Java-House Jack Strikes Back!

BLOGGING ABOUT WHATEVER

ENTRY - 19

TITLE: Java-House Jack Strikes Back!

AUTHOR: J. William Bell

DATE POSTED: 2026-02-01

Just when I thought Jack had run out of material for this blog, he goes and brings me one last harrumph! My disgruntled friend in the Foodservice and Hospitality Industry has decided to put together a list of the most frustrating customers and co-workers he has ever had the displeasure of interacting with (and now it is my displeasure to edit his words into something that I can, in good conscience, post into this blog... pray for me).

From this point on, brace yourself for Jack's paraphrased words (and Jack knows what he can kiss and how often if he doesn't like the paraphrasing):

"To begin with: Customers who are patient, polite, and know what the frak they want are sometimes rare. Cherish them.

Also; a boss who doesn't treat you like trash and gives a fig about you can be a very rare thing in the Foodservice and Hospitality Industry, stick to them as long as they are worthy of your loyalty. If they're not, handle it like a professional: Update your resume, arrange to meet some potential employers on your days off, talk about your frustrations with folks who actually care about you (and can be discreet); and if its really necessary, collect evidence, figure out which co-workers can provide damaging depositions/testimony, change jobs; and then hire a lawyer.

Bullies only keep on being bullies until they get caught (and maybe also accidentally fall down the stairs-- more than once).

For what should be obvious reasons, I'm not going to be telling you the names of the aggravating customers/co-workers/bosses I have had the misfortune of getting to know. I will be giving them unflattering nicknames whenever I can, because, even small-scale revenge can be sweet.

THE ANTI-CABBAGE-ISTS

At this one restaurant I worked at as the Prep & Pantry Cook; it was my job to make salads to order, as well as desserts, and to my personal delight: Pizza. While working this job, I realized one of the many facts you have to accept in the hospitality industry; that fact being that a fussy customer is inevitable. On a bad day/night on the job, all of your customers might be fussy customers. I began to really hate Tuesday nights especially at this job, because every Tuesday night this married couple who looked like stereotypical trailer-trash came into the place, and they always ordered the garden salad-- with the specific instruction that it got made without cabbage. Normally, this would be a reasonable request; but, most of the salad ingredients came pre-mixed and bagged, and guess what? The garden salad pre-mix was a blend of carrots and cabbage. So, every time these Anti-Cabbage-ists came into the place; somebody was going to get stuck with the crap-job of literally separating very small pieces of shredded carrot from shredded cabbage, just to satisfy a paying customer. Myself and most of my co-workers at this restaurant quietly hoped that one or both of them would choke to death!

BEECHZILLA

One of the facts of life that really broke my heart after I graduated from high-school was the realization that no matter how old you get or where you go; you are inevitably going to run into a bully. And bullies come in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colours; there is no one standard model. The Beechzilla was distinctive in the following ways: Everything you did was presumed to be wrong; if you were a man over the age of 30, everything you did was presumed to be extra wrong; if you openly disagreed with her, and were objectively correct, and were not in the habit of performing figurative fellatio upon her ego while in the view of your co-workers and the customers, and a man, you were by default--wrong! She was one of those bullies who ingratiated herself with the boss/owner early on in her career, and by virtue of steady attendance and a small amount of competence, had worked her way up to middle-management and made herself more useful than troublesome. Despite all of these positives; the restaurant she managed had trouble keeping male staff over the age of 20. Everybody who could get away from her, did, as soon as possible.

CHEF 90-POUNDS

Some people really do get short-changed by genetics and puberty; it is not a perfect system. And the puberty fairy was very stingy indeed with Chef 90-Pounds, an ex-boss of mine that I was very glad to quit. This guy might have been on the track team of his high-school back in the day; as a third-string waterboy/equipment-manager. I am not exaggerating when I describe this guy as skinny and with a masculine voice that probably only got its mild bass quality sometime after his 25th birthday. He could've also been mistaken for a giant weasel, based upon his physicality... Now sometimes, when somebody has to live as a runt, they develop a humble personality; but not this guy. Somehow, he discovered and developed a natural and gourmet-level talent when it came to cooking, and he decided to milk that for all that it was worth! His food was delicious, I must admit, but his attitude and personality were profoundly unpleasant. He knew he was in charge, and he liked to remind you that he was in charge. He played the whole stereotypical bossy and tyrannical chef routine up to the highest level. Because he was the head chef, and a senior business partner in the restaurant, his word was supposed to be treated like unto a god's. If I had to pick a pagan god to compare him to; I'd say he was the minor god of arrogance, narcissism and sour attitudes. If he ends up in Hell, he'll probably be spit-roasted and fed to glutton demons for all of eternity.

