?
Most application processes are online, automated, unseen by actual humans, never pondered by human brains. I imagine that there's some kind of filter algorithm that searches for key words, correlations and Spock's brain to determine if you're fit to enter into the ranks of their poorly paid part-time seasonal minions. So, they are very good at checking everything as you apply, moving data from page to page and finally, when the SUBMIT button has sent your entire life flashing through the ether to their server, sending a APPLICATION RECEIVED message to your e-mail. After that, unless some wannabe AI found you intriguing, apt and compatible, you may hear nothing. Ever. Or, you may receive an impersonal, passive voice message that gives you no information on where you failed to measure up, but leaves no doubt that applying to their company again would be a tragic waste of time.

Strangely enough, right after I posted this I got a rejection notice written in Corporatespeak, basically saying to get lost and stay that way.

It seems that the people who have found jobs typically knew someone in the company who could get them around the system. I wonder how they scored on their karakteristika.

How do I know you're not...
Some companies assume you're guilty until proven innocent. They want to know you pay your taxes, aren't some kind of criminal, haven't plotted against a government (except perhaps some enemy of the USA), that you feed your fish and are kind to stray cats. All this before you're even considered for a job. No investigation of your entire background by a company who can't even guarantee that their data will be safe from hackers. I want to investigate them, too. Can I see if the people looking at my social security number, address, driver's license, etc won't run off and sell the data to identity thieves? No? Why not? It's not like these corporations really hold the moral high ground here. They do hold lots of lawyers, though. So you hope that your information is safe and that if it isn't that someone will make things right. Yes, I'm dreaming. It probably isn't and no, they won't.


Your information is safe with us!
Some companies are small and do things the old-fashioned way. They accept your application on a standard form that's somehow different for every place I've applied to. Then they toss it into a drawer. Safe. Secure. Don't think about what could happen late at night when you can't sleep. Maybe I'm wrong, and they shred it as soon as I walk out the door. From all the calls I've received, this may indeed be the case.


Immigration status for sale
I just read that some senators want to give some kind of residential visa to anyone who comes in with cash and buys a home over $500,000. Yep, half a million bucks. Once again, handing something to the real estate industry on a platter.

Actually, this is a good idea. Except for the "buy" part. I'd much rather see "build" than buy, since that would employ a lot more people and not just give more gravy to the real estate industry. Building a home means new permits, so local governments get some money. It hopefully uses designers, architects, landscape architects, engineers, interior designers to determine its form and function. Then there are all the materials - and these could be required to be from the USA. Then there's the small army of people who will pound those nails, lift those trusses and polish off the new American dream home.

You're not corporate
You've done everything the qualifications list, or better. You know the software. You know the processes. You'd be great at this job... except... you're not corporate. You never did these things while working in the bowels of a large company. You never managed corporate people. You didn't do what you did in the corporate way. You're not one of us, your resume is non-standard. You know too much, yet you know too little. We're not talking to you. So what if the qualifications demand you know 27 technical computer programs, speak 12 different languages, are able to pilot a hovercraft, can prepare sauce béarnaise with five variations, have experience working with naked mole rats in their native habitat and can type 178 words per minute? You're not qualified unless you're corporate.

A bit of chef satori

The chef and sous-chef I worked with at the event were great. Everything went smoothly, the guests were well taken care of and they actually seemed like human beings. Everyone put their head down and did their job. They greeted guests with a smile and described their offerings in mouthwatering detail. They had some of the best food at the event. Coincidence? I think not.

They were professional, paid great attention to quality, and helped to restore some glimmer of hope that I could, someday, find a niche in this industry. Although I wasn't asking them for a job, either.

Employment wasn't why I was there. Gaining experience, learning, talking to working chefs to see how they think and act, their approach to food, watching them work and seeing if they enjoy their job were. A bit of culinary exploration wasn't out of the question, either, with so many restaurants present.

Near the end of the event, they released us to wander the event, taste food, quaff wine, sample beer... and check out the other restaurants. Most were staffed by people who looked like they were enjoying themselves. They also looked like they were proud of what they were serving and happy to share both food and information.

One chef, however, was not smiling. He hovered in the space behind a table laden with food samples, scowling. Unfriendly. Unwelcoming. I'd never met him, as far as I know. So why was he scowling? I'd never visited his restaurant. I never sent them a job application. I don't know his name.

