"I fare well in stormy weather"
Fact: I've spent nearly my adult life in the Hospitality business, working mostly as a Chef
Fiction: I am what I do for a living
Fact: I've been let go twice in my career
Fiction: Neither time was for "unsatisfactory work performance"
Fact: Each time kicked me in the gut and had me foundering for some sense of 'why'
Fiction: I was lessened by my loss
Quite to the contrary, each loss has fortified, steeled me to myself in a way that all my successes couldn't
Fact: I have 1 key left on my key chain
It's for my 2005 Pontiac Vibe GT, which I have faithfully paid despite a vicious interest rate and some lean earning months.
I have 3 payments left.
In a sense it is the only thing I really "own" at this time.
I have some books, tools, pictures, tapes, DATS, albums, a 500 G hard drive, some clothes and a box that contains one monogrammed Chef coat from every job I have ever held.
In the past month I have had to leave a job, that although paid well, asked much and took even more.
I gave up my key card, Pcard, access codes and keys
Ended the lease on my apartment in a city I once questioned why anyone would go
Gave away or left behind most of the furniture, fixtures, and anything that wasn't nailed down
I gave up my key card, apartment key, storage key.
Moved what little was left to my girlfriend's parents house, interspersed in closets, unused bedrooms and the garage.
So, now I have 1 key left to give away.
Carmax will have that soon enough when it's time, and time is getting very short now.
I've been offered a job off this rock, on a British Protectorate that requires a very vigorous Work Visa application process.
There is a one bedroom apartment waiting for me to bed down in
There is a car waiting for me to drive on the left side of the road
There is work waiting worthy of the sum total of my experience, skills and all the guile that my mind can conjure
There are other keys to gain
New perspectives to witness
New opportunities to capture
New gains to be made in this new, quite radical, chapter of my life
And yet -
I feel that there is a deeper process at work, a more profound change than merely latitudes and attitudes
I'm not quite clear on what exactly it is; it's something near enough to grasp but far enough way to elude articulation but my intuition is calling it out for me to pay attention to.
I'll let you in on it when I make sense of it but for now, know that I place my face into the wind and one foot in front of the other because the past is dead and standing still is not an option; entropy is an ugly way to go.
Stand Tall & Frosty my Brothers & Sisters - Jonathon Livingstone Seagull is on the job
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Pilgrim in Paradise #1
A dear friend asked me just the other day, 'So, Adam, what would it look like, feel like to not judge yourself?'
The question dumbfounded me, primarily because I've spent my life and career, as a judgement machine. Sometimes because our particular craft continually intrigues, beguiles and bewitches us with time lines, best practices, hot young upstarts, crafty masters and the daily dance of getting through the day successfully and with some form of, if not self satisfaction then at least the esprit of a job well done.
So "Judgement" always seemed valid and indeed necessary.
But when that judgement extends into the darker recesses of our self assessment, self perspective and self esteem then that can lead one to some lonely, and stark assumptions of one's self.
And sometimes the places where those thoughts can lead, plant a hook so deep that no amount of pep talk is gonna dislodge it from the place where the pain emanates.
But what I think really think my friend meant was that we are our own worse enemy when it comes to "Judgement"; Jungian philosophy has always held that, in our own hearts and minds, there are the ever present specters of the Judge, Jury and Accused, as expressed by the id or our own egos.
The First is always quickest to Judge any particular thought, action or consequence
The Second is always ready to pronounce judgement, and
The Third is always ready, willing even to embody and internalize the Guilty verdict - almost as if it knew it was guilty from the start and wanted, needed, to be punished which only perpetuates the cycle again and again until any real self confidence or self reliability has been worn down and one is left with the only real thing that they know for sure:
That they suck
That I, in particular, suck
But I mean that in the most affectionate manner because at any time, in a moment's notice - that can all be changed and be free of the bondage of 'Judgement"
I know, because I've lived it.
My mother just recently wrote me an email where she told me that she knew that since I hadn't been in touch with her that I was living in the past and not yet looking forward, into my future.
I was still stuck with feelings of guilt, anger, betrayal and, more often than not - sorrow about how my last employment ended.
Try as I might, I just couldn't shake off the feeling that I had let everyone down, my associates, my family and not to mention myself.
Dont'cha just hate it when Mom is right?
So you see this email from a friend suggesting a different way of looking, no strike that, feeling hit me in my head like a hammer and after pondering this particular way of viewing myself in my world I've come to the conclusion that she has given me a precious gift.
One which I will not squander.
So, as a preamble, I'm about done.
Over the next several months I'm going to be taking some time and letting you in the metamorphosis that is occurring within me as I shed my place of residence, most of my belongings and most of all my internal baggage because the "Me" that is forming inside is already feeling a bit more free, especially from the doubt and - and here I have to be careful to be clear and honest without any heavy handiness - self hate; c'mon you the kind I'm talking about - the one the "Accused" in our head loves to feel when the 'Guilty' verdict is handed down, and, with which gives him license for all kinds of self destructive behavior.
Poster Child for Bad Behavior?
Nope, not me - I've got finer places to fly
Getting what you wish for is sometimes the straightest path to finding out what you really want because as Abraham says, when you get what you don't want you're already setting up your intentions for what you do want; remember - nature abhors a vacuum (my words, not his).
Stand Tall & Frosty my brothers & sisters; next time the particulars of our shared journey.
