I didn’t get hired at any of the 19 art galleries I applied to when I got out of school and after two months of searching I broke down and applied for a restaurant job. I was hired as the head pastry chef at a raw vegan restaurant. At the same time I was picked up by the contemporary art museum Site Santa Fe. Though both jobs were nice enough for minimum wage, I was working seven days of double shifts and it totally sucked.
My boss at the vegan restaurant is a French conspiracy theorist who greets me every day with: “How the fuck are you?” We make fun of the customers. My boss plays simpering “meditative” flute music when they’re around – just what you’d expect from a gluten, soy, sugar and yeast free, vegan, raw and living food restaurant. When the customers leave my boss comments on how much he hates that music and I say: “Excuse me, does that flute have single-source origin? Is it organic? I prefer to listen to fair-trade bamboo.”
The wall color choice is an appetizing orange that took my boss a month to chose. There are many plants and after I complimented them he suggested that I take ayahuaska. He asks about nightlife in Santa Fe and tells me that for my next shift he’ll bring some mushrooms or a joint to share out by the dumpsters.
Drinking the fresh coconut water inhabiting buckets in the fridge gives me a persistent buzz and taking a shot of e3 live (some sort of green sludge) is what I expect cocaine is like except that it’s good for you/doesn’t enslave children or kill anybody. On top of that, the food is delicious and I’m learning to make all of it.
After a few weeks of covering shifts left and right because my boss fired everyone but me, I finally said I had to cut my hours in half to be sane. A few weeks later (after payroll) my boss realized he couldn’t afford any employees and laid me off. Now I have more time for adventures with my poor imported house-wife.