You knew this was coming. I did as well.
Try as I might, study the menu, work faster, smarter, or slower, more cautious, it wasn't working. There was no way it could work.
The week before, turning, my back twists, lower back. Sunday, barely unable to get out of bed. Monday, very slightly recovered.
The job, nothing but stress and anxiety, you see it in the mannerisms of those who've somehow managed to fit in, the swish, swagger, effeminate manners - even affected by the straight lads, the "stoop" - shoulders hunched - the physical symptoms of having being "broken", the "Knowing" of the menu - that this morsel has 3 bites, this tid-bit has 4, the continual reprimands - about offenses you see everyone around you committing - wine glass - filled too high - not high enough - the constant querying of the Chef, because under no circumstances do you promise anything to the customer that he has not approved - and - when not reprimanding you he reprimands others in your presence - for filling your shot glass too full, for answering a question...
It's feudal - this - the managers, Chef, eat at a common table, many courses, dirty plates left for the servers to clean, to see how "the other half" eats.
Contrast this with your overcooked pasta in oil, and the same bloody salad day after day.
So, after another intolerably long night of perpetual reprimands and bitchy behaviors I'm done. Chef agrees.
He's a short man, who - through a triumph of will has realized his every ambition, but - this with everyone that has served being squashed underfoot. It's feudalism, he will accept you as a subject - but you must accept him as your Lord, these are not human relationships, or like none that I am familiar with.
I have never hated a job so much in my life, or been so relieved to escape.
But now, what next?
We will see.