The question dumbfounded me, primarily because I've spent my life and career, as a judgement machine. Sometimes because our particular craft continually intrigues, beguiles and bewitches us with time lines, best practices, hot young upstarts, crafty masters and the daily dance of getting through the day successfully and with some form of, if not self satisfaction then at least the esprit of a job well done.
So "Judgement" always seemed valid and indeed necessary.
But when that judgement extends into the darker recesses of our self assessment, self perspective and self esteem then that can lead one to some lonely, and stark assumptions of one's self.
And sometimes the places where those thoughts can lead, plant a hook so deep that no amount of pep talk is gonna dislodge it from the place where the pain emanates.
But what I think really think my friend meant was that we are our own worse enemy when it comes to "Judgement"; Jungian philosophy has always held that, in our own hearts and minds, there are the ever present specters of the Judge, Jury and Accused, as expressed by the id or our own egos.
The First is always quickest to Judge any particular thought, action or consequence
The Second is always ready to pronounce judgement, and
The Third is always ready, willing even to embody and internalize the Guilty verdict - almost as if it knew it was guilty from the start and wanted, needed, to be punished which only perpetuates the cycle again and again until any real self confidence or self reliability has been worn down and one is left with the only real thing that they know for sure:
That they suck
That I, in particular, suck
But I mean that in the most affectionate manner because at any time, in a moment's notice - that can all be changed and be free of the bondage of 'Judgement"
I know, because I've lived it.
My mother just recently wrote me an email where she told me that she knew that since I hadn't been in touch with her that I was living in the past and not yet looking forward, into my future.
I was still stuck with feelings of guilt, anger, betrayal and, more often than not - sorrow about how my last employment ended.
Try as I might, I just couldn't shake off the feeling that I had let everyone down, my associates, my family and not to mention myself.
Dont'cha just hate it when Mom is right?
So you see this email from a friend suggesting a different way of looking, no strike that, feeling hit me in my head like a hammer and after pondering this particular way of viewing myself in my world I've come to the conclusion that she has given me a precious gift.
One which I will not squander.
So, as a preamble, I'm about done.
Over the next several months I'm going to be taking some time and letting you in the metamorphosis that is occurring within me as I shed my place of residence, most of my belongings and most of all my internal baggage because the "Me" that is forming inside is already feeling a bit more free, especially from the doubt and - and here I have to be careful to be clear and honest without any heavy handiness - self hate; c'mon you the kind I'm talking about - the one the "Accused" in our head loves to feel when the 'Guilty' verdict is handed down, and, with which gives him license for all kinds of self destructive behavior.
Poster Child for Bad Behavior?
Nope, not me - I've got finer places to fly
Getting what you wish for is sometimes the straightest path to finding out what you really want because as Abraham says, when you get what you don't want you're already setting up your intentions for what you do want; remember - nature abhors a vacuum (my words, not his).
Stand Tall & Frosty my brothers & sisters; next time the particulars of our shared journey.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
And so it goes;
Or more appropriately - there it went!
After all, it was only a job
Still I fell hard, crushed under the weight of a slightly inflated ego and delusions of grandeur.
I actually dressed for work and left the house for a week before I could swallow my shame and guilt and admit that I had 'lost' my job.
Lost my job? It was only lost to me - to another it might be a perfect find
But after going through my grief - "The only way out is through" a friend once told me - I find myself cleansed.
Well, almost.
So, the wheel has turned - but strangely I sense that the worm has turned as well; the one at the core of my spirit that has started a transformation of how I view myself in the world, my place in it - my responsibility to it and my actions within it.
There's something big happening behind the scenes but I'm not allowed to part the curtain quite yet; I've a few more contracts with fellow souls to satisfy - for whatever the reason.
I've been presented with an opportunity, for the second time, with someone who I thought lost to me - and a chance to regain my own self respect.
I'm going to take it, and run like hell
'The meal', and the act of producing it is a sacrament dedicated to those that partake of it - and a blessing to those that cooked it that nothing else in this world can compare to.
Be Proud, my brothers and sisters; and take good care of those in your care, even if for a moment.
After all, it was only a job
Still I fell hard, crushed under the weight of a slightly inflated ego and delusions of grandeur.
I actually dressed for work and left the house for a week before I could swallow my shame and guilt and admit that I had 'lost' my job.
Lost my job? It was only lost to me - to another it might be a perfect find
But after going through my grief - "The only way out is through" a friend once told me - I find myself cleansed.
Well, almost.
So, the wheel has turned - but strangely I sense that the worm has turned as well; the one at the core of my spirit that has started a transformation of how I view myself in the world, my place in it - my responsibility to it and my actions within it.
There's something big happening behind the scenes but I'm not allowed to part the curtain quite yet; I've a few more contracts with fellow souls to satisfy - for whatever the reason.
I've been presented with an opportunity, for the second time, with someone who I thought lost to me - and a chance to regain my own self respect.
I'm going to take it, and run like hell
'The meal', and the act of producing it is a sacrament dedicated to those that partake of it - and a blessing to those that cooked it that nothing else in this world can compare to.
Be Proud, my brothers and sisters; and take good care of those in your care, even if for a moment.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
You get what you get
Especially if you do what you've always done.
It's been about 4 months since I last posted and the absence has been a planned one, albeit a bit longer than I anticipated.
