{"id":200,"date":"2021-11-03T13:27:21","date_gmt":"2021-11-03T17:27:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/thebigsea\/?post_type=chapter&p=200"},"modified":"2022-01-28T10:38:48","modified_gmt":"2022-01-28T15:38:48","slug":"chef-one-eye","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/chapter\/chef-one-eye\/","title":{"raw":"Chef One-Eye","rendered":"Chef One-Eye"},"content":{"raw":"

That spring Bruce of the one eye had become very temperamental, often threatening to quit\u2014for lack of respect, he said. If it hadn\u2019t been for him, he declared, after Florence left there would have been no trade at all\u2014since the customers who continued to come to the Grand Duc now came only to eat his food. Yet, Bruce said, the management put up in big letters the names of various knock-kneed tap dancers and a male soprano as the featured attractions, and never mentioned the name of the chef in any of their publicity. Bruce\u2019s feelings were hurt and, before Bricktop came, he would sometimes roll his one big eye ominously and look toward the French proprietor at the caisse or the Negro manager at the door, as though he could cut them in two. Then he would go out to a corner bistro and drink a whole bottle of black rum. Often he would come back rolling drunk and sit down in the coal box\u2014which made it very difficult for me to keep the fire going. He sat in the coal box, he said, because it would not be right for him to occupy the only chair in the kitchen all the evening\u2014since, when he got drunk, he meant to sit down a long<\/span> time. So he politely left the chair to me.<\/p>\r\n

One night, the French proprietor decided to fire Bruce, his salary being high and the income of the place low, and Bruce\u2019s temper that week having been surlier than ever. So the boss came back with his pay, and told Bruce in polite French that he wouldn\u2019t need him any more.<\/p>\r\n

Bruce said: \u201cY quoi<\/span>?\u201d<\/p>\r\n

The boss said: \u201cOui<\/span>, you may go right now, if you like. I\u2019m tired of your impudence and that frown of yours you carry all the time.\u201d<\/p>\r\n

Bruce said: \u201cAlors?<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\r\n

The boss said: \u201cAllez!<\/span>\u201d and went back to his cash desk behind the bar, leaving Bruce\u2019s money on the kitchen table.<\/p>\r\n

Bruce was a very big fellow, six feet or so, and in his white apron and tall chef\u2019s hat he looked even bigger. The white hat made his huge dark face stand out like a round Dixie moon. And tonight, with its single eye, it looked like a moon in a cyclone cloud, as he regarded the money on the table.<\/p>\r\n

Silently, Bruce selected the longest of the butcher knives from the kitchen rack. He calmly parted the red curtains that separated the kitchen and pantry from the club proper. He walked slowly across the dance floor, where a few couples were dancing as the band played. Then he stopped at the cash desk at the end of the bar and calmly raised the butcher knife as he demanded of the boss, \u201cNow, qu\u2019est-ce que vous voulez, m\u2019sieu?<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\r\n

The Frenchman looked up and saw the knife descending. He dived beneath the bar.<\/p>\r\n

The colored manager rushed up to Bruce and said: \u201cSay! You\u2019re fired! Get out of here.\u201d<\/p>\r\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d said Bruce, brandishing the knife. \u201cWho\u2019s fired? Do you want some of this, too?\u201d<\/p>\r\n

The manager backed right on out into the street.<\/p>\r\n

Bruce then went without haste around behind the bar, which move sent the proprietor and the bartender leaping for safety over the counter, across the dance floor and out the door. His long knife gleamed. The customers fled. The danseuses screamed. The house emptied. By this time Bruce had the place to himself, except for the orchestra, that stopped playing to laugh.<\/p>\r\n

Bruce then calmly returned to the kitchen, put the butcher knife back in the rack, and sat down. \u201cJim, did you see me?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\r\n

\u201cI saw you, Bruce,\u201d I said. \u201cYou really did your stuff.\u201d<\/p>\r\n

\u201cTalking about I\u2019m fired<\/span>!\u201d he snorted indignantly. \u201cYou saw who<\/span> left here, didn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\r\n

\u201cThe boss!\u201d I said.<\/p>\r\n

\u201cAnd all his assistants, little and big! Lit out and gone!\u201d He rolled his one good eye and it rested on me. \u201cBut we still here, ain\u2019t we?\u201d<\/p>\r\n

\u201cWe\u2019re right here,\u201d I said.<\/p>\r\n

\u201cAnd here we\u2019ll be,\u201d he affirmed. \u201cLife\u2019s a bitch, but I\u2019ll beat it\u2014and stay here, too.\u201d<\/p>\r\n

