The first story that catches my eye was about how a person was denied a position by a recruiter because she wanted to negotiate their salary.
What’s the problem?
At the height of my career as an Executive Chef, I was recruited by TGI Fridays to be their Corporate Chef down in Texas.
The recruiter I met with (at a Friday’s) was young, slick and looked very successful. HE recruited ME. I wan’t even looking, so I arrived early and looked at the telephone book (remember them?) that they were using on their menu. Even the cocktail appetizer menu was a book.
I was in a great bargaining position, and just for shits and giggles, I asked for DOUBLE what I was making as an opener.
He didn’t blink.
He responded with an offer triple my salary.
“All I ask is you earn it.”
I blinked.
His insistence I could NOT reduce the menu items and the obviously-ridiculous amount of inventory items required to do the current menu was the dealbreaker.
I remember back to the days where I was in positions of hiring and firing employees and I would never discount someone who wanted to negotiate the offered salary; to me, it told me they 1-had balls (male or female candidate), and 2-they possessed a sense of self-worth. Both of these were required to work for me. The third thing I looked for was if they possessed pride in workmanship. The fourth and final thing I checked for was if they played any team sports.
I could teach them every station in the kitchen, but I couldn’t give them attention to detail, their parents and grandparents did that, ensuring that EVERY SINGLE THING out of MY kitchen, from a chilled butter swirl to my various sorbets served between courses, elicited a visual, physical, or audio sign of “wow!”
It wasn’t a request; it was a condition for working with me in a starred Michelin French restaurant.
There was also a strict rule I had for the front of the house staff.
If they did not personally witness these positive reactions, I was to be called out to the guest table immediately, because we had, each and every one of us, failed.
Starting and ending with me.
Drama queen?
Perhaps a bit, but in my thirteen years as an Executive Chef, I was only called out to a table ONCE. And it wasn’t even a complaint; the table had requested me and I arrived in all my regalia, my white decorated chef coat and my medals gleaming in the dark dining room expecting the worst only to be told by two guests how great I was and would I please sit and share a bottle of Tattinger with them?
Since I was a raging alcoholic, it sounded like a good idea, especially since part of my job responsibilities were doing exactly this.
The one bottle turned into five, and I had the Chef Tournant close down the kitchen and prep for Sunday Brunch.
These are some of the reasons I still look back at that physically-demanding job with great fondness. Something about working with a clockwork crew putting out 4-star food to a full dining room with a two-hour wait. As crazy as that was, I loved it and still miss getting completely snowed under on a Saturday night.
I was always able to negotiate great contracts after I earned my bones as an Executive Chef in a major hotel-casino in Las Vegas. I preferred under-performing establishments with big upside so I could attach conditions to my salary. Where we had the capabilities and space, I would start catering operations up and always attached a per-head bonus which went directly to me, in addition to my added fees for ice carving and percentage of the net profits.
I only worked coastal boutique restaurants and fine dining restaurants and I only didn’t work when I didn’t want to.
Doesn’t seem like that now.
Stay well.