For those of you who've followed me for a while you'll remember that my personal and professional story had been written in the daily headlines as the recession affected millions of people, myself included.
For those of you who haven't followed me, my recent history was as challenging as it was unremarkable from those you may know more personally and whose details you may be more intimately familiar with.
I passed a billboard the other day which read, "Recession 101, it's a test, not the final". The first time I saw it, the message stung like hell because at the time it felt like a death sentence; certainly not the motivating message it was meant to be or that which I would come to view it as. Two years ago I had lost a very good position with a start up company - the job had everything I could have wished for but when the housing market collapsed, and the subsequent credit crunch ensued it became clear to my employers - and to myself that, a company has little use for a Corporate Chef with only one unit and with all other deals either on hold or dead in the water I could easily read the writing on the wall.
Looking back on it now I'm amazed that I kept it all going for the next 2 years as I saw my income wither and dry up but plug forward I did.
In a moment of clarity, buoyed by a vision of what my life could become and dismissing my then current reality I spent 3 days deep in thought and an hour at breakneck speed writing out a 'script', a movie if you will about what my life should be if anything was possible.
Sounds like a frivolous project I know, given the bleak outlook of those days but I crafted what I called, 'My Perfect Day', whose narrative took into account every single detail - from what I would have for breakfast to what clothes I wore to the car I drove - well, you get the 'picture'. I rationalized since this was my delusion then I could make it up about anything I wanted but more importantly - what felt good to me.
All of it was written in the present tense as if it had already come to pass; it was a cathartic experience but little did I know what kind of an impact that document would have on my future.
The first line was, "I'm the Culinary Director or Corporate Chef for a progressive food service company, in partnership with committed, creative and passionate people, connected to the community and engaged in business with integrity and authenticity"
As it turns out, that may have been the moment that my recovery was at hand because 4 months later I was hard at work for a national supermarket chain as the corporate chef. Although this particular company had seen it's share of hard times, a bankruptcy in 2005 which reduced the number of stores from 1,100 to 485 AND has been around long enough to be considered 1.) An industry leader, 2.) Perhaps out of touch with the 'new' merchandising (which I've come to know as the 'old' style of doing business - getting to know your customers, being locally relevant, socially responsible and good stewards of trust; cycles within cycles - the point being that globalization often takes us far afield of our primary mission and if you can survive long enough, will be brought right back to that which is and has always been the right way to do business -by creating meaningful relationships.) and 3.) From what some stock market analysis claimed - may be on the ropes and ripe for a take over.
Given the history of the brand and the realization that fainter hearts would have run for the hills in a feeble attempt to protect market share this company has gone out and put together a team of highly competent, imaginative professionals for whom risk was not a dirty word; bucking their history and convention to strike out in a bold new direction. For the first couple of months I wondered how I fit into this dynamic mix of operators and dreamers - I had never worked in retail before and found everything from the language to recipe costing completely different from the Hospitality industry that I had known and grown comfortable, perhaps even a bit complacent with as well.
Personally and professionally this seemed as good a time as any to stretch myself in a new direction and get out there on the skinny branches of the safety tree.
Oddly enough the company had never had a Corporate Chef before so this was bit new to all of us!
Then, in a meeting, I heard something quite remarkable - the visionary who headed up our department told everyone present that our competition was not the other grocery stores, big box marketers, club or discount stores - I mean they were but a can of peas is a can of peas is a can of peas; our true nemesis was every restaurant on the street and the real challenge laid out before us was that we need to get in the head of the restaurateurs, know what they know, model our business after theirs and everything, I mean everything we offered had to be restaurant quality or above.
Now that's something I could get behind, more importantly that's something I knew intimately and, consequently, something that I could offer my present employers - the gorilla mindset that is every good restaurant operator's credo - suddenly my mission, and my value, came into focus. Now, I thought to myself, I get it.
So for the past 4 months I have been traveling extensively, meeting with vendors - creating flavor profiles that we can call our own, cooking more chickens than you can possible imagine - going so far outside the box that I can no longer see the lines and having a blast, humbly and gratefully, with every breath I have.
Casting aside all that I knew to be safe and comfortable I now spend every morning mediating, focusing on what feels good - and right; setting myself up for success from the inside out.
So instead of blogging at the end of the day, I'm going to commit to writing in the morning, just after my mediation when my mind, and heart, are wide open - resisting the urge to self editing and allowing whatever moves me that particular day to come forth. and relating to you, my dear readers, what this side of the food business looks, feels and tastes like - after all, in the future we'll be looking to promising young culinarians like yourself to take us to the next level.
The path I lay may be a bit uneven, things are moving so fast that there's little time to make it pretty - I would rather work hard at raising the bar and shoot for the stars, you'll make your mark when you get here.
Hopefully it'll be of some value to you, I know it will for me and I'm willing to do, say and be something different today, with the clarity that - coming from that place, we're sure to get something different that what we're always gotten and maybe, just maybe we can call it progress.
At the very least we'll be able to call it fun.
Make it a powerful day my brothers and sisters.
It's been about 4 months since I last posted and the absence has been a planned one, albeit a bit longer than I anticipated.
For those of you who've followed me for a while you'll remember that my personal and professional story had been written in the daily headlines as the recession affected millions of people, myself included.
For those of you who haven't followed me, my recent history was as challenging as it was unremarkable from those you may know more personally and whose details you may be more intimately familiar with.
