A Tale of Perseverance

[Lounge Lizard]

In 1988 I was in my mid-twenties and working as a cook in Vancouver BC. I had just left a job working for a large corporate chain as a Kitchen Manager and was taking advantage of some decent unemployment insurance. I had been catering some dinner parties for some of my rich friend's parents. When a friend of mine who was working for her parents leather clothing manufacturing company offered me the job of catering for huge a fashion show they were going to have. 500 people, black tie, fashion magazines, buyers from all over the world, local bands…big time stuff. This was a going to be a great opportunity for me to get my name out as a chef.

Here was the plan

I had a couple of months to get ready for the party so I spent a lot of time going through cooking magazines and books putting together ideas. I had a fairly big budget, and I was planning on spending about 5 grand on food and hiring 2 bartenders, another chef, and 6 waiters.

The party was being held in the company warehouse in a funky old building downtown.

I would have two no-charge full bars and a portable espresso machine, two food tables one savory and one sweet, waiters serving different hot and cold canapés and a seafood centerpiece table (sushi, oysters, smoked salmon and frozen vodka shots).

As the party got closer I rented a large fridge for home got everything ready that I could do that wasn't last minute. I had hand made chocolates and all my pastries. All my prep work, groceries, savories etc. It really was a lot of hours of work.

I had built racks into my little station wagon to transport everything. The rentals were being delivered the afternoon before the party and I was going to move all the food into fridges I had rented on site and set up the tables etc. I was doing all of this alone. I had the other cook and the staff hired for the party only. After setting up the previous night I could go home get some rest and the day of the party all I would have to do is pick up the Liquor and the last minute food, set everything, and serve.

Here is what really happened

Delivery

I arrived at the warehouse around 10 at night and parked my car loaded with the food near the loading dock and then went in to start checking on the rentals. I had been inside only a half hour at most when I received a page on the intercom from my friend who worked there and had let me in. She told me to come down to the loading dock.

I went outside to find my car had been broken into. The back window was smashed in and there was a large piece of concrete sitting where all of my food used to be. It was all gone. Every last truffle.

I must say I really didn't freak out right away although it came later, believe me. I had to get something going. I couldn't wait until morning to go shopping for 500 people. I had spent all of my money. My friend gave me her bank card I went home and grabbed my room mate who was going to work with me at the party. We emptied all of our bank accounts to the tune of about 3000 dollars and went racing across the city in my car with the window busted out and glass all over the seats to a grocery store we knew was open until midnight.

Grocery store

We pulled into the store with about a half hour until closing. We ran in and decided to split up and just buy whatever the hell looked like it could be worked with. We grabbed a couple of carts each and started going. A half-hour, $3000 shopping spree. It didn't take long for security to arrive but we soon had him helping us find stuff in the back that had been put away for the night. We ran up and down the aisles dumping armloads of food into our carts. As closing time neared we wheeled our shopping carts up to the cashier who had obviously been planning on going home in 5 minutes and was now faced with scanning and bagging 5 carts of food. She was less than pleased and showed it by going as slow as she possibly could. When it was all rung up we tossed it all in through the broken window of the car and headed home.

Home

So it was now around 1:30 in the morning and I had 15 hours to turn all of this food into a party for 500 people. We dumped it all out on the living room floor and started to pick through it. It was at this point my friend went to bed leaving me alone with my chaos. Now is when the freak out started to happen. I had been sober for the better part of a year, for the first time since I was about 14, so my body wasn't sure what to do with all these new stress signals that I normally would have "medicated" away. I spent some time having dry heaves in the bathroom and then went to work on the food.

The hours between then and the party are not very clear. I stayed up the whole night cooking, and then tossed it all in the car and dropped it off at the warehouse. I did my liquor run, got dressed in my whites and went back to the warehouse to begin the party.

Party time

So my friend who works for the company obviously knows what's going on but her parents are not aware of it. Its 5 o'clock and I'm in the basement with my other cook putting together trays for the waiters to serve. My bartenders and my friend working the espresso machine are setting up their stations. I can hear a string quartet playing in the lobby.

I honestly do not remember much of the food we served at this point but I'm fairly sure it was something like Ritz crackers with a piece of cucumber and a dill sprig.

The first I saw of the owners was quite early on when they came down to inform me that they had sent home one of the bartenders for being drunk. This was a friend of my roommates who he had assured me would be great for the job even though we both knew he was an alcoholic. He must have come in drunk or just headed to the bar and started getting loaded when he arrived.

We went on with the trays for awhile, the fashion show went off and then I decided to head up to the main room and set up my seafood station I still had planed to do.

Upstairs

I headed up to the main room to set up my seafood station. I opened the elevator door and was greeted with absolute madness. A popular west coast band was playing loudly and the black tie affair had taken on the appearance of some kind of a rave.

One of the first things I saw was Bill, the drunken bartender who had been sent home, was dancing by himself in the middle of the dance floor with a bottle of liquor in his hand.

Next I saw my room mate working the cappuccino machine being crushed by people as he crazily tried to keep up with demand. He shot me a desperate look and then sort of disappeared behind the mob. I went over to set up my station near the unmanned bar and watched the guests helping themselves to the booze. Just as I did this the other bartender walked up to me and said he couldn't not take it anymore and was quitting.

