Work Clean (5 page)

A chef is a boss. A restaurateur restores us. A chef is a boss who helps restore us. There's an English word that approximates that meaning—the boss who helps to restore us. The word is
mentor.

In almost every profession one can find great mentors. Several professions keep the master-apprentice relationship at their core—medical doctors are supposed to be teachers, as are plumbers. But apprenticeship is baked into the culinary world. The chef-apprentice gives the chef her toil in return for knowledge and experience. Moreover, the tight economy of the kitchen and the complexity of kitchen work mean that good chefs must take the betterment of their charges very seriously. As we've seen, only half of that education is about cooking; the other half is about things like organization, movement, planning, dependability, communication—in other words, mise-en-place.

As a result, no professional in the modern world is more effective or experienced or responsible for teaching organization than a chef.

The chef has been teaching his charges for years; now the chef can teach us. Before the advent of the contemporary culinary school, the only way to get these particular skills was to work in a kitchen, whether that meant starting at the bottom as a dishwasher or, for the more experienced cook, “trailing” a chef—as Brian Plant trailed Chef David Pasternack.

What we are about to do is embark on a different kind of “trail,” not to learn how to cook, but to learn how to work, and work
clean
—consciously and efficiently—by exploring the system of mise-en-place and by practicing those behaviors in the world outside the kitchen, a world which sorely needs those values.

Jeremy
*
checked the wall clock as soon as he pushed through the glass office doors. 9:30 a.m.
Right on time!

This was no small victory. Jeremy didn't hear his alarm when it rang at 7:00 a.m. because he had turned his cell phone ringer down the night before. His wife roused him an hour later. Cursing, he showered, grabbed clothes out of the dryer, kissed his wife and 9-year-old son, Adam, and dashed out without breakfast. His wife reminded him that it was his turn to take Adam to his soccer game tonight.

“Yep,” Jeremy said. “Be home by six.”

Since being recruited 7 months ago to run creative services for the tech division of a big financial firm, Jeremy had neglected his family to focus on his work. This was his first big corporate gig, his first time managing a significant workload, and he didn't want to mess up. The previous night he had worked late going over résumés for a new hire and reviewing his team's marketing ideas in advance of today's big brainstorming meeting.

The list on his “to-do” software had grown so long that consulting it had become more confusing than helpful. And since Jeremy had no time to make a quick task list this morning, on the white-knuckle drive to work he made a mental note of the most important things he needed to accomplish.

■
Finish the slides for his boss Stephen's new client presentation so he'd have it by end of day.

■
Pick photos for the new Web site and send to the designer.

■
Hire the Web site copywriter and call her with instructions.

Jeremy had to complete the Web site on a tight turnaround, and he was already behind. So many things had taken longer than he thought they would, because on this job he had so many more things to manage. But the site had to launch next week or they'd lose customers.

Jeremy figured he'd have just enough time before the staff meeting at 10 a.m. to review the slideshow and send it to the printer. After lunch, he'd pounce on the Web site photos, call the new copywriter, and then maybe have some time to
finally
clean his desk. But as he pulled into the parking lot, he remembered: He hadn't done the evaluation forms due to HR today. He'd need an hour or two to complete those forms. Cleaning would have to wait.

His desk had always been a problem in his previous jobs and in college. Now it had become an embarrassment. He was a new employee working in an open office, and everyone could see it. He had people working
for
him whose desks were spotless. Jeremy comforted himself with the conviction that he had less time to be tidy because he had so much more responsibility. As he hustled toward his cubicle, he could see his inbox overflowing with memos, padded envelopes, magazines, and packages.

He pulled out his chair and saw a piece of paper.
Great!
Michelle—the assistant whom he shared with John, his marketing counterpart—had gotten him price quotes for the Web site. He put the paper on his desk atop several other papers, tapped his computer keyboard, and was greeted by a flood of new e-mails—three dozen since last night, many of them résumés from people responding to his job posting. He sorted through them.

