After sending a carryout through, I left the sanctuary of my bar for the war zone of what I know as the kitchen.
"Kitchen" at The Valley is defined as, "A place you are prone to dodging a constant barrage of foul-sounding Lebanese words, pots, pans, and Mama herself." Ridiculous.
With agility, I wrapped up my order. Hummus here. Pita there. Silverware. Pickles. Pickles, for a pregnant woman with a craving, mind you. Now, pickles at our restaurant, are like turnips. Ask and you shall receive. We don't-- I'm sorry-- we have never charged nor set a price for the item.
I take a few, a "tong-full" if you must, and place it in a carryout container. Before I could even close the box, Mama swooped in like a bat out of hell.
Furious, she was spitting out words faster than I could possibly comprehend. "What is this?!"
I blinked at her stupidly. "Uh...pickles?" Not that I had to state the obvious but apparently I did. They are the pickles you find in a shawarma wrap. If I can explain this further, they are whole pickles that came out of a can of plenty of other of pickles, which are then sliced into 7 and 8 strips lengthwise. I had put maybe 2 whole pickles in container, absolute maximum.
Mama went bat-shit. Tried grabbing the container from me. Tried dumping the pickles back into their prior home. "This is fucked up man! You charge if you want give free food! We charge!"
I had no problem with that. Problem solved. "Okay, how much am I charging her?"
"Six dollars, man!"
Are you screwing with me right now? Six whole dollars for shreds of pickles. Six dollars is what we charge people who order the olives and turnips appetizer-- which, if you eat where I work, don't order that. You have no idea whatsoever the kind of container those are kept in, and how they are stored. Uncovered most of the time for their shelf-life...and by "shelf-life" I mean, we do not throw anything away.
What do I do? I grab more pickles and throw them in the box. If I am charging someone six bucks for a measly few pickles, you better bet your ass they will get enough to call it six dollars' worth.
Something told me, maybe it was Mama's reaction, that putting more into the box was the wrong move. I had added an accelerant to the fire. She screamed and ran. She ran, right to Wulf. Just my luck.
This had been the second time in a week that Mama had pulled this kind of stunt. Mama didn't get her way, the alligator tears come out, I get pulled aside and talked to. Again. Rinse, cycle, repeat.
Princess Serena pulled me aside to talk to me the first instance. This time, it was the group as a whole.She eyed each and every one of us, little soldiers in her army...little minions, a small force to be reckoned with as without us, the restaurant could not function.
"You all know how Mama is. She's older. She works hard. She's over-sensitive."
I don't give a damn. Over-sensitive, my ass. I have to put up with being constantly called out for trivial matters-- things that shouldn't matter. Thrown under the bus yet again. I'm tired of it. If Mama is the reason why workers constantly quit, why we can't keep new hires, is unsanitary time after time...don't you think you should reassess her? I didn't learn much in my math classes over the years, but I do understand there being a common denominator, and she is one. Fix it. Do something about it.
What was the solution to the problem? We will now be charging guests... for everything. You want another ramekin of ketchup because the first one was only 3/4 full? I'm sorry, there will be a fee for that. You want more pita? More lettuce leaves? Any lettuce leaves because pita already came with it? Fee with that too. You'd like a few measly pickles? We'll charge you 2 dollars for a measly six slices. A few skimpy jalapenos added to that skewer? 3 dollars. I'm sorry, you would like a refill for the coca-cola you had because it was loaded with ice? We don't have a refill charge but we will more than happily charge you for an entire second glass.
I hope guests have a problem with this. I actually hope they make a commotion over it. Sure, it's a charge here and there, but things add up. Everything does-- everything but this nonsense. It just doesn't make sense to irritate people-- regulars-- who have been supporting the restaurant for years upon years over a second ramekin of sauce, a leaf of lettuce, a dollop of hummus. Who shit in your Wheaties?
Save up your silver, ladies and gentlemen, you are about to be nickel and dimed.
--Malia Etienette
