Chefs are Heroes

My Hero

I've just had one of those rather depressing early evenings: scrapping kids with wailing and tears topped by a super-calorific stodgy supper chosen to cheer up the boys and add another 5kgs to their moribund mother's hips. The boys are now watching Rio, I'm on the internet and things are calming down.

Why?

Because Thursday evening for us is like a Monday. The good times have gone as Tyler disappears off on his mega-shift until Monday evening and he gets to work 3 nights in a row (Thurs, Fri & Sat) with the double whammy of a Sat Night/Sunday Day Shift Combo (he gets home at   1:30am Sunday morning and is up again at 4:30am). You try and keep that up month after month after month. Believe me it's a super-human effort and I only get to moan about it, not even stand on my feet for 2 days straight with 3 hours sleep in between.

Tyler, as you know, is the very last person to feel hard done by and will be appalled that I'm even posting this, but I just feel quite strongly for all those millions of chefs around the world who work these insane hours, get paid absolute peanuts and never see their families. Apart from the 2 weekends we had last summer holiday, Tyler has not spent a single full weekend with his boys since we have lived on the island, which is almost 18 months (and this is someone who actually likes spiritual duty on a Sunday). He has worked through Easter, Christmas Day, New Years Day and hurricanes and until his back finally conked out last week, had not missed a day.

So I'm getting my soap box and megaphone out for all the hotel owners out there (yes that includes you BILL MARRIOTT): When are you going to realise that your value largely depends on your restaurants and that your chefs are your greatest assets? Apart from the TV prima-donnas and the rockstars featured in Food & Wine (all of whom would have paid their dues, mind you), 98% of chefs are of the incredibly-long-hours variety, working in every kitchen of every restaurant you ever eat in, not seeing their families over the weekends.

Have you noticed that when someone works a tough job with long hours and little pay, it's suddenly called a 'vocation'? Why is it that the very people who keep as safe, feed us, teach us and nurse us are not paid like investment bankers - whose contribution to society is minimal, at best, and is certainly not in line with their compensation. 'Why Mommy?' as William would say, "Why?"

Anyway, I'll pack away my little soapbox now and get back to my website designs, cash flows and heads of terms which are going to sail us out of this miserable state of affairs. The bakery building is coming along nicely, but has sadly been pushed back to May : (

Last night (Sunday/Wednesday) we had sundowners on the deck of our new house with camping chairs & coolbox as we watched the sun set in chocolate box glory. We will now be living on the north side of the island (we only have Pink Hour on the southside) and we are so looking forward to it.