Have you seen these?
A Year in Books - 2009-12-27
Skip Tracer, Loan Detective - 2009-11-22
New Job - 2009-11-03
The coleslaw got served. - 2009-10-21
Probably a new job. But maybe not. - 2009-10-08

Monday is the new Saturday.
2008-02-04 9:56 p.m.

For almost a decade, I have believed that Monday is a Slow Night For Food Service. Five different restaurants over the years, and sales have always been lowest on Mondays. Friends who also work in restaurants say the same is true for them. The most commonly expressed theory is that everyone is feeling poor and/or tired after the weekend.

I'm here today to tell you we were wrong. The real reason no one goes out to eat on Mondays is that everyone goes grocery shopping instead. It's a little surreal. Friday and Saturday (the busiest nights in a restaurant) have now become the nights that time doesn't even move and a standard shift seems to last about 47 years. Monday is where it's at. Monday! Who knew?

Specifically, people go grocery shopping on Mondays, and buy rotisserie chickens. I am really starting to hate the rotisserie chickens.

The rotisserie oven can hold 21 chickens. It usually takes two hours for a load of chickens to cook. There is a large sign, hanging just above my head, that says I guarantee to have rotisserie chickens in stock from 4-7pm every day. Perhaps you are already beginning to sense my problem.

Of course, the chickens are good for four hours once they come out of the oven. That should make the chicken situation a little easier. Unfortunately, far too many people are aware that the chickens have timers on them, and will move all the chickens that I'll have to get rid of in an hour out of their way to get a fresh one from the back. I hate that. I hate throwing away six 5pm chickens, and realizing there are now only 10 chickens left to get me through the night. 5pm is not the time to realize you have a chicken emergency.

Oh, and it is an emergency. People get downright snippy when there is no chicken. I don't even want to think about the number of times I've had that damn sign hanging above my head read to me.

One of my coworkers recently came up with a fiendishly clever loophole. When she makes a full batch of chickens in the early afternoon, she'll immediately put 2-3 chickens in the cooler. When they are chilled, we can sell them as "precooked" rotisserie chickens. The magic label making device even prints out reheating instructions. That fucking sign says nothing at all about guaranteed "hot" or "fresh" rotisserie chicken.

The bonus is that most people will not take the precooked chicken. They'll realize they can't get all self-righteous about me denying their God-given right for a rotisserie chicken, but they don't particularly want the cold chicken either. That one cold chicken will stay on display all night, ready to be smilingly offered to the next person who asks for a rotisserie chicken 10 minutes later.

I try not to do this more often than absolutely necessary. I will make the recommended four full batches of chicken every single day, even though my life would be much easier if I could clean the damn rotisserie oven even a little earlier. It's nice to have a loophole though, especially on Mondays.

(Oooh. Cleaning the rotisserie. That can be a rant for another day. Suffice it to say I have already aquired numerous burns, and several fun chemical rashes. I really do like this job a lot more than my last one. Really!)

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