Beat Jeremy Coon

New York Failure #4: Pure Food and Wine (Part One)

Acknowledgements: This will be the first in my series of posts on jobs I failed at or failed to get in New York.

Now that carrie.anne has been fired from pure food and wine, I can finally write the post I've been wanting to write for ages.

pure food and wine sucks! (Part One)

How would I know? I worked there for three days. Yes, Angelica Kitchen. You suspected it, and here's the public confession you've been dreading. I was spending time with another vegan restaurant. A raw one, potentially satisfying needs that you never could. But I was never going to leave you for it. And I didn't. And now I hate them, and anything that has to do with them. Besides carrie.anne, because she only used to work there. And Ron, because he's cool. So everything's forgiven, right? No, I'm telling you. It's forgiven.

It happened at the end of last year. I remember this, because I went to the pure food and wine Christmas party right before I was to start working. God, there were a lot of drunk raw food apologists at that Christmas party.

I really didn't mean to start working at another vegan restaurant. I'd decided that if I were ever to leave Angelica Kitchen, or even just cheat on it, there was no point in doing it with another restaurant. Why waste time looking for another food job when I already had the perfect one?

But carrie.anne, who worked at Pure Food (More like Schmure Schmood!) at the time, got to me at just the right second. I had cut my Angelica shifts down to three a week, and hadn't quite figured out for sure how I was going to make up for the lost money.

Originally, I thought I could use the time off to find a better paying job and work on my writing. And it seemed like it was paying off, because Peter wanted me to write for ScriptBuddy 10 hours a week, which would have fit into my new schedule perfectly.

But that wasn't starting for a few more weeks, and I was kind of worried about Christmas and Hanukkah debt. I could have requested more shifts at Angelica, but after all the work it took to trim them down, no way was I going to plead to Gary for the old schedule. Plus, I was afraid I might be getting sick of Angelica food, and variety seemed like a good idea.

"All right, carrie.anne. I'll work for your little restaurant," I said. "As long as I only have to work 2 days a week."

What terrible, fateful words!

I met with Rebecca, the kitchen manager type person. She seemed nice enough, but I noticed something ominous. She was sanpaku. Perhaps the most sanpaku person I'd ever seen, next to my friend Peter, who is diabetic.

Everyone knows what sanpaku means, right? We're all on the same page? Oh, alright, in case there are any strangers reading...

From The Skeptic's Dictionary.

Sanpaku is a Japanese term that literally means “three areas empty.” Some people believe that it is a sign of physical and spiritual imbalance if the white of the eye can be seen between the pupil and the lower lid as the subject looks forward.

Such a condition is called sanpaku and those afflicted with it are said to be recognizable by their "chronic fatigue, low sexual vitality, poor instinctive reactions, bad humor, inability to sleep soundly and lack of precision in thought and action." The cure is a macrobiotic diet.

I'm not macrobiotic, but if it weren't for always microwaving my food, I mostly would be. I have always been interested in a raw diet, though, and would ask all the food authorities I could about it.

When I was working at Casa de Luz, the macrobiotic restaurant in Austin, I once asked my fellow employee Steve for his take. He hated raw foodists, which surprised me. The only point of his I remember, kind of specious when you think about it, was that raw foodists tend to be bald. But he was bald!

I came to discover that macrobiotics and raw foods, even while being mostly vegan diets, were completely at odds with no overlap whatsoever. None. If it's raw, it's not macrobiotic. And if it's macrobiotic, it's not raw. Raw foodism, from a macrobiotic perspective, is even worse than a meat and potatoes type diet, because it's one of the most extreme diets of all. It's pure yin.

And I'm not even going to bother explaining that.

I'll just say that Rebecca being sanpaku fit the macrobiotic theory perfectly. And I should have bolted the moment I looked into her eyes.

I didn't, though, because there is something hypnotic about the eyes of one who is so spiritually and physically devastated. Their eyes are rolling into the back of their heads, like zombies. They're so young, yet look so close to death. They're halfway to heaven, yet seem to have their feet so firmly planted on earth. It's dangerous. It's thrilling. It's magnetic.

"I'll work here," I informed Rebecca. And she seemed happy. Little did I realize, she was man hungry. And I was just about to enter her inescapable, dehydrator-lined lair.

And so ends Part One! I wasn't going to end the post here originally, but then I got really lazy, yet still wanted the satisfaction of seeing something new up on Beat Jeremy Coon today. You'll get your precious Part 2 tomorrow. I promise.

I almost get sick of hearing this

You know what I hear all the time? THIS: "Rhys, you're really funny. You would be great at writing and editing for a humor Web site that features funny articles and videos, directed at the post-college male." Okay, okay, this was flattering at first, but does everyone I ever meet have to tell me this a hundred times? I get it!

Fear of the unknown yet soon to be known

Reading the staff manual for Angelica Kitchen was making me nervous... as would reading the staff manual of any place I was about to work. I always think that a job I haven't done before is going to be impossible. Which it is at that point, since I'm attempting to perform the job in my head before any training and without any context.

It's an elementary problem of "the seen and the unseen," and I can't believe I fall for it. I can see that the job is new, the system unfamiliar, and my duties vague and confusing. What I can't see is that I'll be changing in a short period of time to adapt to previously unimaginable circumstances. In job interviews, I always say (and believe), "I'm a fast learner." But for some reason, when I get the job and that first day approaches, I question my ability to make even the most basic finger movement. My position at Angelica's is "Phone Guy." The staff manual gave me this advice:

When answering the phone, be courteous and attentive. You will often be busy, but try not to let that affect the way you talk with customers on the phone. Practice grace under pressure. Remember that many callers are unfamiliar with Angelica [sic] - they will have questions.

Sounds simple enough. "But will I even be able to take the phone off its cradle," I wondered. "Much less say 'Good afternoon, Angelica Kitchen. May I help you?' Doubtful."

Well holy crap, my fears were unfounded. Sure, the job is a lot more complicated than the simple vegetable chopping, serving, and dish washing at Casa. Besides lifting the phone (easier in real life than in my head), answering questions and transferring calls, I have to prep salads, sandwiches, desserts, juices and all the meals for to-go containers. Most of the food is already cooked, but I have to remember portion sizes, ingredients, and what container to use for which item. And I've got to do it fast. It's like rocket science... except a lot more delicious! ("You did not just say that!" Oh yes I did!)

The downside is that since I'm only training, I'm not getting paid yet. At least not in cash; all the leftovers I smashed into my trusty old Casa take-out container had to add up to at least $60 on the Angelica menu: Seaweed, walnut pate, hummus, tempeh, three grain salad, a bunch of sauces, croquettes, a mini-croquette (which I accidentally stole from a customer... I thought we were closed!), pesto, a bunch of other sauces, and much, much more. Whenever I do the night shift (hopefully always), I'll be able to work on anything I want until 4 pm or so, go to work and eat before my shift, and after the shift take leftovers for the next day. Even better: most nights, I'll be getting home too late to party!

The first two steps of my plan (1. Move to Brooklyn. 2. Get a job at Angelica) - allegedly a recipe for artistic productivity - are accomplished. But this isn't an escalator. Will I stay on track? Will I make it to the top? Stay tuned!