Normally this blog is reserved for fun stories and my hobbies, but I want to write about something that means a lot to me. That is mental health. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I have been struggling with Social Anxiety and Depression for quite some time, particularly in the last few years. Obviously, it had has an effect on my life a great deal, both professionally and personally. I have been a cook for 18 years, and that in and of itself can lead to mental health issues. The fact that I came out of it alive and not addicted to alcohol or drugs (unless you count insulin) is nothing short of a miracle.
Although I was officially diagnosed with Social Anxiety at
31 24, I suspected it started very early in my life. I was always overly shy, I didn't have a lot of friends and I never showed an interest in any groups or sports (apparently when I was 5 years old, my parents wanted to put me in hockey school, but I flat out refused). My social skills seemed to be underdeveloped in retrospect.
When I was 10, I was enrolled in a karate class, but that was an absolute disaster. The teacher was a sadistic bully and constantly called out students that didn't seem to grasp what was going on, including yours truly. If that happened later in my life, I would've just told him to go forth and multiply. But when you are just a child, you don't have those skills to defend yourself. It definitely had an effect on me as I still have a hard time coping in large groups like that. I have tried playing ball hockey, but it seems like there are always a few people who either take it too seriously or don't care, and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It's not fun when you are getting chewed out for a bad play or you didn't make that save, and so on. In short, it has contributed to my anxiety and I am now taking a break from it.
I was never exactly "Joe Cool" in school either. It wasn't until my later high school years that I seemed to have found my place and a good circle of friends who I still keep in touch with to this day. It was then I was diagnosed with depression, thanks to some prodding from a very sympathetic teacher. My marks were very poor the last few years, because I hated school and I just wanted to get the hell out of there.
Around that time, I also started my first job at Montana's. I was hired as a part time dishwasher during my final year of high school. At first it was a real struggle. It was my first time interacting with people who actually wanted to get to know me and help me succeed, as opposed to dealing with a bunch of snooty rich kids from Manotick, or pot-headed gangster wannabes from Gloucester (sometimes, the truth hurts). Not to mention a lot of the girls who worked there were nice to look at as well. As I said earlier, I struggled quite a bit. The fast-paced environment was tough enough to deal with. Add Social Anxiety to that, and it's usually a recipe for absolute disaster. A lot of the time, I didn't even make it through the full shift and would have to leave early. But then, people actually started believing in me. They encouraged me to do better, and I did. I would eventually make it out of the dish room and become a full time cook due to some talent and hard work (I think it was more of the latter than the former). From there, I would (or at least I felt) become a key, versatile, and trusted person in the kitchen. I trained many staff and Managers while doing their training program, many of whom moved up or on to much success. I still keep in touch with many of these people to this day, as I built (in most cases) long and trusting friendships. Unfortunately, that's really the only time I was able to do so.
One thing you must know about the food service industry is that it can, and in most cases will, chew you up and spit you out. It is incredibly stressful and takes a lot of energy out of you, as you often have to work 10-14 fours in a day, and have to deal with psychotic, hot tempered chefs, and drama-queen food service managers who have had no proper training, or no management or people skills. Fortunately at Montana's, most of that was minimal. It's no coincidence that we are seeing Chefs and food service workers, most notably Anthony Bourdain, take their own lives or succumb to a life of hard core drugs or alcoholism. Every kitchen job I have had, I witnessed all of this first hand. Many, including former Chefs I worked for and learned from in College, would somewhat jokingly ask me how I was able to function without drugs, alcohol, or even caffeine. I honestly didn't have an answer. Maybe it was me seeing how it destroyed the lives of some people I cared about, self discipline, or my parents possibly kicking my ass if I ever went near the stuff. Whatever the case, I think because I was feeling fucked up enough as it was, I didn't need anything to enhance it.
The next job I had after "escaping from the cookhouse" was at a retirement home. During my 8 month tenure, we went through 3 Food Service managers. After the second manager got canned, I had a heart to heart talk with the Executive Director. I told her how things were going, how I wasn't trained properly, and how I had yet to see a single recipe. I was new out of school, and I was still feeling my way. She sympathized with me and appreciated the hard work I put in, and having the courage to talk to her about it. She said the new Service Manager would work with me and help me improve. It didn't take long to see that was a blatant lie. I had worked with the Service Manager when she was a server, and was never pleasant. As a manager, she was worse. She didn't do any work, and expected me to do everything, without proper training. Also, the Executive Director always took her side, likely because she didn't want to fire another Food Service Manager and look bad in the process. I eventually gave my notice and found another job. On my last day, the Executive Director came up to me and said, "Thank you for your hard work and effort. I'm sorry things didn't work out. You just weren't trained properly." I turned to her and said, "And that's my fault?" She clearly felt bad as she knew this was pretty much her fault and I was taking the fall (though I'm sure I wasn't without sin). Unfortunately, the apology was too little, too late.
My next job was as a First Cook (eventually promoted to Sous-Chef) and I worked with a Service Manager. Things were good at first as it seemed like a fun place to work. That changed in a hurry. Much like the previous Service Manager I dealt with, she did minimal work and berated and screamed at staff in front of people, including customers. She even snapped at customers a few times. How she kept her job, I don't know. Eventually, I was laid off due to lack of business, so she said. She also would not give me my Record of Employment, and kept dodging me every time I tried to inquire about it. It wasn't until I got my local Member of Parliament involved, and threatened legal action that I received it. It was then that I started to lose my passion for cooking.
