Cooks don't make a lot of money. Bakers don't either. And even if you climb the ranks, for the amount of hours you'll put in as a Chef, you are SOL.
Why, then, invest at all in the hospitality industry? Because this will be an industry that always provides challenging employment. Judy Rodgers, of Zuni fame, told one author recently, "...there are so many restaurants right now that are serious and trying hard... If you're hardworking and talented, you're never going to have trouble finding a job."*
Not to mention, our delicious food gives those with a bit of disposable income an excuse to spend it. That money will most likely stay in the city, too.
Easy employment and local, entrepreneurial spirit. That puts wheels on this economy, right? Hell yeah.
The San Francisco Baking Institute has encountered some red tape in renewing its business license. The state has ordered them to stop the private, post-secondary education they specialize in, effective immediately.
I know from watching my peers that the SFBI has trained incredibly talented industry professionals. Based on this, they have built a reputation so outstanding that they've attracted talent from outside of the US. The SFBI is an integral part of our culinary landscape in the Bay Area.
So please, sign this petition to keep the SFBI open.
We're not the best paid workers, but hospitality people are incredibly productive. And if we step in through community college, or an ad on Craigslist, we've invested a relatively small amount of money to begin building a wealth of talent. And places like the SFBI -- who actually pay their interns, by the by -- are a part of this success. So support them!
*Quoted from Skirt Steak: Women chefs on standing the heat and staying in the kitchen. By Charlotte Druckman.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Show your love
I deleted the last entry, wherein I cried about a bad gig. I read it a second time, lucid and awake, made a face and produced some sort of interesting noise of disapproval. Then sent it into cyberspace to rot.
Today, I received some very interesting feedback from my now former Chef (Yes, my internship is done! More on this later.). All marks were high, but there was a caveat.
Apparently, I'm too dour, sometimes. It's not a huge problem, but going forward, I need to know this is my Achilles' heel. I should never tell people I'm tired; I should act as confident as my knowledge makes me.
I was initially miffed. I never wanted to give the impression that I didn't want to be at the restaurant that I had fallen in love with... wait, initially? No, I am still really miffed. Because the hard work I put in at this restaurant, and the amount of extra hours I committed to this place, required fire and passion. Were my extra hours not demonstrative of this love? How could they not see that? I wanted to give my bosses only the very best, and if that didn't come across, then I was disappointed.
...with myself.
Because I had received this criticism before. Obviously, I wasn't doing something right.
There's some sort of disconnect between my emotions and the rest of the world. I am so happy with my decision to become a cook, I am so happy I finished such an amazing internship, I love what I do.
But that really doesn't matter. Here's the general career lesson: not only should you actually enjoy what you're doing, but all of your positive emotions should be visible. It's simple: being around someone who is obviously positive (maybe not to the Pollyanna extent) is enjoyable. It isn't complicated; you don't have to dig for their emotions (like you do with me), and you don't have to handle them with kid gloves because you just don't know what's up in their head.
When I re-read that entry last week about our event gone south, it felt really icky. I wanted to be honest, but I also wanted this blog to be positive. Taking a catering job, I know to expect some strange events and hard days. But its all about how you look at it: was that a terrible fucking day, or a 12-hour learning experience? By any novice's standards, that should be a 12-hour learning experience. And it was -- so that's why I deleted an obviously negative post.
And it felt pretty awesome. To work through something so crummy and come out with helpful insight. I do it more often than I think, and more often than I show.
I'm an INTJ -- a pretty on-point description provided by the Myers-Briggs personality test. If you follow this sort of thing, then you might understand why these problems are fairly INTJ-specific.
Oh, wait, what did I say? It doesn't matter.
I am so deeply in love with what I do, but I shouldn't have to explain that. No one should be forced to explain something so important and complicated as love. So show it.
Today, I received some very interesting feedback from my now former Chef (Yes, my internship is done! More on this later.). All marks were high, but there was a caveat.
Apparently, I'm too dour, sometimes. It's not a huge problem, but going forward, I need to know this is my Achilles' heel. I should never tell people I'm tired; I should act as confident as my knowledge makes me.
I was initially miffed. I never wanted to give the impression that I didn't want to be at the restaurant that I had fallen in love with... wait, initially? No, I am still really miffed. Because the hard work I put in at this restaurant, and the amount of extra hours I committed to this place, required fire and passion. Were my extra hours not demonstrative of this love? How could they not see that? I wanted to give my bosses only the very best, and if that didn't come across, then I was disappointed.
...with myself.
Because I had received this criticism before. Obviously, I wasn't doing something right.
There's some sort of disconnect between my emotions and the rest of the world. I am so happy with my decision to become a cook, I am so happy I finished such an amazing internship, I love what I do.
But that really doesn't matter. Here's the general career lesson: not only should you actually enjoy what you're doing, but all of your positive emotions should be visible. It's simple: being around someone who is obviously positive (maybe not to the Pollyanna extent) is enjoyable. It isn't complicated; you don't have to dig for their emotions (like you do with me), and you don't have to handle them with kid gloves because you just don't know what's up in their head.
When I re-read that entry last week about our event gone south, it felt really icky. I wanted to be honest, but I also wanted this blog to be positive. Taking a catering job, I know to expect some strange events and hard days. But its all about how you look at it: was that a terrible fucking day, or a 12-hour learning experience? By any novice's standards, that should be a 12-hour learning experience. And it was -- so that's why I deleted an obviously negative post.
And it felt pretty awesome. To work through something so crummy and come out with helpful insight. I do it more often than I think, and more often than I show.
I'm an INTJ -- a pretty on-point description provided by the Myers-Briggs personality test. If you follow this sort of thing, then you might understand why these problems are fairly INTJ-specific.
Oh, wait, what did I say? It doesn't matter.
I am so deeply in love with what I do, but I shouldn't have to explain that. No one should be forced to explain something so important and complicated as love. So show it.
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