Did he somehow recognize me from past comments in this blog and resent something I'd said about hiring, courtesy, professionalism? Yeah, I didn't exactly hold back when telling of my first experiences as a back of the house job seeker - yet those were my feelings. After all, when someone won't even give you a chance, not even an unpaid stage, there's not much risk that offending him will lead to denial of a job. When giving someone a job application - even if it's in bad faith - is too much to ask, there's not much left to say or do, is there?

I suddenly realized that if things had gone differently a year ago, I could have had this guy for a boss. This could be his normal nature, his mien totally unrelated to anything I might have done or said. This man was someone who could have turned my first foray into the hospitality industry into nights of living hell. Or this could be a bad first impression and things could have been great - who knows?

In any case, nobody said that working in a restaurant is easy, and if by some miracle I'm ever hired, I hope it's by someone who leads by inspiration and guidance rather than fear.

So, I'm continuing with my classes, even though they may in the end prove futile in my effort to find paid work in the hospitality industry. If nothing else, I'll be able to cook and bake pretty much anything. I'll probably know enough to open my own restaurant, although the day I decide to do this is the day I deserve to be swept away to a calm place by men with sharp hypodermics and soothing solutions.

Flashback: November 2010, waiting for a call. Any call.

You can fool some of the people... not that I really considered myself one of these people, but still I thought at least someone would call, e-mail or maybe send a message to my chef/instructor to let him know why they ignored his recommendations and left me twisting in the wind. That someone would answer one of my messages even if it were just to tell me, "sorry".

At this point, my perception of the restaurant industry, and chefs in general is not exactly at a high point. Some of these guys made big-headed architects look positively humble, and with much less justification. Although some people I talked with were straightforward and correct, never promising to recontact me or otherwise stay in touch, others were poster boys for case studies in bad human resources management.

Before, I considered chefs in local non-chain restaurants to be artists exploring new culinary frontiers, delving into fascinating flavor combinations, and living for the joy of bringing great, unique food to hungry people. I thought they, like people in other industries at a management level, would act professionally, with courtesy and respect for others. Or at least go through the motions of doing so.

I naively thought that chefs would want to hire people passionate about food, regardless of their age. That in fact, someone who had traveled, sampled other cuisines and cooked in other parts of the world would be seen as a valuable addition to a team. That kitchens had at least some minimal degree of collaboration and exchange of ideas, like in that video about El Bulli (yes, comparing El Bulli to Sacramento's dining establishments is like comparing mud pies to beef Wellington, but still...)

Now, my opinion of the norm has shifted. I see many of them as poor managers imbued with a large dash of arrogance. People who don't look for broader skill sets than someone able to stand upright, brunoise a potato or julienne a carrot as fast as possible for the least possible amount of pay.

Worse yet, I'm beginning to think that I'll never even be given a chance. That this whole culinary arts thing is a waste of time, at least as far as actually working in this industry goes.

People tell me not to give up, that I just haven't met the right people yet. That a place exists where I could contribute something and be accepted as a comrade instead of a nuisance.

The job situation: December 2010

To date, not one of the people I contacted for a kitchen job has called me back. Not all that surprising for those who just said to drop off a job application. A bit more surprising in the case of Matt Woolston of The Supper Club and David Feldman at Matteo's Pizza and Bistro, since they had been communicating up until I met the enigmatic Mr. Feldman.

Granted, I was asking them for something, not the other way around. If they'd never said to keep in touch, or that they would contact me, I'd have no issue. But they did. Shouldn't this mean that they should at least follow up with an e-mail?  

I would have understood if he'd said, "We only hire people with previous restaurant experience, and being in a culinary arts program does not count." Even, "Call us when you complete the program." Even "Go away and never come back." That would have been direct and straightforward. But "I'll contact you when I'm not busy" leaves an expectation that my qualifications were acceptable and that hiring at some future date could be a possibility - and that further communication would actually happen.

I continued for a while to send updates to Matt Woolston, who had previously replied almost immediately. Now, the rule had become absolute silence on his part. Ditto for Mr. Feldman, as the messages were cc'ed to him.

I find it very strange that prior to actually meeting them, these people replied quickly to my e-mails, and were more than willing to communicate. Yet, strangely after meeting with Dave Feldman, neither he nor Matt Woolston would even acknowledge my existence. My past experience hadn't changed - in fact, I'm more qualified now than I was then due to having completed more lessons and prepared more dishes in class. Yet, absolute silence.

I started to ponder what factor could have caused such a drastic change of attitude. I had gone to the interview well dressed, with short, clean hair. I spoke clear English, and did not ask for an advanced position nor too much money (unless "anything minimum wage or above" classifies as "exorbitant").