I took two part time jobs next, one at a restaurant, the other at a children's hospital. I lasted at the former for about two months, after dealing with a bunch of Gordon Ramsey wannabes who showed me nothing and disrespected me on a daily basis. It was a very loud, hostile environment as well with people constantly yelling at each other. The last straw was them scheduling me on a day where I was working at the hospital (and told me to get it covered), and a day I booked off in advance. I came in and told the Sous Chef I was fed up with them and left.
During my time at the hospital, I was still fighting with a former employer about my Record of Employment and medication issues, which led me to burn out. The job was demanding, having to work 12 hour days at a hectic pace. I eventually had to go on sick leave and quit due to health reasons. It was then I should've realized that I had to make a career change due to on going physical and mental health issues. Unfortunately, money talks. When you have bills to pay, you have to do what you have to do. Retrospectively, yes I should've handled it differently.
I took a grill cooking job at another cafeteria thinking that a reduced workload would be helpful. It was a bad fit from the start. The Chef was incompetent (and was subsequently fired two weeks later for having a shouting match with a cook in front of customers), and the co-workers were angry, sarcastic, bitter people. I never felt welcomed and it seemed like I was a burden since I had to pull teeth to get help with something. I pretty much did what I was told to do by the Chef, but took the fall when things weren't working out. He asked about my health issues too, and I told him what was going on, and he treated me like I was some pill-popping addict. I was eventually demoted to part time because we didn't see eye to eye.
After that hell hole, I became a catering cook at a private school. I was scheduled for eight straight days right off the bat. I was in charge of the baking, as well as helping the incompetent (and former) Sous Chef, and deli person. In other words, I was doing three people's jobs. Add to that, I was working for a lazy, fat-ass Chef, who gave me zero help, and a psychotic tempered Food Service Manager. After the school year was over, there was an opening for a deli cook and I asked the Chef if I could apply for the job, and he said no because he needed as the Catering Cook. I then asked for some help, after being promised throughout the year I would get some, and he also refused. After I quit, they hired two people to do my job. As bad as things were while I was there, they were worse after I left. The work environment became even more hostile, and the Chef did even less work, which I didn't think was possible. He was let go three years later, and the Sous Chef was, rightfully, promoted, and things improved drastically.
I then took a job at a cafeteria, beginning as a breakfast cook. I got to know the customers very well, and developed friendships with some that I still keep in touch with. It was better than some of my past jobs, though that's really not much of a compliment. At first it was a fun place to work and after pleading with her repeatedly, I was moved to work with the Chef in the back. Then after two failed attempts, and without my consent, I was made Catering Manager. I was given no training, and was screamed at every day. The two previous workers failed miserably, so I guess she hoped for a miracle. My assistants were also useless, and weren't much help. Things got so bad, I quit to work in a bakery. I never said to her I wasn't happy, and that I wanted to learn the baking trade, which is partially true. After four shifts, I was fired from the bakery and never paid for my shifts. I had no choice but to ask for my job back. Things were much worse when I returned. The Service Manager never communicated what she wanted or how she wanted it done, which sometimes led to disastrous results. The next day we had a meeting with the District Manager, and we had it out. She commented that the District Manager didn't want to hire me back, but she went to bat for me, which I feel was a blatant lie.
A couple of weeks later, I saw my Doctor. He took one look at me and said, "If you want to make it to 40, get out of kitchens, now." I was 37 at the time, and it really shook me up. I haven't worked in a kitchen since then.
A couple of months later, I got a job as a housekeeper that was well paying, thanks to a ton of help from my long-time Employment Coach. One Supervisor tried to fire me after one training shift, because I wasn't keeping up. They knew about my mental health issues and I think it played a part. My Employment Coach went to bat for me, but I think it created a rift between me and a couple of people. I had to let that go eventually as well, because my anxiety played up again. In retrospect, I think I may have jumped the gun and tried to get back into the work force too soon. When your Doctor pretty much tells you, "Change careers or you might die," 8 weeks probably isn't long enough to find yourself.
I am now in the process of going back to school for an accounting course, in the hopes of opening a small baking business. I know I said I didn't want to cook again, but at least this time it won't be under anyone else. It will also be small and not so hectic. Failing that, I can go for something Monday to Friday in an office somewhere. I can't take shift work, or on call work anymore.
Now I am seeing more awareness of mental health in the kitchen industry, but I don't think it has changed much since I left the industry. They're having trouble hiring and keeping people, so they are trying to change the thinking of the "Angry Chef" regime. As I stated earlier, this industry has taken a lot of lives and has destroyed people's confidence, including mine, to the point where I can't really function properly. I also don't really have anything to show for my almost 20 years in the industry.
It can be a little sad to see people who I have trained, worked with, and worked for doing very well with their lives, but I also take some pride knowing that I may have played a part in their success somewhere along the way and that they appreciate what I did for them. I try to tell myself that life is a journey and not a destination, but when you're 38 years old, you wonder how much track you have left.
As much as I want to pour gasoline on the last 20 years and strike a match to it, I did learn a lot and made a lot of trusting friendships that I will always treasure. I want to thank everyone who gave me the courage to open up about my struggles, both past and present. I hope doing so will help others do the same and break the stigma of mental health in the work place, particularly the cooking industry which can be downright cruel to the strongest of people.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you all for your continued support.