“Yo, Jeremy, I need your help!” His designer Robert had computer trouble, and Jeremy prided himself on being able to unstick folks. When he saw that the fix would take longer than expected,
he asked Michelle to print out the photos for the Web site.

Jeremy returned 20 minutes later to see that Michelle had nicely fanned the photos out on his desk. While he reviewed them, the receptionist came by and tossed his mail on top of the photos. Jeremy was annoyed but let it go. He perched the mail on his teetering inbox, and, seconds later, everything fell out onto his desk. Jeremy began to replace the pile when he heard Stephen's voice.

“Let's go, guys!” 10:00 a.m. Staff meeting time. Jeremy hunted for his notebook. Not finding it, he grabbed a pen and a sheet of blank paper out of the printer and headed into the conference room. Stephen smiled at Jeremy and greeted the staff before starting.

But Jeremy's mind drifted. His pre-meeting efficiency plans dashed, he obsessed about the coming avalanche of Web site work. . . .

“ . . . Jeremy, are you good with that?”

Embarrassed, Jeremy nodded instead of admitting that he hadn't heard what his boss said. When it came time for Jeremy to give his update on the Web site, Stephen asked: “What's hosting and data services going to cost us?”

“I have the quotes,” Jeremy replied. “Mind if I jump out and get them?”

Jeremy hustled to his desk and . . .
Shoot! Where were the quotes?
He remembered putting them on his desk. Michelle had put the photos for the Web site on top of them. Jeremy realized that he must have moved the sheet into his inbox after it toppled over. No time to find them now.

When Jeremy returned to the meeting, Stephen had another question: “How's it going with the deck?”

The presentation!
Jeremy was supposed to have proofed it before the meeting and sent it to the copier.

“On its way,” Jeremy lied.

“Great,” Stephen replied. “Can you review it with me at four, after the brainstorming meeting?”

Jeremy squirmed until the meeting ended. If he completed that presentation by noon, he could still get it back from the copier by 4:00 p.m.

When the meeting ended, Jeremy darted back to his desk. Now
he resolved to shut everyone and everything out until he finished that presentation. Michelle told him something about the copywriter's contract, and he grunted and kept working. He spent 10 minutes searching and scrolling in his e-mail program to find one piece of data for a slide. Then he saw another e-mail reminding him that expenses were due at 3:00 p.m. He had to get those done; he and his wife needed the money to cover Adam's summer camp. It was noon. He just had to finish proofing first. . . .

“Jeremy, can you come in here?” Stephen beckoned Jeremy into a meeting with Aaron, the business affairs guy, who said: “Before I approve these photo shoot invoices, I need the release forms for the models.” The blood in Jeremy's head rushed down to his feet.
He hadn't remembered to bring the release forms to the photo shoot.
A rookie mistake, and he was no rookie. Jeremy could see the surprise and disappointment on Stephen's face when he confessed as much. “How are we going to launch a Web site next week if we haven't gotten these releases?” Aaron asked.

“I'll fix it today,” Jeremy replied.

“And remember, three o'clock!” Aaron said.

Yes
, Jeremy thought,
expenses due at 3:00 p.m.

Now he careened through proofing the presentation. At 12:30 p.m., he asked Michelle to take the file to the copier and beg them for a rush.

“I was about to do something for John,” she said. John sighed and waved her off. Jeremy thanked him. Jeremy couldn't find his portable drive. Michelle used hers and bolted.

Now the expenses. He picked through his inbox for the envelope with his business trip receipts. It was time to clean this damn inbox. Filing exhausted Jeremy because he had to keep turning around and bending down to the cabinet behind him. Just thinking about it exhausted him. He made a mental note to get one of those desktop files. Jeremy searched for 5 minutes before realizing he must have left the envelope at home. He'd have to submit the receipts he had on hand, which was about half of what he was due.

Jeremy searched for his cell phone to call the modeling agency, but where was his phone? A minute later, Jeremy found it in his jacket and saw that his ringer was still off, and that he had missed
two calls from Michelle. He called her back. She said that they could do the printing and binding by 5:00 p.m., but it would cost 50 percent more for the rush. He'd have to tell Stephen about the delay.