Could it be that I was not the typical nineteen year old student looking for his first job? Could it be that actual experiences and a life were a liability? Could these people actually be practicing age discrimination? If David Feldman was not practicing age discrimination, wouldn't he have asked me to fill out a job application as proof? He could always trash the application when I left, but at least I'd have felt that he was at least somewhat sincere.

I talked to some friends about looking for work when you're no longer under 25. One said to die my hair, the darker the better. Another said to eliminate all college degrees from my resume. "Lie about your restaurant experience" added another. One wise person said, "Do all three. It can't hurt, and since they're not hiring you when you're honest, what have you got to lose?". Another said, "Too bad they only want people with no experience or other skills that could really be useful - like photography and sketching. Not to mention having eaten food in a lot of restaurants in a lot of different places so they know what it should taste like. Guess they just want young and cheap." As opposed to older and cheap, I suppose.

Perhaps saying "I'll get in touch when I'm not busy" is equivalent  to the "emergency powers" clause of a banana republic's constitution, where all kinds of rights are granted to the people, but can be suspended under certain conditions. All the dictator need do is declare the conditions present and suspend all constitutional rights indefinitely. So, presumably he knew he would always be busy, thereby negating his need to ever recontact me. This still doesn't explain Matt Woolston's silence, but at least it's an explanation that any Vulcan would accept.

Flashback: October 2010, La Petite France

Maybe I would have better luck with a bona fide French chef? Maybe someone coming from a different background would see things differently...

Besides, for once speaking French might actually be useful for something besides talking to francophones.

We had a nice talk about the restaurant industry, how difficult and uncomfortable the work is, ingredients, Mother Sauces and what it's like to work for a chef. None of it was encouraging, but I'd heard it before - except the part about the mother sauces. I filled out an application form, and at least felt that for once I'd had a decent conversation instead of a brush-off.

Also a nice change, there was no promise to call me back. He just took my job app and said if something developed he'd be in touch. Assuming I still wanted the job, and had not come to my senses.

Flashback: October 2010, Latitudes Restaurant

Acting on a tip from a classmate, I went to Latitudes Restaurant in Auburn and talked to Pete, one of the owners. They had been looking for help in the kitchen for several weeks. Unfortunately, they decided to hire their dish washer or someone for the position four days before I arrived.

Nonetheless, I filled out a job application, had a brief talk with the owner, and left.
"We'll give the new guy a month - if things don't work out, we'll give you a call."

Flashback: September-October 2010, Matteo's

Should have interviewed the kraken instead...

________________

UPDATE: It seems that the person named in this article is no longer with the restaurant. There's a new person in charge. Still, it's not a place I'd like to return without a few months of experience in a restaurant kitchen and some solid recommendations from chefs they respect.

________________

Flashback to my totally unsuccessful attempts at landing even a temporary, part-time, poorly paid job in a restaurant in the autumn of 2010:

This time, things were less encouraging. Worst. Interview. Ever. "Most hypnagogic interview", "Interview from the Twilight Zone" and my perennial favorite, "WTF?!" are equally appropriate. I suppose "Gone in sixty seconds" works too. "Volver" doesn't.

My chef instructor had also contacted Matt Woolston, owner of The Supper Club and Matteo's.

Upon contacting him, I received a reply: "Shoot me a weekly reminder and I will forward this email to Chef David Feldman who takes over the realm at Matteo’s on 10/1."

I had fond memories some nice meals long ago at Savoy 614 in Folsom, where Mr. Feldman was involved in the back of the house.

After sending an update, I received a more encouraging message from Matt Woolston:

"Thanks for checking in!

I will cc Chef Charlie at Supper Club and Chef Dave at Matteo’s and let them know you are looking for some hours.

Feel free to email them directly with your availability.

Matt"

Finally, things were moving forward! A message from David Feldman was encouraging:

"I would like to schedule a time to speak with you in person. I am at matteo's all week, minus wednesday and am available to talk any time. Please let me know."

So, I went in the next Thursday. I entered through the back service door, walked through the kitchen and found Mr. Feldman up to his elbows in fish. Apparently "any time" has different meanings to different people. Since he did not respond to my e-mail asking for best hours, I went in the morning well before service. Bad time, apparently.

Upon meeting David Feldman, I felt about as welcome as a hissing cockroach at a food hygiene convention. He fixed me with an uncomprehending yet hostile stare, and asked what I was doing there. I mentioned our communications via e-mail and a bit of my background.