His final statement was absolutely correct.<\/p>\r\n

The piano player went out and told the boss Bruce had quieted down. The manager came back in from the street, and Bruce was not fired. And that is how I got my job as a waiter, because, the following week, when they wanted to discharge me, saying they couldn\u2019t afford two men in the kitchen with business so bad, Bruce said: \u201cIf he goes, I go! And I\u2019ll go mad! Give him a job as a waiter.\u201d So I got a job as a waiter.<\/p>","rendered":"

That spring Bruce of the one eye had become very temperamental, often threatening to quit\u2014for lack of respect, he said. If it hadn\u2019t been for him, he declared, after Florence left there would have been no trade at all\u2014since the customers who continued to come to the Grand Duc now came only to eat his food. Yet, Bruce said, the management put up in big letters the names of various knock-kneed tap dancers and a male soprano as the featured attractions, and never mentioned the name of the chef in any of their publicity. Bruce\u2019s feelings were hurt and, before Bricktop came, he would sometimes roll his one big eye ominously and look toward the French proprietor at the caisse or the Negro manager at the door, as though he could cut them in two. Then he would go out to a corner bistro and drink a whole bottle of black rum. Often he would come back rolling drunk and sit down in the coal box\u2014which made it very difficult for me to keep the fire going. He sat in the coal box, he said, because it would not be right for him to occupy the only chair in the kitchen all the evening\u2014since, when he got drunk, he meant to sit down a long<\/span> time. So he politely left the chair to me.<\/p>\n

One night, the French proprietor decided to fire Bruce, his salary being high and the income of the place low, and Bruce\u2019s temper that week having been surlier than ever. So the boss came back with his pay, and told Bruce in polite French that he wouldn\u2019t need him any more.<\/p>\n

Bruce said: \u201cY quoi<\/span>?\u201d<\/p>\n

The boss said: \u201cOui<\/span>, you may go right now, if you like. I\u2019m tired of your impudence and that frown of yours you carry all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bruce said: \u201cAlors?<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

The boss said: \u201cAllez!<\/span>\u201d and went back to his cash desk behind the bar, leaving Bruce\u2019s money on the kitchen table.<\/p>\n

Bruce was a very big fellow, six feet or so, and in his white apron and tall chef\u2019s hat he looked even bigger. The white hat made his huge dark face stand out like a round Dixie moon. And tonight, with its single eye, it looked like a moon in a cyclone cloud, as he regarded the money on the table.<\/p>\n

Silently, Bruce selected the longest of the butcher knives from the kitchen rack. He calmly parted the red curtains that separated the kitchen and pantry from the club proper. He walked slowly across the dance floor, where a few couples were dancing as the band played. Then he stopped at the cash desk at the end of the bar and calmly raised the butcher knife as he demanded of the boss, \u201cNow, qu\u2019est-ce que vous voulez, m\u2019sieu?<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

The Frenchman looked up and saw the knife descending. He dived beneath the bar.<\/p>\n

The colored manager rushed up to Bruce and said: \u201cSay! You\u2019re fired! Get out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d said Bruce, brandishing the knife. \u201cWho\u2019s fired? Do you want some of this, too?\u201d<\/p>\n

The manager backed right on out into the street.<\/p>\n

Bruce then went without haste around behind the bar, which move sent the proprietor and the bartender leaping for safety over the counter, across the dance floor and out the door. His long knife gleamed. The customers fled. The danseuses screamed. The house emptied. By this time Bruce had the place to himself, except for the orchestra, that stopped playing to laugh.<\/p>\n

Bruce then calmly returned to the kitchen, put the butcher knife back in the rack, and sat down. \u201cJim, did you see me?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw you, Bruce,\u201d I said. \u201cYou really did your stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTalking about I\u2019m fired<\/span>!\u201d he snorted indignantly. \u201cYou saw who<\/span> left here, didn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe boss!\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd all his assistants, little and big! Lit out and gone!\u201d He rolled his one good eye and it rested on me. \u201cBut we still here, ain\u2019t we?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re right here,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd here we\u2019ll be,\u201d he affirmed. \u201cLife\u2019s a bitch, but I\u2019ll beat it\u2014and stay here, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

His final statement was absolutely correct.<\/p>\n

The piano player went out and told the boss Bruce had quieted down. The manager came back in from the street, and Bruce was not fired. And that is how I got my job as a waiter, because, the following week, when they wanted to discharge me, saying they couldn\u2019t afford two men in the kitchen with business so bad, Bruce said: \u201cIf he goes, I go! And I\u2019ll go mad! Give him a job as a waiter.\u201d So I got a job as a waiter.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":299,"menu_order":24,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[49],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-200","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":99,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/200","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/299"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/200\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":201,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/200\/revisions\/201"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/99"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/200\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=200"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=200"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=200"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebigsea\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=200"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}