I was sort of happy that the event had turned so crazed because I thought it would take attention away from the lack of food. I was just about to head back down to the basement to grab something when I was again faced with the hosts of the party who had some more "news "for me. One of the waiters I had hired was (unknown to me) an animal rights activist and had been caught spray painting anti leather/fur graffiti in one of the washrooms. She had fled the building.

Seafood station

My plan for this was to have a large mirror tray filled with all kinds of fresh seafood. I was going to stand behind it and roll fresh sushi, shuck oysters and pour shots of frozen vodka. What it turned out to be was a bunch of store bought sushi I had found the night before during our shopping spree and some fresh oysters. The vodka had been pilfered by the guests early in the party. I set up what I had. People immediately began asking for fresh oysters. It was then that I realized I had forgotten to bring an oyster shucker. I ran around trying to find something to use and finally settled on a large paint covered flat head screwdriver. With every attempt at opening an oyster I ripped another chunk of skin off of my hands. After realizing I could not control the blood loss anymore I tossed the screwdriver aside and headed to the basement to smoke and wait for the party to end.

Clean up

My other chef and most of the waiters had bailed so I was left with 2 waiters and my roommate who had given up on the espresso machine early as well.

We were sitting back having a smoke waiting to get started on packing up when the owners came down and said we had to leave right away as they were going home and needed to secure the building. I would have to return the next day to clean up. We went home and I passed out on the couch until being woken up by the owners calling early the next day saying they were onsite and I needed to get started on the clean up. So, with out any staff to help me anymore I drove my car, still full of glass, over to the location and started to clean up.

The place was trashed. Broken glass and plates, liquor bottles all over. All the signs of a great party I suppose.

I don't remember doing much of a job cleaning the place up. I stacked the rentals that weren't broken by the door tossed out several garbage bags of broken dishes and was about to leave when the owners came by. They handed me a cheque to cover the cost of the food and I left. No money for me and none to cover the staff although they all bailed anyway and never called me to get paid.

The Haunted Leather Jacket

My friend who worked for the company called me later that week and asked me to meet her at the factory. I drove down and she led me to the warehouse and told me I could pick out a leather jacket to have for all of my troubles. This was all without her parents knowledge I'm sure. I picked out a $1000 lamb skin coat.

I had had the coat for a few weeks when my room mate asked me to borrow it to take his date to the Rolling Stones concert on his new motor bike. I held out for awhile but finally gave in and let him borrow it. In an accident on the way home he dumped the bike and broke both of his wrists trying not to let the jacket get ripped up.

A couple years later I still had the jacket which was very nicely broken in by now. One day I returned to my car to find a large rock had been thrown through the same window that had been broken during my catering disaster, and the leather jacket had been stolen.

Whenever I tell this story I wonder who broke into my car stole all the food. There was a ton of food in the car and every scrap was gone. I had only been inside for a short while. I picture some downtown homeless rummies loading up their shopping carts and heading back to their camp under a bridge somewhere to dig in. After their binge they sit back to enjoy a cigarette butt they found in an ashtray, commenting to their friends that "they just couldn't eat another chocolate truffle." I hope they enjoyed every bite.

[fifi]

Words fail me. All I can say is that this must be true because you just can't make this shit up. Thanks for sharing. (Now I know why I don't cook for the ignorant masses. God Bless all of you who do. It must be a calling.)

[Pan]

That story is bizarre. Why didn't your friend's parents pay you? Truly a nightmare.

Are you still a chef?

[theabroma]

Indeed, it IS a calling ... the Committee of Many who meet regularly in one's head, perpetually calling out to you.

Thanks God I have never had to regroup as you so handily did from such a freakin' disaster ... reading that exquisitely rendered litany, I laughed until tears started down my cheeks - with sympathy and with a touch of been there, had that done to me ... but the Committee is making so much noise now, I must run.

I say bullet proof glass is the answer!!!!

Theabroma

[Lounge Lizard]

That story is bizarre. Why didn't your friend's parents pay you? Truly a nightmare.

Are you still a chef?

I suppose they figured they had already laid out a couple thousand for the food that was stolen and another 3 thousand to cover the additional food. Most of the staff either quit during the event or was drunk or was vandalizing the property so I guess they figured I would leave quitely with enough to break even. We really didnt discuss it I am just speculating. I was just happy to get out of there.

I have continued to be a Chef now for over 20 years. Athough I did leave town after the party. It wasnt the career boost I was hoping for.

[SethG]

Thank you for sharing that amazing story.

[Jinmyo]

Egad.

Horrible.

But very well told.

[Jake]

Holy Sh*%!!!!

That is truly the *best* of the worst!

I gather every other little snafu along the way seemed mild by comparison??

[dano1]

Sh** happens in this business more often than not. All the prep and planning go right out the door at showtime. How you handle damage control is what separates the men and women from the boys and girls. God i love this business ;)

danny

[Mayhaw Man]

That is a sad tale well told. Nice work.