I passed a billboard the other day which read, "Recession 101, it's a test, not the final". The first time I saw it, the message stung like hell because at the time it felt like a death sentence; certainly not the motivating message it was meant to be or that which I would come to view it as. Two years ago I had lost a very good position with a start up company - the job had everything I could have wished for but when the housing market collapsed, and the subsequent credit crunch ensued it became clear to my employers - and to myself that, a company has little use for a Corporate Chef with only one unit and with all other deals either on hold or dead in the water I could easily read the writing on the wall.
Looking back on it now I'm amazed that I kept it all going for the next 2 years as I saw my income wither and dry up but plug forward I did.
In a moment of clarity, buoyed by a vision of what my life could become and dismissing my then current reality I spent 3 days deep in thought and an hour at breakneck speed writing out a 'script', a movie if you will about what my life should be if anything was possible.
Sounds like a frivolous project I know, given the bleak outlook of those days but I crafted what I called, 'My Perfect Day', whose narrative took into account every single detail - from what I would have for breakfast to what clothes I wore to the car I drove - well, you get the 'picture'. I rationalized since this was my delusion then I could make it up about anything I wanted but more importantly - what felt good to me.
All of it was written in the present tense as if it had already come to pass; it was a cathartic experience but little did I know what kind of an impact that document would have on my future.
The first line was, "I'm the Culinary Director or Corporate Chef for a progressive food service company, in partnership with committed, creative and passionate people, connected to the community and engaged in business with integrity and authenticity"
As it turns out, that may have been the moment that my recovery was at hand because 4 months later I was hard at work for a national supermarket chain as the corporate chef. Although this particular company had seen it's share of hard times, a bankruptcy in 2005 which reduced the number of stores from 1,100 to 485 AND has been around long enough to be considered 1.) An industry leader, 2.) Perhaps out of touch with the 'new' merchandising (which I've come to know as the 'old' style of doing business - getting to know your customers, being locally relevant, socially responsible and good stewards of trust; cycles within cycles - the point being that globalization often takes us far afield of our primary mission and if you can survive long enough, will be brought right back to that which is and has always been the right way to do business -by creating meaningful relationships.) and 3.) From what some stock market analysis claimed - may be on the ropes and ripe for a take over.
Given the history of the brand and the realization that fainter hearts would have run for the hills in a feeble attempt to protect market share this company has gone out and put together a team of highly competent, imaginative professionals for whom risk was not a dirty word; bucking their history and convention to strike out in a bold new direction. For the first couple of months I wondered how I fit into this dynamic mix of operators and dreamers - I had never worked in retail before and found everything from the language to recipe costing completely different from the Hospitality industry that I had known and grown comfortable, perhaps even a bit complacent with as well.
Personally and professionally this seemed as good a time as any to stretch myself in a new direction and get out there on the skinny branches of the safety tree.
Oddly enough the company had never had a Corporate Chef before so this was bit new to all of us!
Then, in a meeting, I heard something quite remarkable - the visionary who headed up our department told everyone present that our competition was not the other grocery stores, big box marketers, club or discount stores - I mean they were but a can of peas is a can of peas is a can of peas; our true nemesis was every restaurant on the street and the real challenge laid out before us was that we need to get in the head of the restaurateurs, know what they know, model our business after theirs and everything, I mean everything we offered had to be restaurant quality or above.
Now that's something I could get behind, more importantly that's something I knew intimately and, consequently, something that I could offer my present employers - the gorilla mindset that is every good restaurant operator's credo - suddenly my mission, and my value, came into focus. Now, I thought to myself, I get it.
So for the past 4 months I have been traveling extensively, meeting with vendors - creating flavor profiles that we can call our own, cooking more chickens than you can possible imagine - going so far outside the box that I can no longer see the lines and having a blast, humbly and gratefully, with every breath I have.
Casting aside all that I knew to be safe and comfortable I now spend every morning mediating, focusing on what feels good - and right; setting myself up for success from the inside out.
So instead of blogging at the end of the day, I'm going to commit to writing in the morning, just after my mediation when my mind, and heart, are wide open - resisting the urge to self editing and allowing whatever moves me that particular day to come forth. and relating to you, my dear readers, what this side of the food business looks, feels and tastes like - after all, in the future we'll be looking to promising young culinarians like yourself to take us to the next level.
The path I lay may be a bit uneven, things are moving so fast that there's little time to make it pretty - I would rather work hard at raising the bar and shoot for the stars, you'll make your mark when you get here.
Hopefully it'll be of some value to you, I know it will for me and I'm willing to do, say and be something different today, with the clarity that - coming from that place, we're sure to get something different that what we're always gotten and maybe, just maybe we can call it progress.
At the very least we'll be able to call it fun.
Make it a powerful day my brothers and sisters.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Job Search 3.0
So here it was; 500 resumes reviewed, 147 panel interviews - down to 17 viable candidates, now just four left. The Company decided that the best way to determine who would fill the position was to have a 'Top Chef' style cook off, oh my.
Southern Style Meatloaf and a Chef's choice entree. 1 Presentation plate and tasting plates for 10.
