I knew that I had to make my next move. I was living in Loser-town and it was not a happy place.
Jeri-rigged combination hand sink, paper towel holder and cutting board rack.....sigh.
While I was still making the donuts, getting yelled at by the pizza guy and dumped on by Chef V, out of the blue an opportunity rose.
Over the past couple of years I had become close with another chef instructor from the first school that I'd taught at, and been fired from. ( See post, Mean Girls Part II or The Devil Wears Chef Pants. Part of our bond was having a mutual torturer, but the she-demon was long gone now and my friend had managed to survive the many changes in management since. In fact my friend had encouraged the new regime to revisit my performance as an instructor and the possibility of letting me come back. This felt like nothing short of a miracle.
As soon as Chef V had stepped foot into the place, I was outta there to get to my interview at school. It just so happened that there had been a major water pipe burst in the one hundred year old building downtown where the school is located, so classes had been cancelled and there were no elevators running either.
I walked into the lobby for the first time in three years, since that sad, rainy November day with all of my stuff in boxes after the unmerciful hatchet job they did on me.
I looked at the stairs and started my ascent up eleven flights.
All of those days of running up and down the stairs at the shitbag cafe had paid off. I paced myself and just kept going. I was reminded of those last three years of going to interviews, taking any job and talking to anyone who might be a lead. Fact was in those years I had learned a hell of a lot and met new people. To get anywhere, you must keep on going. One foot, then the other.
Now as I approached the last landing before 11, I had come full circle. I was coming home.
They hired me part time to teach an evening class. That was the same way that I had started just five years before. It was going to be killer, doing my long day at the cafe and then running over to teach my class from 6:30-10:30. I did not care, I was determined to do it.
I told Chef V about my plans and perhaps we could discuss cutting back my hours and thus my salary. I had said many times to him and Mrs. Chef V that I knew that they couldn't afford me. I was willing to work with them and promised that I would never leave them in the lurch. He scrunched up his little sour face and said that they had been thinking of putting me on at nights now so it could be a problem but they would think about it.
The first night of class was so comfortable, like truly stepping back into your most favorite pair of shoes and finding that they still fit. The chef's office was basically the same, still run down and loaded with everyone's stuff. I thought that I would feel sad and miss my old compadres who had suffered the same fate as I had by the she-demon. Strangely enough, it was ok. It was virtually a new staff since my days (my friend taught in the mornings, so we only met in passing). The new people were nice and I had a great class. The new boss was ok- he was not brilliant but he wasn't evil either.
I decided that I would turn over a new leaf with this second chance. I would not participate in the bitch sessions or gossip. I would do my job, concentrate on becoming a better teacher and remain positive.
A week later, after another long and crazy day full of drama and stupid-stuff when Chef V came in to work he asked me to come into the "office" (the back apartment with all of the hoarder crap all over the floors). When I got there, he asked his sister to come into the room too, as he needed a witness. And just like that he said,
"So we've decided that this little experiment of our is not working out", and I was let go.
He handed me a wad of cash along with my last paycheck. I walked out of there to get to class with a new-found spring in my step. With each step I took, it soaked in a bit more. I was free! No more scrunched up little mad-face Chef V! No more arrogant asshole pizza guy! No more crisis after crisis and getting up at 5am to run the most fucked-up business I had ever had the misfortune to set foot in!
As it faded away, this job would merely be remembered as a pimple on the ass of my career.*
I started going to yoga religiously. Now, I had a bit too much time on my hands but I had a really good feeling that all was heading in a positive direction. Breathing, stretching and learning to pace myself. I had faith that part time would eventually lead to full time. Ever since Sicily, my renewed belief in myself, my talent and my choices kept me going. Within two months after starting my class, I was offered an additional one and went on salary. Not making as much as at my most recent gigs, but loving what I did.
Not long after that, our culinary supervisor was let go. He was just not cutting it and management had had enough of him. They came to me and asked me if I would be interested in the position.
I had really gone full circle this time. From being kicked out of this place, to being offered the big-cheese job.
Since Sicily, it had been a chess game of sorts, with each move very well thought out and not without risks. Left the cookie company, opened the shitbag cafe and then stepped into school. Now, I was about to have checkmate.
I interviewed with all of the levels of management. It was such a feeling of vindication to be listened to and have my opinions matter. My passion showed and it was clear that I was ready for the job. Shortly after, I was promoted to department chairperson.
I write this now one year after taking the position. I have not been without my battles and my frustrations. This job is no joke and I do work 12 hour days sometimes. Only, unlike the restaurant biz, it doesn't feel like it. I am energized and stimulated and never, ever bored. I love what I do. I am home and it is where my heart is. Que sera, sera! What will be, will be.
*The "shitbag" cafe closed for good within 4 months of being open.
