Things Not to Say to Your Line Cook

The Wine and Food Festival is over, the weather is beautiful and I am back to work full-time at the cafe, which means the buffalo chicken moments are picking up again. The Tuesday shift was uneventful except for an unfortunate couple that remained convinced (even after a polite correction) that they properly ordered a "panari." Of course, my mind so influenced by cartoons as a child, went directly to images of a hybrid grilled sandwich/canary that spoke like Tweety Bird. Boy I wish I was more familiar with PhotoShop.

Today was a different story. Wednesday lunch service is always more eventful than other weekdays for reasons my confidentiality clause will not allow me to divulge. Needless to say, my delightful regular customers are augmented by tourists, elderly patrons looking for a bargain, and the occasional non-working parent with children a bit too young for school. I know what you're thinking - recipe for frustration. You're right. And while I like a busy line, working at a quick clip, I find myself wishing against wish, hoping against hope, that these Wednesday patrons could keep their comments to themselves and let me enjoy my service. Here are a few examples of things I don't want to hear from customers on a busy day:

• "Well hello David!" and you may substitute any other greeting that includes my name. Seems like I'm being pretty cold, right? Wrong. Just because I wear a name tag doesn't mean that you know me personally. I am happy that my regulars know and use my name. They've earned it. But don't think that correctly reading my name tag entitles you to a personal exchange, especially when I'm busy.
• "Wow, it looks like you could use an extra set of arms!" Really? Well I think you could use a little common sense. If I'm working so hard that I could use an extra set of arms, do you really think I have time to listen to witless banter, let alone participate? Here's the thing. A customer may say things like this in appreciation of my speed or effort, but it always sounds like an insult. Just like when I hear people say...
• "I can't believe you're out here all alone. You could use another person." Thanks. Actually, I feel pretty good about serving nine people at once, each with multiple items in their order, that I am able to keep organized and serve hot together. Besides, the greatest impediment to fast service is any among the follow: customers not moving down the line, ordering food item by item, taking another customers food instead of one's own, and forcing the line cook to engage in that witless banter when s/he is clearly trying to bust through some orders.
• "Oh, you mean the panani is a sandwich? I thought it was ____ (insert embarrassingly incorrect food item here)." Where do I begin? We've already been over my issues with sandwich mispronouncitation. My biggest issue here? If you don't know what a word or menu item is, ask before ordering. Don't wait the three minutes I take to cook the food only to stop me when I want to move on to customers that have waited patiently for my attention. Questions come before ordering, not after.

I recognize that some of my issues might seem unreasonable but know this: cooks are prideful  attention-mongers that like the thrill of working quickly, but we will never feel good about unreasonable wait times. We need to work with customers to make sure food gets out hot and fast and we need customer assistance to get that job done. Minimizing the not-so-supportive chit chat is a great way to help.

Knowing what one just ordered also helps. And asking reasonable questions early in the process is the way to speed things along. My total lack of knowledge about food can fill hundreds of books but I always ask questions quickly before ordering. That's how I learn and make things easier for the cooks at the same time.

Pun Fun

It was a slow day for buffalo chicken moments - good for my patience but bad for the blog. Sure, I dealt with my fair share of surly elderly customers but that comes with the territory, especially on Wednesdays and Fridays. But really, things moved smoothly. I worked the line alone, had a few fun rushes, and saw a dozen of my favorite customers.

On days like this - a bit slow if not manageable and me maintaining a good mood - I take delight in one of my favorite linguistic exercises... punning. Here are a few of my favorite puns of the day.

• With Cuban Black Bean Soup on the menu, I eagerly waited for the handful of customers who requested a "small black bean." Of course I knew what they wanted, but what they got was a small soup cup with a single black bean sitting at the bottom of the cup.
• Between the temperate weather and a TGIF attitude, more than a few customers treated this day as a burger and fries day. My favorite game? When a customer requests a fry or a small fry. Once again, I know what they want. What do they get? A single french fry, size determined by their modifier.
• Outside the bounds of a pun, I also have fun with passive aggressive questions. Here are a few examples: do you have a paper plate? Do you know what's in this sandwich? Do you know the soup of the day? I heard all three of these questions today. My answer? "Yes." And then I walk away.

I know I'm pushing my luck, but, especially on slow days, I really must keep myself entertained.

Speaking of being entertained, my colleagues and I sometimes find a few laughs in the expectations of our customers. Our standards are remarkably high for a cafe - we keep things fresh and prepared by expert cooks. But today, one of my colleagues was amused by a customer's question about whether or not our burgers are from grass fed cows. Sorry, folks, this isn't Per Se. I understand that the customer really wanted to know if the meat was organic, which is an easier question to field (pun intended, of course). But we aren't going to know that level of minutia. Likewise, I received a question about whether or not our salmon was caught in the last two days. We use very high quality product, but please

Your Food is Cold? Your Own Damn Fault!

Taking a single step before the next is a perfectly reasonable strategy in many facets of life. It works well with walking, that's for sure. Fixing a car and following recipes... great idea. But ordering food step-by-step is not only a recipe for receiving a cold meal, it might also attract a violent reaction from your barista or, in my case, line cook. Let me explain.