A month passes and I get the call, it would seem that I'm one of the last three standing, one candidate dropped out when they found out that they would need to cook it off. For a week I can think of little else, so many questions; what's at the site, who will I be cooking against, what dish would best exemplify my cooking style and reflect my food focus in the actual job? I can feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, bearing me down as the date comes inexorably closer. I wear a rubber band on my wrist in order to express some Neural Linguistic Programming - when I find myself getting overwhelmed by the prospect of doing poorly and letting down all who love, and depend on me, I snap the band so I can come back to a place of calm and presence - I can only hope that I can do the same thing on the day of the event simply by just looking at my wrist; jogging my sub conscious into a placid place.
Soon all doubts would be answered.
Very soon there would be nothing left to do but to do it.
Driving to the city of the cook off I spend the hours staring through the traffic and road hazards like I'm trying to peer through to the present to the 'almost here'. The car ride feels like I'm hurtling towards my future, be it good or ill. I really have to now idea what's going to happen and trust in the tightly held belief that 'it' always works out for the best no matter what that may look like.
Have I invested myself so dearly, emotionally, that if this doesn't go well I'll be able to square my shoulders and hold my head up high regardless of the outcome or will the let down cripple me for weeks to come; limping along without a cause or purpose?
I sing through my conflicting emotions with the music on the flash drive stuck into the dash like a two by four thrown through a barn door by a twister.
The car rolls on.
I had googled, facebooked, linkedin and searched the blogosphere for information about the other 2 and the Company principles. Proper preparation yes but still and all the proof would be in the pudding. In one way it didn't matter what I found, in the end my only real competition would be me. Would I be able to get out of my own way, allow 'it' to flow, accept the moment for what it was without forcing it? After all my writing, and talking about Kanji in the Kitchen would I finally be able to express it without it sounding false, trite or insipid? Would I be found to be a poser, inauthentic - the 'fraud' of the ego that we all secretly fear or would I be able to harness my passion, ramp down my 'bull in the china shop' spirit and articulate my deepest gratitude and humility that I was even here at all - surely there were so many out there, just as deserving of this opportunity? The questions were deafening.
And yet here I was, moving forward.
At the hotel I spent a very restless night sleep, going over my plan - movements, timing, script, options, backup plans and fall back positions like an Olympic athlete - my body swaying in the brisk early morning breezes of the hotel room balcony as I close my eyes imagining the furious last moments right before service. Before I know it, or I believe myself ready, the clock says it's time to go; time to stand tall and frosty my brothers and sisters and bring it - after all this time there is only this day, this moment of presence that is real, gritty and tastes a bit steely in the mouth.
I straighten my jacket, check my tools for the 10th time, get into my clogs and head down stairs towards what feels like my time.
The three of us meet. We're shown the kitchen where we'll be making our magic. We go to the store where we're to buy all the product necessary to prepare our dishes later at 1:30 pm. We find out that it's not 10 people eating but 12; did we buy enough food? Had we considered the cooking shrinkage or picked up enough seasoning?
I go back to the hotel to get a nap but sleep eludes me, my mind filled again with the dream of the dance until I resign myself to the inevitable. I get up and suit up again. Had I eaten? Did I even need to? The adrenalin flushing my face would be fuel enough for me, I decide and head down again to the car. The one other candidate in the hotel and I make mindless chit chat during the drive, each firmly entrenched in our own internal dialogue. We agree that no matter what we'll be professional and help each; finding pots and pans, locating an onion or plating the dishes as we only have 10 minutes between courses.
And here it is, no time left to consider the others in our lives or the possibility of defeat. Everything falls away and there is a moment of clarity unlike anything else - a place where all possibilties exist at the same time and the hands run true and the knives all cut straight. I'm getting ahead of myself I realize; with all my product arranged around my cutting board I take a deep breath, close my eyes and give a moment of silent thanks - a prayer of gratitude for even being here at all. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
'You Okay?' my compatriot asks noticing that I'm not moving. 'Yeah, brother - thanks' I say as I pick my knife up and start moving with a purpose, grounded finally. Yea, man I think to myself, oh hell yeah.
The first hour flies by as we'll all heads down, elbows akimbo, stripping produce, blooming herbs and shallots, reducing gastrics and molding meatloaf's. We all steal glances at one another through the tools hanging on the overhead rack, calling out time and checking each other for progress. I realize that it's a perfect day, a perfect moment frozen in culinary heaven; each of us has a distinctive style, unlike the other and our meatloaf plates are a direct reflection - French country, ACF American and southern as southern can be. Our entree plates have three different proteins, three different focuses, three different approaches.
It's apparent that the Company picked well, they would have their work cut out for them - ain't no scrubs in this group.
All competitiveness, judgment or self serving criticism has disappeared. We watch each other for best practices and realize that there is something to learn from the other's approach.
Cool.
2:30 comes and goes like it was never there.
We find out that there will be 13, not 12. Alrighty then - no worries now; just keep going.
Suddenly we're all three outside the back door grabbing a breath of fresh air. Three different styles, three different dishes and we're all at the same point; ready to rock with a moment to spare.
We find out that there is a scheduling change and we'll present both our presentation plates at the same time; oops, now I gotta scramble - I thought that we had an hour between the two presentations. I grab pans of food, staged and nested in bowls ready to fire. I cook enough for the 1 plate. We all work silently on the presentation plates until we're called out in front of the group, quickly wiping rims at the last and checking the height of the fried onions on the meatloaf.
