180 Degrees From Last Week

Okay, so the self righteous, radical me has pulled a complete 180. Drum roll please................. I have decided to take over the inn! Last week I spent most of my blog entry resounding on the reasons I have recited many times over the years to friends, family, and guests who were sorry to see me leave, of why I didn't want to go back to the inn.

Why have I suddenly changed my mind? Well, because I do that. Especially when my instincts flash a giant, blinding light that signal me that maybe I'm working towards nothing. Maybe I was getting too high on pride, while simultaneously feeling like I didn't have much too be proud of in the scheme of things. Well, here's what went down on Tuesday, not 24 hours after writing the blog on Monday. The money guy, of the three owners, who is the only one who seems to make decisions, greeted me.

Money Guy: "I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that you've been accepted into the X health care plan. The bad news is that you have to pay the bill."
Me:"Didn't you guys say you would split it with me when you hired me?".
MG: "I don't remember that. We should talk with the chef when he returns from vacation on Friday."

Somehow, I just wasn't satisfied with that. Why would we have to have a talk with the chef on Friday? Money Guy makes the money decisions, it's as simple as that. I hemmed and hawed, and he finally spit out the real reason he wasn't looking to split the health care:

MG: "You're the only one getting benefits besides the chef,"

(I thought, and the only one who works like I own the place and don't)

MG:"We may have said that when we hired you, we were also working on the assumption that the money we were making then would be the same now. I'm not sure the we can afford to put that much money out to the bakery when it's barely bringing anything in.
Me: "Well, I'm not Jean! (the previous, French, asshole.)
MG: "I know that, and that while you are improving, and even though your cakes taste great, they still aren't cakes we can bring to our wholesale clients," (retarded) "and offer as consistent products."

Now I think that they would be consistent, but apparently one stroke left on a cake from a palette knife is not good enough for them. They are OCD! I'm sorry, but if a cake looks good to me, it better taste good. I don't do looking great and tasting like ass. Money Guy then suggested I could sacrifice taste for looks, and I just couldn't believe it.

I mentioned that even if we offered the wholesale clients what I had, I was nervous that I wouldn't be able to handle the load of work in a timely manner. He agreed, and then confessed that they had previously toyed with turning the bakery into a fish market before Frenchy came along. That moment, I realized the bakery wasn't a part of the central vision of the restaurant, that they would never, never respect the work that I did, not really. And that, ladies and gents, is why working for someone else absolutely bites the big one.

I immediately called everyone I usually call when I have a problem I need to vent about, or rather, everyone who might not be at work/available. No one was available except good old moms. Now, by the time I called her, I had had an inkling that I might be considering the incredible idea that I had been harboring some ridiculous fears about taking over the inn, and maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, as evidenced from last week's blog. Yes, I had rationalized it over and over again so well that it sounded unbreakable. But I also knew that if I said the words, Babs would be overjoyed to hand me the biz, hold my hand in it for a while, (probably as long as she was alive), and be more than happy to finally retire and hang out on her pedal boat.

What was I really afraid of? What job doesn't have parts of it that suck? What was I doing working like I owned a place and not getting any return? Why is Croton really such a bad place to live?

I realized that I couldn't honestly answer any of those questions without feeling like a complete coward or just lax. If I was lucky enough to have a person offering me a business, and an established one at that, I should take it. I had a meeting with the new innkeeper and the moms the next day. I worried that I might be running away from a difficult situation but I wasn't. I gave my notice on Wednesday.

So now they have up to 4 weeks to find someone new, and I'm currently training a new protege. How is it that I'm training anybody? Honestly, the way these people are handling my notice is very strange. I realize there's a financial bottom line here, but wouldn't it be smarter to hire someone who can actually get them the business they so obviously need as opposed to getting by paying me less than they'd have to pay someone with more skillz? I told them that I believed we had different perspectives on what was important on a cake. Yes, it should look appetizing, but I'm sorry, they wanted someone with 20 years experience and they got me. There was no way I was going to get that skill down in 6 months, and no way that I would keep taking their criticism and not start taking it personally.

So now I'm working with Miguel. He's 21, from Mexico, hired originally to replace the chef from Africa who they were supposed to can yesterday, who begged and pleaded for his job at the time, and now they don't know what to do with Miguel. Miguel is sweet. He calls me his amor, follows everything I say, couldn't be nicer. He works hard, and is always willing to try something new. But he also doesn't have the tools, or even near the experience I had before I took the job. So what color is he if not green? What comes before green? I will do my best to train him, ut hopefully he'll be better, or worse for that matter, than me, and then they'll either have finally made a good investment (not like I didn't, I learned a whole lot) or they'll fuck themselves. But I love teaching.