My favorite section was the part about the rogue animal rights activist spray painting the bathroom walls. That kinda falls into the "whaddya do?" catagory.

The one thing that you didn't make clear was the clients reaction to all of this. Were they really pissed or just mildly annoyed and taking advantage of a disaster for you by only paying for the food?

[cjs]

What a wonderful goodmorning story! Sounds perfectly f***** up. and of course you continued as a chef! This is what gets us hooked. Who needs rollercoasters or skydiving for that matter, when all you have to do is host a party for a few hundred people to get the adrenaline flowing.

[fifi]

Heh... It occurs to me that this sort of catering is really for thrill junkies. At least in a restaurant you have some control over the facilities, the room and the clientel. I would be approaching every one of these jobs with all of the attention required for a stroll through a mine field. WOO HOO!

[jo-mel]

Gads! The only thing I can say is that things could only get better after such a fiasco! You started off hitting the bottom!

What is that law? Murphy's Law -----"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

Thanks for the story. I admire your cool under fire!

[Carolyn Tillie]

Harrowing indeed.

This sort of adventure definitely moves you up a couple of rungs towards sainthood!

In thinking about all the broken glass, I'm curious of any of the shards ended up in the food that was stolen. Maybe one of the thieves choked on a glass sliver in karmic perpetuity!

[malarkey]

ya know, I wonder about the 'rummie's stealing the food' thing. one, alcoholics usually aren't interested in food. it wrecks their buzz. two, this is *almost* like you were set up. Thieves are usually after things they can sell, stereos, cds, leather, etc.

one helluva story.

[Lounge Lizard]

  this is *almost* like you were set up.

aww crap. Now I'm going to be all paranoid about it. I only ever assumed it was "rummies", but it was alot of food for anyone to cart off.

[malarkey]

LOL oh no I wouldn't be. how long ago was this?

[Lounge Lizard]

1988. It would be hard for me to go back and track everybodies whereabouts. I'll just continue to believe it was some down and out people who really needed a good meal.

[Jensen]

I like to think that it was the rummies who did it ... sort of revenge for Expo.

[Ellen Shapiro]

What an amazing story! And just look at the story value--it happened in 1988--it's now 2004 and I'll bet you've told that story at least once a year since. Talk about proverbial payback!

[marlena spieler]

nights and jobs like that....well, you can't make em up. and you gotta leave town afterwards pretty much sure thing.

my catering days (totally illegal-kitchen catering days i might add) were filled with such merry tales. once all of our food got eaten by deer! (staff left if for about 2 minutes on top of our catering vans. beautiful trays laid out and eaten down to the last little leaf, by a gathering of marin country deer.

then there was the time that,catering a wedding, my client (also rich parent of family friends) asked me to do the event and demurred on a contract saying that surely i could trust her. big mistake. i was left without enough money to pay for the fresh flowers for the big wedding cake (fresh fruit, creme chantilly, crushed praline, divine) so i sent staff into the park across the street to pick gaily coloured nasturtium. the cake looked more gorgeous than ever, and bitch-client agreed finally, it was the first thing she liked at all, and said she especially liked the texture of the little crunchy bits (?) and the lovely scrolls-curlique marks drawn in the whipped cream(?). I didn't know what she was talking about and a closer inspection revealed that tiny snails had rambled out of the flowers and crawled all over the cake!

oh, i could go on, such as the time i had to stash three big salmon in my bathtub on ice and my cats nibbled off their fins etc. and i had to camoflage the salmon with well made mayo and cucumber slices. or the time ....no no no i can't go on. don't even ask about the bone doctor convention, or the conference of llama owners and the vats of spilt spicy peanut dip.

but lets say that your image of your (fired) bartender on the dance floor with a bottle of booze in his hands rings uncomfortable and familiar bells in my memory.

thanks for your tale......and i wonder why i don't cater any longer!

[Ellen Shapiro]

More stories! What entertaining tales for a gloomy and frozen Saturday morning. What good fortune that the snails showed up!

[QuinaQuen]

My oh my, what a story. Alas, my one good whack at a bigtime catering job passed with far less fanfare. That is to say, it just plain never happened. Will you please put this into solid prose and put Anthony Bourdain's arrogant ass out of business?

[Andy Lynes]

Lounge Lizard, please don't take this the wrong way, but I really enjoyed reading that. Bad reality, great anecdote.

[tryska]

ya know, I wonder about the 'rummie's stealing the food' thing. one, alcoholics usually aren't interested in food. it wrecks their buzz. two, this is *almost* like you were set up. Thieves are usually after things they can sell, stereos, cds, leather, etc.

one helluva story.

the bums around my job raid our trash cans for expired gourmet cheese and other imported goodies every couple of hours. apparently they sell what they find on the street. Most of them seem to be crackheads and heroin addicts tho. Not necessarily drunks.

kinda like whoever breaks into Hosea Williams' turkey stash every damn year it seems the night before his Feed The Homeless Thanksgiving charity. Steal the turkeys and sell them.

Lounge Lizard - that certainly was a harrowing tale. Nice work not falling off the wagon during this drama. I can't say i would have been as strong as you.

Edited February 24, 2004 by tryska (log)