My first real job was working at Commander’s Palace, which I started doing my last year of college.
I needed to make good money and I heard that the pay at Commander’s was really good, and that they paid you every day right after work in cash.
But part of what made it my first “real job” is that I got the job without any references.
When I applied for the job, I was just another clueless college kid. I could tell they assumed I was a spoiled kid who had never done any real work.
And while I hadn’t really thought of myself that way, the truth was, I was spoiled and hadn’t done any real work before.
I got hired at Commander’s not because I had any useful skills. But because I was a warm body who agreed to start working right away.
They told me to go home, put on black pants, black shoes, and a white shirt. When I came back an hour later they gave me a black jacket and a green clip on tie.
The waiters wore black ties, but I was starting out as a “runner.” So, I had to wear a green tie.
Most runners washed out quickly because the work was fast paced, and no one bothered to explain how you were supposed to do your work.
The whole time you’re trying to figure it out, you were screwing up. And always being yelled at.
All I knew was that I was supposed to bring food from the kitchen to other parts of the restaurant and return the dishes to the dishwashing station.
Knowing how to move through the kitchen was an incredibly important skill.
But I didn’t know how to do this.
So, I’d constantly be in someone else’s way: someone with more experience, someone doing more important work, or someone more established.
Like one of the owners, for example.
When I screwed up, people would glance at my green tie and roll their eyes. The green tie sent a clear, simple signal that said “don’t bother with this guy. He’s clueless and will be gone soon.”
But they were wrong.
I stuck it out. And kept showing up. Not out of some stoic character trait.
But because I needed the money. Desperately.
I had no other job opportunities, and my dad had made it clear I was going to have to pay for my living expenses myself.
So, I put up with the yelling, the ridicule, and the disdain. I gave up expecting any guidance, or encouragement.
If I did my job without screwing up, no one rolled their eyes.
But if I grabbed a plate from the food line before the final garnish had been added, I’d get a swift bonk on the head by the fat chef’s cane.
The chef couldn’t move easily so he stood by the food station so he was in the best position for assaulting waiters and runners.
Paul Prudhomme was a world-renowned chef. And his cane was quite ornate.
It was also hefty. And it always made a dull thump when it landed on my head.
Eventually, Prudhomme moved on to open up his own restaurant, and I moved up to become a waiter.
I made more money as a waiter, which was nice. But more importantly, I learned how to deal with people who had really high expectations.
I learned how to figure things out in a hostile, pressure-filled environment.
To the patrons of Commanders I was just a thin college kid with a rumpled jacket and a clip on tie. But as long as I helped them have a good time they’d give me a strong compliment.
Which in the world of waiters is known as the 20% tip.
I needed to make good money and I heard that the pay at Commander’s was really good, and that they paid you every day right after work in cash.
But part of what made it my first “real job” is that I got the job without any references.
When I applied for the job, I was just another clueless college kid. I could tell they assumed I was a spoiled kid who had never done any real work.
And while I hadn’t really thought of myself that way, the truth was, I was spoiled and hadn’t done any real work before.
I got hired at Commander’s not because I had any useful skills. But because I was a warm body who agreed to start working right away.
They told me to go home, put on black pants, black shoes, and a white shirt. When I came back an hour later they gave me a black jacket and a green clip on tie.
The waiters wore black ties, but I was starting out as a “runner.” So, I had to wear a green tie.
Most runners washed out quickly because the work was fast paced, and no one bothered to explain how you were supposed to do your work.
The whole time you’re trying to figure it out, you were screwing up. And always being yelled at.
All I knew was that I was supposed to bring food from the kitchen to other parts of the restaurant and return the dishes to the dishwashing station.
Knowing how to move through the kitchen was an incredibly important skill.
But I didn’t know how to do this.
So, I’d constantly be in someone else’s way: someone with more experience, someone doing more important work, or someone more established.
Like one of the owners, for example.
When I screwed up, people would glance at my green tie and roll their eyes. The green tie sent a clear, simple signal that said “don’t bother with this guy. He’s clueless and will be gone soon.”
But they were wrong.
I stuck it out. And kept showing up. Not out of some stoic character trait.
But because I needed the money. Desperately.
I had no other job opportunities, and my dad had made it clear I was going to have to pay for my living expenses myself.
So, I put up with the yelling, the ridicule, and the disdain. I gave up expecting any guidance, or encouragement.
If I did my job without screwing up, no one rolled their eyes.
But if I grabbed a plate from the food line before the final garnish had been added, I’d get a swift bonk on the head by the fat chef’s cane.
The chef couldn’t move easily so he stood by the food station so he was in the best position for assaulting waiters and runners.
Paul Prudhomme was a world-renowned chef. And his cane was quite ornate.
It was also hefty. And it always made a dull thump when it landed on my head.
Eventually, Prudhomme moved on to open up his own restaurant, and I moved up to become a waiter.
I made more money as a waiter, which was nice. But more importantly, I learned how to deal with people who had really high expectations.
I learned how to figure things out in a hostile, pressure-filled environment.
To the patrons of Commanders I was just a thin college kid with a rumpled jacket and a clip on tie. But as long as I helped them have a good time they’d give me a strong compliment.
Which in the world of waiters is known as the 20% tip.