'You know if this was an ACF competition, non functional garnish would cost you points' one competitor comments at the plates on the table. I wonder that the ACF would say about one candidate bringing in prepared corn bread and collared greens or the other bringing in a container of tools nor available to the others. I brush off the comment, no time nor energy to give that criticism - almost there, just keep going.
I look around, startled by the observation that time is going to be tighter than I thought and shift gears, cooking and staging items necessary to plate. Wow I think to myself, this is bangin', enjoying the moment as we walk our plates out to the staff assembled around the table.
We take turns talking about our plates and are then excused back to the kitchen to finish it off.
I'm number 2 and started getting the plates ready; 8 minutes someone shouts.
In 6 I'm finishing the garnish and following the plate parade to the table. I stand mute, ready to answer any questions but it's apparent that my meatloaf has done the talking for me; all heads are down and forks scrape plates - a most perfect silence.
I am excused to stage the next meal.
Back in the kitchen I start wondering what's become of candidate number 3. He seems to have been out there for a while, probably talking himself up - arguing for his greatness. I have little time left but, for a second, I ask myself why no one asked me any questions about my meatloaf or culinary pedigree.
7 minutes! I have my marching orders and I execute; beautifully I might add.
No matter what, I think to myself, I represented myself well today - that, beyond anything, would be my solace and my bragging rights no matter what happened.
I walk out with my head up and my heart on my sleeve, apparent for all to see.
Then the questions come; about the meatloaf, why I got in the business in the first place, what I thought the position would entail, how I saw myself in it. I speak humbly, thankful for all my history, experience and skill set. I speak like the job was mine, saying things like 'ours' and 'we'. Assuming the position was not lost on them as I look into their eyes and see slight smiles and nods of heads.
My feet never touch the ground walking back to the kitchen.
Clean up, restock, gather dirty pots and pans - the days not over yet and there's till work to be done.
We congratulate each other on the back dock, stealing a cigarette. This could go any way, I say, confident in the truth of it. We all did well and we respected each other through the process - a winning day in my book. As we walk back into the kitchen to get our final instructions I start to feel the inevitable adrenalin crash in my legs, suddenly heavy.
We're again introduced to the panel. Profuse thanks are offered and I get the feeling that this went very well for the Company. Pictures are taken, hands are grasped - eye contact made trying to get a read of how it went or who might have the edge.
In the end, we're told that a decision would be made after the weekend.
Manoman, it's going to be a long three days
Southern Style Meatloaf and a Chef's choice entree. 1 Presentation plate and tasting plates for 10.
A month passes and I get the call, it would seem that I'm one of the last three standing, one candidate dropped out when they found out that they would need to cook it off. For a week I can think of little else, so many questions; what's at the site, who will I be cooking against, what dish would best exemplify my cooking style and reflect my food focus in the actual job? I can feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, bearing me down as the date comes inexorably closer. I wear a rubber band on my wrist in order to express some Neural Linguistic Programming - when I find myself getting overwhelmed by the prospect of doing poorly and letting down all who love, and depend on me, I snap the band so I can come back to a place of calm and presence - I can only hope that I can do the same thing on the day of the event simply by just looking at my wrist; jogging my sub conscious into a placid place.
Soon all doubts would be answered.
Very soon there would be nothing left to do but to do it.
Driving to the city of the cook off I spend the hours staring through the traffic and road hazards like I'm trying to peer through to the present to the 'almost here'. The car ride feels like I'm hurtling towards my future, be it good or ill. I really have to now idea what's going to happen and trust in the tightly held belief that 'it' always works out for the best no matter what that may look like.
Have I invested myself so dearly, emotionally, that if this doesn't go well I'll be able to square my shoulders and hold my head up high regardless of the outcome or will the let down cripple me for weeks to come; limping along without a cause or purpose?
I sing through my conflicting emotions with the music on the flash drive stuck into the dash like a two by four thrown through a barn door by a twister.
The car rolls on.
I had googled, facebooked, linkedin and searched the blogosphere for information about the other 2 and the Company principles. Proper preparation yes but still and all the proof would be in the pudding. In one way it didn't matter what I found, in the end my only real competition would be me. Would I be able to get out of my own way, allow 'it' to flow, accept the moment for what it was without forcing it? After all my writing, and talking about Kanji in the Kitchen would I finally be able to express it without it sounding false, trite or insipid? Would I be found to be a poser, inauthentic - the 'fraud' of the ego that we all secretly fear or would I be able to harness my passion, ramp down my 'bull in the china shop' spirit and articulate my deepest gratitude and humility that I was even here at all - surely there were so many out there, just as deserving of this opportunity? The questions were deafening.
And yet here I was, moving forward.
At the hotel I spent a very restless night sleep, going over my plan - movements, timing, script, options, backup plans and fall back positions like an Olympic athlete - my body swaying in the brisk early morning breezes of the hotel room balcony as I close my eyes imagining the furious last moments right before service. Before I know it, or I believe myself ready, the clock says it's time to go; time to stand tall and frosty my brothers and sisters and bring it - after all this time there is only this day, this moment of presence that is real, gritty and tastes a bit steely in the mouth.
I straighten my jacket, check my tools for the 10th time, get into my clogs and head down stairs towards what feels like my time.
The three of us meet. We're shown the kitchen where we'll be making our magic. We go to the store where we're to buy all the product necessary to prepare our dishes later at 1:30 pm. We find out that it's not 10 people eating but 12; did we buy enough food? Had we considered the cooking shrinkage or picked up enough seasoning?
