Workplace Trauma

Last week my Memories on Facebook reminded me of the time (11 years ago) that my wife had meningitis and spent over a week in the hospital. Today was the day she got to come home.

Each year I think about how poorly I was treated by a manager and a company that I gave everything to for nearly 15 years. There were many moments that I was treated less than human, but this specific incident has stuck with me.

As a family, we had to quarantine for days to make sure none of us had contracted it as well. When I told work that I couldn’t be there due to the possibility that I could infect everyone I came into contact, I was questioned, ridiculed, and made to feel awful. Yelled at and my job threatened by my superior because he would be inconvenienced and have to make some changes to run the floor/bar.

I believed him. I thought I was an awful employee that was letting his co-workers down. I hung on to that for years. I was already suffering from anxiety, but this would throw it into a full-blown disorder that would still rear its ugly head many years later.

The worst part of it all is, he constantly preached how we were one big family that looks out for one another. It’s a line used by managers all over this country and it’s the biggest bunch of horseshit. It’s manipulation at its finest. I have a network of true friends and family that help and support each other no matter the circumstance. We don’t hold a grudge, nor do we owe each other anything for helping out.

Which brings me to “you owe me”, which is yet another manipulation tactic used to make you think you are indebted to this person for a lifetime because they gave you Friday night off. GTFOH!

I wish I had my amazing therapist back then. I wish I knew my self-worth back then. I wish I stood up for myself and told that company to fuck off 10 years sooner.

The restaurant industry needs turned upside down and big changes need to happen now. In 15 years, I never received a single promotion. I asked for more opportunities but was turned down. Why? I believe I was too valuable. My words, not theirs. I could serve, bartend, host, bus tables, manage, do dishes, and jump on the line to cook when needed. You’d think with such a versatile employee, you might pay them better. Again, a lack of self-worth.

Imagine running around a restaurant at peak dinner hour, for hours without a break, dealing with shitty customers, to then spend a couple hours cleaning your section, doing daily and weekly side work, and polishing/rolling silverware. Oh, and for those 2 hours, you’ll be paid server wage, not minimum wage. Somewhere around 3-4 bucks an hour.

Don’t dare speak out against this or else your hours will be cut or you’ll be given the shittiest section in the restaurant.

In 15 years, I took only a handful of paid vacations. The most I ever made was $125 for being gone for 5 workdays. The price of being a tipped employee, I guess. No sick days, no personal days, no benefits until the last year I was there and that was because of the laws being put in place. We were even encouraged to vote for the conservatives because a vote for democrat would certainly close the restaurant and we would be out of a job. Pretty sure that’s borderline illegal.

Now that I have left that life behind me, with no plans to ever return, I would love to see changes to the industry. Some ideas to start:

• Do away with tipping. I realize the restaurant will just raise their prices, but you’re going to pay for it either way. At least now your server won’t get screwed out of a tip from people that refuse. This doesn’t mean you can’t tip; it simply means the restaurant should be paying their employees a livable wage. This cannot be put in place until everyone is on the same page. Until then, tip your damn server!

• Offer employees paid sick and personal days.

• Offer employees a decent paid vacation so they can afford to be gone for a week.

• Once your last table leaves you clock out of server mode and back in as a regularly paid employee, since you’re done serving.

The restaurant industry as a whole, treats their employees like shit, pays them like shit, and profits off their ridiculously hard work, only to pretend they aren’t making money. How can you not make money on a $30 bowl of pasta and a $12 well martini from a vodka that cost $10 a bottle?

It’s all a huge lie. Think about this the next time your server looks overwhelmed and out of sorts, because they are. And that friendly manager that sits at your table tells you the restaurant is a family, is full of shit and would likely beat his employees if he could get away with it.

Rant over….

For now.

Deep Six

A sacrifice to better the mind

A chance to free the hive

To strive and thrive

In a free state of mind

Live among the trees

With no one to please

Quiet and shaded

Cold and faded

Returning to earth

Back roads home

In a cosmic rebirth

Lost and unfound

In a deep six shroud

A spot in the dirt

With insects to flirt

Sing with crows

Where the flowers grow

And firefly’s glow

Returning to earth

Back roads home

In a cosmic rebirth

Lost and unfound

In a deep six shroud

Keybored

I put my fingers to the keys

Hoping for inspiration

Praying for resolutions

Words come out

But they don’t convey

Delete them all

They don’t matter anyway

Backspace is worn

The print half gone

Along with the letters W-H-and Y

With L-O-V- and E

Fading away

Like a ship

Headed to sea

Scrambled, jumbled

Full of shame

Regret

Loss

Constant mental pain

It’s all a blur

Not worth the cost

Insecure

Wander-lost

Wonder-lost

Ponder-lost

Just lost

Can I Get a Ramen

Alright noshers, I’m back with another delicious recipe that none of you asked for. Much like you, it’s simple, cheap, and delicious! I can’t take credit for this masterpiece, but I do make it quite often. It comes from Chef Roy Choi. If you’ve ever seen the movie or the series “Chef”, you’ll recognize him. He’s the brains behind the operation with loads of unique talent.

