(dis)respect

So we're a few months in at school and everyone is all settled in and we're all the best of friends and we study together and cook together and share recipes and talk about food. I mean, that seems normal, right? Yeah, that's what I thought, too. Turns out I was wrong.

I can't for the life of me fathom why anyone would choose to attend one of the top ranked culinary schools in the world and NOT take it seriously. I mean, if your plan is to sleep in, smoke as much weed as possible, come to school hungover, unprepared, with no recipe cards, having done no studying... why fucking bother? Just quit and stop dragging me down. You're not only making yourself look bad, but I worry about where you'll end up if you manage to graduate. You're going to make the school look bad. In turn, that means you'll make ME look bad, and I'm working my fucking ass off because this is my life. I'm 30 goddamn years old. I don't have time to fuck around with this anymore. I waited until I was almost 30 to make the gut-wrenching decision to change everything about my life and give up a career I'd started almost 10 years prior to follow my dream. So? I'm taking it seriously. You should, too.

Have some respect. Don't show up bragging about how drunk you got last night. Or how much coke you scored after the bar closed. Or how much pot you smoked this morning to come down off your high. Or how you feel sick. Or didn't study. Stop making excuses for yourself and just quit. Because I'm tired of it. And I can guarantee you, "Uh, what are we doing today? What's a bearnaise again?" only flies when you're paying for the privilege of coming to class. Any chef worth working for would put up with your shit for 30 seconds before kicking you so hard in the ass that you can't find work within 100 miles.

But, at the same time, I want to thank you. Thank you for preparing me to work with morons like you who will surely get stuck and settle for mediocrity. Let's face it, every kitchen needs a prep bitch. Or a no-talent hack of a mouth-breather who never gets a chance to hit the line, even on a Wednesday when you're only averaging 30 covers. Thanks for getting the hell out of my way so that I can move up. Thank you for giving me insight into real "stupid" so that I know how I should phrase it when you wake up one day and ask how I became sous chef and you're not even being put on the line.

Thanks. Now go mince 5lbs of shallots for me. I've got work to do. Asshole.