I go back to the hotel to get a nap but sleep eludes me, my mind filled again with the dream of the dance until I resign myself to the inevitable. I get up and suit up again. Had I eaten? Did I even need to? The adrenalin flushing my face would be fuel enough for me, I decide and head down again to the car. The one other candidate in the hotel and I make mindless chit chat during the drive, each firmly entrenched in our own internal dialogue. We agree that no matter what we'll be professional and help each; finding pots and pans, locating an onion or plating the dishes as we only have 10 minutes between courses.
And here it is, no time left to consider the others in our lives or the possibility of defeat. Everything falls away and there is a moment of clarity unlike anything else - a place where all possibilties exist at the same time and the hands run true and the knives all cut straight. I'm getting ahead of myself I realize; with all my product arranged around my cutting board I take a deep breath, close my eyes and give a moment of silent thanks - a prayer of gratitude for even being here at all. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
'You Okay?' my compatriot asks noticing that I'm not moving. 'Yeah, brother - thanks' I say as I pick my knife up and start moving with a purpose, grounded finally. Yea, man I think to myself, oh hell yeah.
The first hour flies by as we'll all heads down, elbows akimbo, stripping produce, blooming herbs and shallots, reducing gastrics and molding meatloaf's. We all steal glances at one another through the tools hanging on the overhead rack, calling out time and checking each other for progress. I realize that it's a perfect day, a perfect moment frozen in culinary heaven; each of us has a distinctive style, unlike the other and our meatloaf plates are a direct reflection - French country, ACF American and southern as southern can be. Our entree plates have three different proteins, three different focuses, three different approaches.
It's apparent that the Company picked well, they would have their work cut out for them - ain't no scrubs in this group.
All competitiveness, judgment or self serving criticism has disappeared. We watch each other for best practices and realize that there is something to learn from the other's approach.
Cool.
2:30 comes and goes like it was never there.
We find out that there will be 13, not 12. Alrighty then - no worries now; just keep going.
Suddenly we're all three outside the back door grabbing a breath of fresh air. Three different styles, three different dishes and we're all at the same point; ready to rock with a moment to spare.
We find out that there is a scheduling change and we'll present both our presentation plates at the same time; oops, now I gotta scramble - I thought that we had an hour between the two presentations. I grab pans of food, staged and nested in bowls ready to fire. I cook enough for the 1 plate. We all work silently on the presentation plates until we're called out in front of the group, quickly wiping rims at the last and checking the height of the fried onions on the meatloaf.
'You know if this was an ACF competition, non functional garnish would cost you points' one competitor comments at the plates on the table. I wonder that the ACF would say about one candidate bringing in prepared corn bread and collared greens or the other bringing in a container of tools nor available to the others. I brush off the comment, no time nor energy to give that criticism - almost there, just keep going.
I look around, startled by the observation that time is going to be tighter than I thought and shift gears, cooking and staging items necessary to plate. Wow I think to myself, this is bangin', enjoying the moment as we walk our plates out to the staff assembled around the table.
We take turns talking about our plates and are then excused back to the kitchen to finish it off.
I'm number 2 and started getting the plates ready; 8 minutes someone shouts.
In 6 I'm finishing the garnish and following the plate parade to the table. I stand mute, ready to answer any questions but it's apparent that my meatloaf has done the talking for me; all heads are down and forks scrape plates - a most perfect silence.
I am excused to stage the next meal.
Back in the kitchen I start wondering what's become of candidate number 3. He seems to have been out there for a while, probably talking himself up - arguing for his greatness. I have little time left but, for a second, I ask myself why no one asked me any questions about my meatloaf or culinary pedigree.
7 minutes! I have my marching orders and I execute; beautifully I might add.
No matter what, I think to myself, I represented myself well today - that, beyond anything, would be my solace and my bragging rights no matter what happened.
I walk out with my head up and my heart on my sleeve, apparent for all to see.
Then the questions come; about the meatloaf, why I got in the business in the first place, what I thought the position would entail, how I saw myself in it. I speak humbly, thankful for all my history, experience and skill set. I speak like the job was mine, saying things like 'ours' and 'we'. Assuming the position was not lost on them as I look into their eyes and see slight smiles and nods of heads.
My feet never touch the ground walking back to the kitchen.
Clean up, restock, gather dirty pots and pans - the days not over yet and there's till work to be done.
We congratulate each other on the back dock, stealing a cigarette. This could go any way, I say, confident in the truth of it. We all did well and we respected each other through the process - a winning day in my book. As we walk back into the kitchen to get our final instructions I start to feel the inevitable adrenalin crash in my legs, suddenly heavy.
We're again introduced to the panel. Profuse thanks are offered and I get the feeling that this went very well for the Company. Pictures are taken, hands are grasped - eye contact made trying to get a read of how it went or who might have the edge.
In the end, we're told that a decision would be made after the weekend.
Manoman, it's going to be a long three days
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Recession Lessons
'It'll be nice to take you out for sushi', I confessed to my girlfriend.
'Or bring home flowers every week...' She gives me a wry smile.
Over the last two years, after losing a job I really enjoyed but which was victim of the housing and the consequent credit crisis, my life has become an exercise in contraction as I became - just like many others, underemployed.