This ridiculously easy dish starts out with a single pack of ramen noodles with that little pack of magic soup dust. That little msg packed foil pouch is important, so don’t lose it. You’re also going to need a chicken egg (preferably, unfertilized) and 2 slices of American cheese. Trust me! Don’t go gettin’ all fancy and trying to use a better cheese. Nothing melts like American singles. Fight me. You will also need toasted sesame seeds. I used to toast my own until I found out you can buy them already toasted! I know, right?! No need to complicate things. The last two things you’ll need are a pat of butter and some sliced scallions, green end only. That’s green onions for you culinary deficient folks.

Now, this isn’t fancy ramen like the kind you get at some bougie place in downtown Ann Arbor, that you waaaay overpaid for. This is sustenance. This is life. This feeds your soul.

You’re gonna start off by boiling 2 cups of H2O and cooking the noods according to the package. I believe it’s 3 minutes. Let’s just go with that. Here’s a pro tip: Break up the noodles while they’re still in the pack. Makes life easier. And who doesn’t want easier, amirite?! Dump that freeze-dried pack of pasta (that looks like Justin Timberlake’s hair circa 1995) into the pan and add that concentrated powder pack of flavor and stir to combine. The instructions say to do it at the end. But they’re wrong and I’m right.

When there’s 30 seconds or so left on the timer you forgot to set, toss in that butta and crack that egg right into the water. Fold some of the noodles over the egg and let it poach. Now turn off the burner. I like to break the yolk almost immediately and stir it right into the soup, or you can leave it whole and let it continue to cook. This is your slop to eat, so you do you, boo!

If you’ve made it this far, congratulations. It’s time to transfer this scorching hot goodness to a bowl. I prefer a bowl over a plate, because it’s a bowl and bowls are good for things like soup. Plates are not. I also find it helpful if you don’t burn yourself during this process. Once you have it in your vessel of choice, slap those two pieces of American processed plastic that we talked about earlier, right on top. I know this goes against everything you’ve ever learned about cooking soup. You must trust me. Have I ever let you down before? If you know me, then the answer would be yes, but that’s a topic that only my therapist is privy to.

As the “cheese” begins to melt, you will start to understand the beauty of this uncomplicated dish. Sprinkle the top with those toasted sesame seeds and the green onion. I like to add a little (a lot) sriracha to mine or if I’m really hating myself, I’ll add a few dashes of Bravado’s A.K.A Miso Ghost-Reaper sauce. This stuff is seriously hot and will give you something to cry about other than your life choices.

It’s time to stir up this crazy concoction and get to slurping! I prefer to use one of those deep spoons you find at Asian restaurants. You can get them online for souper cheap. Chop sticks are another option, but I’m not coordinated enough for that noise.

This dish represents comfort. If food could wrap you up and give you a big hug, this is what would do it. If you suffer from depression, you will still suffer depression after eating it. It’s food, not bourbon. So, build a blanket pillow fort, put on your most comfortable clothes, (as if you weren’t already in them), que up Good Girls on Netflix and remember that a happy belly is a happy mind.

Bone Apple Teeth!

The Depressed Chef

What’s the Point?!?!

This life can seriously fuck right off. Nothing you do matters, nor does anyone give 2 shits. People don’t want you to grow, they just want you to fit into their preconceived notions of what you should be. They have expectations and when you don’t meet them, you are cast aside like yesterday’s garbage. They say they have your back and will be there through everything good or bad, but it’s a fucking lie. This society doesn’t want to put the work in to fix anything. Why fix what’s broke when you can just trash it and get something new?! No one considers what someone else is going through. Empathy and sympathy have left the building and they took kindness and love with them. Some of us just weren’t meant for this world. It’s a cruel and desolate existence and then you die.

Why?

Words can’t describe

Written or otherwise

This pain in my heart

The tears in my eyes


There is no consoling

Nothing you can say

To rid this agonizing

Emotional cloudy day


I go back to sleep

Hopeful I was dreaming

Instead a nightmare

Where I can’t stop screaming


Paying for sins

That never existed

Torture endured

Never enlisted


How do I trust

How can I believe

When all you do

Is try to take them from me


In times of strife

Alone I stand

You were supposed to be

The footprints in the sand

http://www.rnadolny.com

(non)Toxic

Toxins run deep
Like rapids they flow
Churning the river
Wreaking havoc below

After the storm
Comes the soothing stream
Pastoral and kind
Commodity of a dream

Defining the course
To a path of regret
Chasing a dragon
Into the looming sunset

The dark will fall soon
No direction in sight
The glow of the moon
Brings creatures of the night

The same ol’ beasts
Along the waters edge
Part of the poison
The reason for a dredge

Searching the shores
For something to row
To escape the grip
Of an exhausting undertow

Beginning to shallow
Less of a fight to face
Who will reach out
Save me with their embrace

Where has everyone gone
They left on a whim
Up to me to decide
Whether I sink or I swim