POT-SMUGGLER

Not every disappointing co-worker you meet in the restaurant business is someone who has authority over you. Sometimes, they are someone who just keeps on letting you down. I refer to this guy as the Pot-Smuggler because he was a teenager who got hired as a dishwasher at this one restaurant I worked at where he barely lasted a week, because; he thought he could hide dirty pots and pans near the end of his shift, so he would not have to wash them. The majority of the menu in this place was medditeranean-style food, so we needed a lot of pots and pans of all sizes available as soon as possible during business hours. A good dishwasher sets and maintains the pace of a commercial kitchen-- and this kid didn't do that. I can only hope that he smartened up with age and experience.

WANNABEE TELEPATH

Little Ms. Wannabee Telepath was a junior manager/supervisor at this one restaurant I worked at. Until you got to know her professionally, you'd assume that she was a decent lady. But apparently her seniority stopped at a much lower level than she preferred. Because I was only working in this place as a dishwasher, I got stuck on a lot of late-night closing shifts with W-T, and I found out quickly/painfully that she liked to make other people feel stupid. I don't know if she did it because she was physically shorter than most of the other staff. I don't know if she did it because she liked to pretend that she was an aristocrat; she certainly liked to dress like the modern-day version of one. All I know for certain is if you didn't think like she did, and if you didn't make decisions like she did, and if you didn't figure out her unspoken instructions as quickly as she desired; you were an inferior who did not deserve to be treated with basic human dignity and respect. The only other things for certain that I know about her is that she liked to drive a fancy/expensive car that matched well with her fancy/expensive/stylish clothing; she also had a kid; a little boy who would be about 7 years old or younger during the times I interacted with him. I felt sorry for that kid. He was probably going to need a lot of therapy before his 30th birthday... I know from personal experience that you can drive yourself crazy; shortly after realizing what character flaws your parents have, and that you might've inherited.

P.T.S. DOOSHBAGG

At this other restaurant where I worked as a host/waiter/cashier, I had the misfortune of dealing with a regular customer who showed obvious signs of emotional disturbance, and the emotional maturity of an 11-year-old girl. This guy obviously had a rough job, very stressful, and he carried that stress with him everywhere. Truthfully: I used to feel sorry for him (and in those brief moments where my conscience has absolute authority, I still do). One day; he comes in and places his usual order with all of the intricate instructions that he expects the person in the uniform/name-tag to do without confusion or question. What he didn't realize was that he was more stressed out than usual, and apparently I performed the cardinal sin of asking him to repeat himself. He grumbled that he came in here every day and made the same order, it should be obvious what it is. What I wanted to tell him was that it is way easier to take somebody's order when they take a moment to calm themselves down, and talk like somebody who has not just witnessed a car crash. Instead; I was silent, and he let out a roar like a wounded beast, then stomped out of the place. After that, he refused to let me take his order. He didn't care if he was being inconvenient to everybody else; he's a big guy and he could look scary, and he thought his damage gave him a license to act like a big baby. Yes, a certain amount of mercy and courtesy is necessary to help people like this; but a big cold dose of the truth, and maybe also a haymaker to the face, might be more helpful. If he's lucky, he'll never interact with me ever again.

THE BEAN COUNTER

Sometimes, the wrong kind of person gets to be in charge of a restaurant; and you have the misfortune of working under them. I call this pseudo-lady The Bean Counter because she was an accountant that worked for an investment firm; which her family owned. She didn't work her way up to her position of authority, she bought it; or more accurately: Her Husband's family bought it for her, and let her be in charge of it. I don't know what it is with some men; I never met Mr. Bean Counter, but my older co-workers told me that the place was under better management when he had been in charge. Apparently, the guy was a "people-person,"-- His Wife, who was unfortunately also my boss at the time, was a very cold, passive-aggressive, backstabbing little dictator! She did not work out her differences with you if you crossed her, she just cut back your hours. If you were not one of her favorites; abandon all hope of ever getting a raise. And because she was a Mistress of Mathematics, Commercial Kitchen Logistics were completely foreign to her!! She really didn't like it when you said "no," to her; and then went on to explain indisputable facts about the indisputable physical and chemical laws of the universe, which made her demands/instructions unobtainable!!! Maybe she was a genius in the bedroom, or she came with an impressive dowry which let her Husband bat a blind eye to her subtle-yet-profound character flaws. The day on the job where she demanded that I demonstrate that the amount of meat I was putting into a recipe was the correct amount, by way of the use of a scale, more than once; was the day I realized that I was going to have to be as professional as possible, and get the frak away from her!!!!!"

Jack assures me that he won't be providing me with any more material like this in the future. But he does like to use me as a sounding-board/captive-audience for his opinions on all sorts of subjects. I suspect Jack will find something else to share with us in a future blog post. I'll try not to be dreading it.

Excelsior!