I am very grateful that I had clients who were appreciative of my work and kept my head above water with new projects and who paid fairly consistently.
Others have had it much worse with little or no work to keep them mentally and emotionally active and one step in front of the wolves at the door, so I'm keenly aware just how lucky I am.
But as with anyone in business in a challenging economic period, some of my clients discovered ways closer to home to spend their ever precious revenue and it became clear to me that I might need to re-enter the ranks of my culinary brothers and sisters manning the kitchens of operations all too aware that they need to work harder than ever to secure their profit line; and with little else to whittle away I saw job postings with smaller and smaller annual salaries and hourly rates.
I revamped my resume, worked at broadening my networks, worked my vendors, associates and friends for job leads. Even a recent Irish wake for a dear friend of mine became a networking event as the crowd filled with people In The Biz who I hadn't seen in years. Business cards were exchanged, meetings arranged, phone calls promised. Everyone seemed to be in the same position as I, needing work and looking for an advocate, any advocate; someone to help get past the gate keepers of the jobs we most wanted.
At home, it became essentials only, carefully planned trips to the grocer and leftovers for lunch; nothing was left to chance and when we needed it the most, money came in the nick of time to take care of what was most important next; rent, electric, car insurance, groceries.
Chess, backgammon, dominoes or card playing became a nightly ritual; ways in which to stay connected in the midst of the stress of making the next payment, the worry of how many hours of work there had been that week - the realization that such worry was taking me further and further away from those that I love; that if I wasn't careful I could, very easily, insulate myself against the world, cocooned by my stress and disconnected from those that keep me sane, and against all odds - laughing; lightened and strengthened for tomorrow's possibilities.
It's been an emotional roller coaster of questioning, gauging the marketplace, promising leads that ultimately lead nowhere; times of self reflection, getting clear about what I really wanted and thinking about what I really need; it felt to me that life and it's circumstance had provided me with an opportunity to clear the decks and get really connected about what I wanted my life to be about and tangentially what would make up my life.
So I got some real work in; some of it wasn't pretty but it was all necessary.
Now, it would seem, I'm in the running for a job that would really inspire me, will really groove me, push me and cause me to really grow - as a professional and a person. And with it comes the reality that all things really do work out for the best, even if we don't know what that looks like because had I taken a job below my skill level or experience set just to have a job then I certainly wouldn't be in the position I am today - with what looks like the possibility of having my dream job.
So what have I learned?
That a strong sense of self and faith in the process is more important than any 401K
That health, family and friends are really the only currency that matters
And that all else, may it be sushi or flowers, is negotiable and is only just icing on the cake.
'Or bring home flowers every week...' She gives me a wry smile.
Over the last two years, after losing a job I really enjoyed but which was victim of the housing and the consequent credit crisis, my life has become an exercise in contraction as I became - just like many others, underemployed.
I am very grateful that I had clients who were appreciative of my work and kept my head above water with new projects and who paid fairly consistently.
Others have had it much worse with little or no work to keep them mentally and emotionally active and one step in front of the wolves at the door, so I'm keenly aware just how lucky I am.
But as with anyone in business in a challenging economic period, some of my clients discovered ways closer to home to spend their ever precious revenue and it became clear to me that I might need to re-enter the ranks of my culinary brothers and sisters manning the kitchens of operations all too aware that they need to work harder than ever to secure their profit line; and with little else to whittle away I saw job postings with smaller and smaller annual salaries and hourly rates.
I revamped my resume, worked at broadening my networks, worked my vendors, associates and friends for job leads. Even a recent Irish wake for a dear friend of mine became a networking event as the crowd filled with people In The Biz who I hadn't seen in years. Business cards were exchanged, meetings arranged, phone calls promised. Everyone seemed to be in the same position as I, needing work and looking for an advocate, any advocate; someone to help get past the gate keepers of the jobs we most wanted.
At home, it became essentials only, carefully planned trips to the grocer and leftovers for lunch; nothing was left to chance and when we needed it the most, money came in the nick of time to take care of what was most important next; rent, electric, car insurance, groceries.
Chess, backgammon, dominoes or card playing became a nightly ritual; ways in which to stay connected in the midst of the stress of making the next payment, the worry of how many hours of work there had been that week - the realization that such worry was taking me further and further away from those that I love; that if I wasn't careful I could, very easily, insulate myself against the world, cocooned by my stress and disconnected from those that keep me sane, and against all odds - laughing; lightened and strengthened for tomorrow's possibilities.
It's been an emotional roller coaster of questioning, gauging the marketplace, promising leads that ultimately lead nowhere; times of self reflection, getting clear about what I really wanted and thinking about what I really need; it felt to me that life and it's circumstance had provided me with an opportunity to clear the decks and get really connected about what I wanted my life to be about and tangentially what would make up my life.
So I got some real work in; some of it wasn't pretty but it was all necessary.
Now, it would seem, I'm in the running for a job that would really inspire me, will really groove me, push me and cause me to really grow - as a professional and a person. And with it comes the reality that all things really do work out for the best, even if we don't know what that looks like because had I taken a job below my skill level or experience set just to have a job then I certainly wouldn't be in the position I am today - with what looks like the possibility of having my dream job.
So what have I learned?
That a strong sense of self and faith in the process is more important than any 401K
That health, family and friends are really the only currency that matters
And that all else, may it be sushi or flowers, is negotiable and is only just icing on the cake.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)