KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly

(Chris Devlin) #1

mistake. He lived for that. In the man's three or so decades in the life,
he'd seen and heard every scam, every bullshit story, every trick,
deception, ploy and gag that ever existed or that a human mind could
conceive—and was always happy to prove that to anyone foolish enough
to try. If Bigfoot asked you a question, and you didn't know the answer,
he always preferred an "I dunno" to a long-winded series of qualified
statements, speculation and half-truths. You kept Bigfoot informed of
your movements. He would never allow himself to fall victim to
"manager's syndrome"—constantly watching the clock, wondering if and
when his employees were going to show up. Where Bigfoot ruled, he
knew when they were showing up: fifteen minutes before start of shift.
That's when.


Bigfoot understood—as I came to understand—that character is far
more important than skills or employment history. And he recognized
character—good and bad—brilliantly. He understood, and taught me,
that a guy who shows up every day on time, never calls in sick, and does
what he said he was going to do, is less likely to fuck you in the end than
a guy who has an incredible résumé but is less than reliable about arrival
time. Skills can be taught. Character you either have or don't have.
Bigfoot understood that there are two types of people in the world: those
who do what they say they're going to do—and everyone else. He'd lift
ex-junkie sleazeballs out of the gutter and turn them into trusted
managers, guys who'd kill themselves rather than misuse one thin dime
of Bigfoot receipts. He'd get Mexicans right off the boat, turn them into
solid citizens with immigration lawyers, nice incomes and steady
employment. But if Bigfoot calls them at four in the morning, wanting
them to put in a rooftop patio, they'd better be prepared to roll out of bed
and get busy quarrying limestone.


Purveyors hated his guts. They'd peel the labels off the cartons they
delivered, out of fear that Bigfoot would simply cut out the middleman
and order directly from the source. He was an expert in equipment. I
recall him getting a leasing company to guarantee a certain number of

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