OK, well I wasn’t behind the line, but I was the manager. One of the servers ran up telling me that the kitchen was on fire and the cooks were burned… she had seen 2 of them with badly burned faces! It was 8pm on a Friday and the second
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Meet the Cleavers
I worked at one of the “Greek pizza” places that were common here in Ann Arbor for years. I was their first ever, female, dishwasher. Apparently this meant the fat, dickish, MARRIED, cook was supposed to pinch my ass whenever he passed me in the tiny hallway of a kitchen.
Posted in On The Line - Kitchen Stories
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