The Pontificators

Memo to the File from Furnando
Subject: troubles with line cook Slav Putnik
Date: 9/18/06

This letter is a faithful narrative of all my dealings with Slav Putnik, our little shrimp of a broiler cook. I’ve spoken to him on several occasions about his behavior while on the clock, and he has failed to acquiesce to my requests. He is guilty of repeatedly making the following infractions:

• Smoking on the line.
• Scratching himself with his hand and/or keys.
• Spitting just about anywhere.
• Smelling like 2 week old chili mixed with old spice.
• Speaking in a language comprised entirely of cuss words from the English, German, and Spanish languages.
• Applying the 3-second rule to food items that have been on the floor for more than 3 seconds.

I have spoken to him on 3 separate occasions about his gross misconduct. His answer is always something like, “damn die flitzerkacke puta!” I’m not sure what any of that means, and I’m afraid to look it up, but it can’t be good.

I’m not sure we’ll be able to work things out. I gave him a great grammar and vocabulary book on the English language that I discovered the next day deep fried and plated in the hot food window with a side of sautéed toenails, skin flakes; tossed in what I can only hope to have been a white wine and cream sauce.

I’ve told him personally that he has 1 more chance to correct his behavior. Any more infractions will result in his termination.

Tags: Humor, Restaurants

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