Contrary to popular myth (and all of you customer and food service pros can back me up in the comments section), the people that serve your food are not idiots. Their brain capacities exceed that of gnats. Many of them can even spell gnat without looking it up in a dictionary. In fact, it is not an exaggeration to say that cooks and waitstaff (but not banquet staff - whole different thing there) possess a very special kind of genius that civilians simply don't understand. A mental capacity for retaining strings of information delivered under sometimes grueling (pun intended) circumstances and translating that information into a hot meal to be enjoyed by all. The only thing that can get in your cook's or server's way is a customer that simply cannot keep up with the pace or, even worse, insists on ordering food item by item by item ad nauseum. I am not exaggerating when I say that item-by-item customers fill me with a fury that boils as hot as the water in my steam trays. We're talking cartoon steam coming out of my ears.

Why is this a problem? Let's start with my top three reasons:

1. Just like a car doesn't like going from 60 mph to 25 mph, neither does a line cook who actually takes pride in working at a breakneck pace. Grinding to a halt to take and prepare an order is physically uncomfortable.

2. It makes your food cold. Now this bothers me for two reasons. First, I actually care about the product that I send out. All cooks do - in spite of everything, we are prideful people and our food matters. The more significant reason, however, is that customers often complain to managers about cold food, even when they caused the temporal drop. There is nothing quite so punishing as being held responsible for an item-by-item customer's shortcomings.

3. Many customers order item-by-item because they presume that's the most I can handle. That presumption is insulting. Offer the benefit of the doubt that the line cook or server can keep up and, if proven otherwise, hold the person accountable. But do not act like I need a sock puppet show to understand something as simple as an order that I have probably heard before.

This experience is pretty common. My inspiration for the entry on my last night off before the new work week came during a visit to Dunkin' Donuts on my way home from the City. I stood behind a young man, probably a local college student, who waited about four minutes to receive a nice hot order of hash brown bites (they are delicious). The line attendant walked to the register only to receive a follow-up order for hot chocolate and, I kid you not, I could see in her eyes the desire to leap across the counter and shred the customer like a carrot. Funny, I felt the same thing. I didn't want to wait to order my hash browns!

Take Off the Blinders... A World of Trays Awaits!

Cue creepy horror flick music

An unsettling phenomenon is sweeping through the cafe. Like a disease with multiple hosts, it travels on tour buses and in cars, through the MTA and Metro North. It may not be Bubonic but it is a plague… on my patience. Yes, I'm writing about patron tunnel vision.

Patron tunnel vision refers to the inability of some guests, possibly a bit overwhelmed by the menu, our charming decor, that handsome fella standing behind the line, to survey their environment and use that information to their advantage. Okay, I know I'm overwriting but hang with me.

We all know that ordering food takes more than skilled chefs and an appetite. In a cafe setting, it requires silverware, trays, cups, straws, a cashier… you get the idea. And every cafe worth its salt is organized with ease of dining in mind. For example, before a customer can reach my line, s/he must walk past a rack with trays and silverware, a soda fountain, cold beverage cooler, and a display with sandwiches and desserts. So why do I have so many customers make it to the line without any of these essentials? Immediately in front of the entrance are two checkout lines with POS system, desserts, and salty treats. So why do I have so many customers offer me money for their food?

This is a clear case of tunnel vision (the inability to see beyond the center field of vision). Sidebar: I remember the first time I wore contact lenses, the thrill of having sharp peripheral vision again, or maybe for the first time. I don't know why anyone would ever give up their peripherals - they're a gift and oh so useful when purchasing multiple food items.

So how does this play out? Here are a couple examples of a tunnel vision situation and my often snarky reaction.

Scenario 1: The Food Offering

Today, a single patron silently placed his sandwich, beverage and side salad on the counter at the back end of my line. He seemed so earnest in expecting me to ring him up but the question remained… with what? My response: "No thank you, sir. I'm not hungry quite yet. But if you would like to purchase these items, I recommend visiting the cashier."

Scenario 2: The Money Offering

A couple days ago, two separate customers offered me payment for their food. The first asked, "Can I give you money for this?" My response, "You can but you would still have to pay the cashier behind you."

The second customer spoke not a single word, instead waving a $20 in my direction. Already frustrated, I pointed to the cashier with the thought bubble "Wow, $20 and I didn't even have to climb the pole."

Scenario 3: The Cantankerous Tray-less Wonder

The cantankerous tray-less wonder is usually an elderly patron or an adult leading a group of children, someone who orders more food than can reasonably be carried in two hands, and has a tendency to make ridiculous demands based on ridiculous expectations. For example, this patron expects that I have a stash of trays hiding underneath my line, which might be a good idea if I want to corner the market and charge people per tray, but something tells me I would soon move from cafe line to unemployment line.

This charming individual can't request a tray without either snarling like a junkyard dog or whimpering like a neglected puppy. How many times have customers barked at me "I want a tray! You don't have any trays! Where are the trays?!" Again, I only ever point them in the right direction. But my favorite was last week when an overwhelmed customer exclaimed in a most passive aggressive way, "Well, I think I'll have to take multiple trips because I can't find any trays anywhere. it's really unfortunate but I'll make it work. My response, " Try right behind you."