At 2:00 p.m. Jeremy finished his expenses and clicked “Print.” After no breakfast, maybe it was time to go out and grab a quick lunch? But Jeremy wasted another 15 minutes: Walking to the printer, he zagged for the bathroom instead. Walking back to his desk, he forgot about the printer. Walking to the printer, he forgot his stapler.

At 2:35 p.m., in line for food, he felt his phone buzz. His ringer was
still
off. It was Michelle asking if he was coming to the 2:30 p.m. brainstorming meeting.
The meeting!
All this preparation, and he hadn't actually put it
in
his calendar. He raced back to the office. Stephen didn't look up when he entered. Jeremy had read everybody's proposals last night and had told himself he'd make notes in the morning, a half-hour that he had slept through. He sulked and said little during the meeting.

After, he pulled Stephen's coat to tell him that the presentations wouldn't be ready until five.
Could he postpone the run-through until 5:30 p.m. just to be safe?

“Sure,” Stephen said. “I've got a dinner at 6:00 p.m. and a red-eye flight tonight.”

What a day.
Jeremy rang his new copywriter, Janet, and took 30 minutes to discuss the Web site. At the end of the conversation, Janet asked when she would be receiving her contract. “End of day,” said Jeremy, remembering now that Michelle had said something about that contract.
Right!
He had to get a form to Aaron to get him to generate the contract. At 4:00 p.m. he e-mailed it to Aaron. But since he wanted to make sure Aaron didn't miss it, Jeremy walked over to his office. It was dark and empty. His assistant was gone, too.

“I think he's gone for the day,” one of the finance people said. “He's flying out with Stephen tonight.”

Cherisse, the director of human resources, tapped Jeremy on his shoulder. “Evaluations?”

Back at his desk, Jeremy asked Michelle to fetch the presentations from the copy place.

“I'm doing something for John,” she replied.

“Can it wait?” Jeremy asked. “I've got to stay here and do these evaluations. Including yours.”

Jeremy felt horrible the moment he said those last two words. But he was panicking.

John stood up. Not happy.

“Dude, are you threatening her?” John asked. Jeremy said no and apologized.

“Find someone else to go,” John said.

Jeremy was so mortified he just ran to the copier himself. The evals would have to wait.

At 5:30 p.m., Jeremy walked into Stephen's office with an armful of presentations, 20 in all. Stephen was itching to leave. All business now.

“So are we going to get those releases from the modeling agency tomorrow?” he said.

Damn! He had meant to call the modeling agency and then got distracted by those calls from Michelle.

“I hope to,” Jeremy exhaled, sweating. “But listen, do you think you can lean on Aaron to get me the contract for the copywriter as soon as possible? I didn't know Aaron was leaving early today.”

Stephen looked up, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Jeremy said, “I went over to his office at four, and he was gone.”

“I mean ‘Are
you
kidding me?'” Stephen replied. “Aaron told you in the staff meeting that he'd write the contract before he left if you got him the form by three o'clock. I asked you, ‘Jeremy, are you good with that?' and you sat there in that meeting and nodded yes. Now you're telling me you don't
remember
?” Stephen sighed, picked up a presentation booklet, and paged through it.

“Where are my changes?” he said, looking at Jeremy. “The changes I asked you to make?”

Jeremy had been in such a rush to complete the presentation that he had forgotten about the e-mail with extra changes that Stephen had sent him yesterday after seeing the draft.

“Shit,” Jeremy said, shaking his head.

“Yep, shit. Spelling errors, too.”

Stephen dropped the booklet, inhaled sharply, and rose, grabbing his jacket. It was 5:45 p.m. “I've got to go to this dinner. I need you to redo this now. Go to the copy place and stay there until they're done. I wanted to take them on the plane with me, but if you can get them to express mail tonight, I can get them in the hotel by morning.”

Stephen looked at the mass of bound presentations on his desk.
About $200 worth of paper and plastic,
Jeremy thought.