Maybe I Need a Cubicle Job

Quote of the Day: "This is a... fuck!"
-Samir, Office Space

We all have one of those type of bosses that likes to knock us around simply to illustrate their authoritative position.

Today, our district manager showed up at the restaurant for our "inspection," a monthly event in which he bitches about whatever he can--like the wrong size spoon in the roasted garlic, which happens to be a tablespoon (as it says in our recipe books), and yet he insists that it needs to be a teaspoon. So he pretends that his DM title makes him the expert chef, and then he has us make him a mac and cheese that he proceeds to smother in ketchup.

At one point, he pulled me off the line to berate me for not putting the pickle in the correct position on the plate, which is not only downright silly, but also completely moot--our menu is completely changing in a week. But whatever, he's the man in charge, and I guess that's how it is. I just love how he pretends that nobody can see through his nonsensical corporate facade as he strolls through our kitchen (not his kitchen--that line belongs to the cooks that have made it their second home). He can turn is nose up and float around with that smug swagger and in his condescending way he can dwell on a fucking pickle spear, and I can rest easy knowing that, though I may not place that stupid pickle on the correct portion of the plate, I don't smother everything in ketchup. He the district manager for rapidly growing chain of restaurants, and yet whenever he stops by he can't think of anything else to order but a mac and cheese? Is he four years old?

Maybe I'm being too judgmental. Maybe I should have gotten more than two hours sleep last night. Or maybe he should've just fixed the damned pickle and let it go. But whatever. Again, in the words of Mr. Vonnegut: And so it goes.