A twenty-seven year old woodworking teacher in Missouri was arrested for having sex with a sixteen year old student. Her picture is not horrible, and I am sure with a ton of makeup, a push-up bra, and the right conditions, she could be every horny sixteen year-old’s dream girl.
To all his buddies he is The Man.
So why isn’t she trolling bars and clubs for men her own age?
(Karen just told me I am a pig and thumped me on my head).
Quit fucking around and send the tanks already.
I loved the food service industry and the heights I achieved therein for over three decades. I am wondering. What happened to the great fine dining establishments in our country? I remember being taught the perennial standards of fine dining such as Ernie’s in San Francisco, Boston’s Pier 4, and Bookbinder’s in Philadelphia.
Now, the standards have been, lowered, compromised, bastardized, call it whatever you want, but in a time where anyone with good hair, a winning smile, and minimal understanding of what fine food is all about, can rise to a status of unearned mastery.
In some of the bigger kitchens I was responsible for, the politics were more of a pain-in-the-ass than anything. Not too bad in union houses because the Steward was the one who had to put up with the shit, not me.
That is why, after I attained a certain notoriety for making money wherever I was the Executive Chef, I had an easy time of it. Not because I made money, but because I made money for my owners (which allowed me to make money). It was at that time I became a contract player and was able to negotiate some great contracts before I retired, most of them in resort locations.
The smartest move I made was inserting two clauses in my agreement. The first was for unused vacation time which ensured I was well-compensated for the unused vacation time which was always a generous amount. No matter how great my staff was trained, no matter how excellent my sous chef, no matter how seamlessly I had the back of the house running, I never had one owner who wanted me to leave for any extended time from the restaurant. They each gladly paid the overcharge in my contract to keep me there.
The second was a catering/wedding clause which paid me a per person surcharge as well as a percentage of net sales which acted to spur me on to two large wedding events per quarter.
I really enjoyed Sunday brunch, because I would have everything ready to go for my sous chefs before downing a pint of VO Canadian whiskey, bundling up, and cutting ice for the next six hours.
I would emerge with the carvings, meet with the chefs, and supervise the first seating of Sunday brunch.
By 9AM I was toast, and satisfied another award-winning brunch was in the books, so I would head to home, reportedly, but probably most likely went to another bar in Santa Barbara.