A Heated Working Environment

| South Africa | Working | September 21, 2014

(I am working a busy dinner shift at a steak restaurant. Normally steaks are sold without sauce, and we are encouraged by management to try and sell sauces with steak, obviously increasing the amount diners are spending. I am serving several tables at once, and starting to spin a little. My manager has been breathing down my neck all night about selling sauces. I finally manage to convince two diners to buy a sauce each. After serving the steaks to the couple, I leave their table, momentarily forgetting about the sauces. I am at the grill calling on steaks for another table, when the manager comes pounding towards me.)

Manager: *in a lowered, but angry voice* “Where the h*** are table 30’s sauces?!”

Me: “I’m sorry. I forgot for a moment. I will get them immediately.”

(The sauces are kept in a bain-marie, and are extremely hot. In my rush to pour sauces into small ramekins, using a large metal ladle, I accidentally spill some of the boiling hot sauces on my hand. I’m in shock, and drop the ramekin, spilling sauce on myself and the general working area. The manager, standing on the opposite side of the counter, can see something is wrong, and rushes over.)

Me: *thinking he is coming to help me* “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’ll just put my hand under some cold water.” *my hand is red and hurting*

Manager: *glaring at me* “No! It is not okay! Your table is still waiting for their sauces!”

(He pushes me out of the way, pours the sauces, and slams the ladle down.)

Me: *stunned silence*

Manager: *plucking cleaning rag from the pocket of my apron* “Clean this mess up, and get those steaks out you just called on!” *rushes off with sauces, smiling sweetly at customers*

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