Seems Like Auld Lang Signe

August 20, 2008 at 11:27 PM | Posted in Riding In Cars With Pizza | Leave a comment
  I’ve…adjusted…to being a part time assistant manager.  Man, that’s long.  Let’s shorten it up.  A par-ti ass-man.  That’s about right. 
  I took to making pizzas again like a duck takes to cocaine.  The rest of it–?
  Everyone has their management "style," and I have mine.  It came to maturity last night.  We were slow as hell, and I read a book.  What am I gonna do, clean?  That’s humorous.  The restaurant business in general isn’t like this, but far and wide the pizza business is.  Of course there are exceptions, but the statistically, this is how it is: 

    In a pizaa delivery store, 90% of your business is between 5p and 7p.  Of that 90, 50-70% is on Friday between 5p and 7p.  So stop calling and asking where your fucking pizza is.  You know where it is.  It’s on its goddamn way.

  I’m training an FNG, a new assistant.  Explaining things to him allows me to remember stuff.  Stuff like this:  there are three parts to operations:  Prepping for the rush, handling the rush, and cleaning up after the rush.  That’s all there is.  "Handle The Rush" is–or was and should still be–the mantra at Domino’s.  Why, when we had the 30-minute guarantee back in the–
  Oh, jeez, would you *please* shut up.
  But one of the things you do to handle the rush is prep for it, and since everything comes in pre-made, pre-packaged, and pre-chewed, prep doesn’t take very much time unless you’re doing something horribly wrong.  Clean up is the same.  So the job is a dichotomy (man, am I glad I was able to work that high-dollar word in) of blood-shooting-out-of-your-eyes boredom and sweat-and-cardiac-arrest-producing panic…aka The Rush.
  Now of course the bosses don’t want to see you doing nothing.  You should be busy all the time.  Right.  I’m of the school that believes in working smarter, not harder.  If "smarter" means working less, then all the better.
  Obviously, on a Friday night I’m going to work harder.  Might even work my ass off.  But typically on a Monday, 4p to midnight–eight hours–I’m going to do no more than 4 hours worth of work.  Absolute tops would be five.  The problem is, you have to be there the entire eight hours, waiting for those five hours’ worth of work.
  When I was driving there, I was working with Stan.  He’s a nice guy, but a bit off.  Aren’t we all?  But he’s just strange about some things.  On Friday night when we close at 2a, there have been times when I left at 330a, and he’s still there.  Not in a hurry AT ALL.  Fuck.  Man, once we are closed, I want to go home.  He wants to do extra cleaning projects.  Fuck that completely.  I stll have the mentality from when I was a manager.  I was on salary.  My feeling was, anything after close I was essentially doing for free.  I don’t do free.  I am now into my second week as an assistant, and so far the latest I have walked out is 20 minutes after closing.  Usually it’s about 7-10 minutes.  I get done, I don’t fuck around.  The drivers are happy with it too.  We get done, we get out.
  I’m sure it won’t always be that way, but as often as I can I’m going to make it that way.  Especially during the week, when I have to get up early the next day.  Having the down time last night reminded me of the old days, having down time.  There’s plenty to do, but plenty of time to sit around, too.  I ate, read, had a smoke, and then started cleaning up.
  And by the way, if you have time to sit out back and smoke a cigar that takes over twenty minutes, and the phone doesn’t ring at all–
  Well, as I pontificated last night.  If I was the owner or even the manager, being the that slow would be a bad thing, because you want to be busy, you want to be making money.  But I’m paid by the hour regardless of business.  In a purely pragmatic sense, I only want to be busy enough to stay open.
  The fringe benefits of the place are nice, and that’s another reason I like it.  Let’s run them all down, shall we?
  a) like I said, I don’t work too hard
  2) free food.  I usually bring home a pizza every night
  d) that might be it.

  But since I’m easy to please and have had all sense of privilege and expectation beaten from me by my ex wife and other restaurant jobs I’ve had…this is enough.

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