"Any restaurant experience?" he asked. "No", I replied, "That's what I'm here for."

"We don't currently have any open positions."
"Well, you said to come in to talk, so here I am. Maybe something will open up in the future?"

"And you want to work on the line?"

"Yes, but I'll take any position."

"Well, I can't talk now. I'm busy. I'll call you when I'm not busy."

"Thank you for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you soon."

The whole thing was over in three minutes or less. It seemed that all he wanted to do was get me out of his kitchen, and the sooner the better. I couldn't tell if his fixed gaze was the result of shock, surprise or some other reason.

He uttered something like, "Uh, well, I just got started here, and I'm not sure where things are going... "

The guy has at least fifteen years of experience as a chef, as far as I know. What the heck was that comment about "just started" and indecision? He'd been in this position for supposedly two weeks, and logically one might think he would have had an idea where he was going before he even started. You would also think that with that much experience he would not need two weeks to figure out what to do in his kitchen.

Maybe I really don't "get" this profession. Aren't chefs supposed to be perfect masters of the culinary arts, able to create a gourmet meal from the most meager ingredients on a moment's notice? Turn a sow's ear into... well, feijoada. But that's another story.

Another bottled message cast, this one floating low in the water, its glass cracked, water seeping in, the kraken's tentacle reaching...

Needless to say, this meeting did not involve filling out a job application. If I'd been asked to submit a job application, I would at least have some feeling that my application, however unsuitable it might be, could somehow end up in the hands of someone who might actually give me a call.  I would not feel as though I'd been summarily judged and dismissed without any chance of a most beneficial outcome.

Flashback: September 2010, Crush 29

grape No. 29.

On the recommendations of one of my chef instructors at school, I wrote out a resume and ventured forth to meet some chefs and test the employment waters. Little did I know that none of the people I talked to would ask for a resume. They go by looking at you and by what you put down on your employment application, apparently.

My instructor went beyond my initial question - which restaurants are good to work for - and actually contacted some chefs he knew (and he knows a lot).

The first contact was Darryl Madeira, at Crush 29 in Roseville, with a message: "have him stop by the restaurant and i can talk to him"

So, off I went, arriving at 3:00 pm when things in the kitchen were slow. We talked for about ten minutes. Or rather, he did. I managed to get a few questions and comments in, but the main conversation focused on how he did a favor for someone who couldn't take the heat and got out of the kitchen by leaving a note on Darryl's windshield and disappearing. Somehow it seems that I was put into the same boat as this person, who as far as I could tell did not even attend culinary arts classes before getting the job.

At the time, there were two prep positions currently open and I should talk to the sous chef when I brought back my employment application. He also stressed, as I recall in a life and death manner, that I would need to write my availability on the application and that, once written, it could never be changed for any reason. No. I must have heard wrong, although the application did have spaces for available hours. Restaurants really must do things differently, since I thought schedules were made and updated at regular intervals to adapt to conditions - not fixed in stone on an employment application.

I returned two days later at the same time. "Darryl is our running errands. Nobody knows when he'll be back." Huh? This was my first hint that restaurant management is different that what I'd imagined. I would have thought that since this guy runs the kitchen, he'd give a return time.

Employment app in hand, I returned several days later. This time, I arrived around the beginning of service time, figuring that he would be there. He was. He was too busy to talk so I gave him the application, thanked him, and left scratching my head. If he was so busy, what was he doing at the front of the house talking to the hostess?

I returned yet again, only to find that he was again out of the restaurant. I left a note with my name and phone number on it with the hostess and departed without ever even meeting the sous chef.

I chalked it up to this being a new industry for me, and that things must just work differently. The restaurant is obviously successful, so this must all be business as usual.

I tend to look at employment apps like messages stuffed into bottles and cast into the river. Some may wash ashore where they'll be read and acted upon; others sink into the mud (the bottom of a drawer somewhere) and disappear forever. Check off one message cast into the eddying water, spinning slowly away in the current as it passed out of visibility in the murky, silt laden water.

By the way, the song on their web site is "Une Belle Histoire" originally by Michel Fugain. Their version is obviously not M. Fugain, and I have no idea who sings it except that she has an accent.

Looking for a job - a bit of history

Despite years of cooking experience, and classes at the Culinary Arts Program, I realized that having actual experience in a restaurant kitchen would be very useful. Especially to find out if I even like this kind of thing before opening a restaurant. So, my next few posts will be flashbacks...