Continuing the Discussion

So I've been sitting on this for a couple weeks now, but with the recent podcast being dropped on this very topic of conversation I feel the impetus to put pen to paper, fingers to keys. I had the supreme displeasure of recently watching a friend and coworker go through a month long decline into a self-inflicted spiraling depression and eventual implosion. We all thought this to be a temporary phase and never acknowledged this shift in emotion to possess the gravity it held. It came to a head on an unassuming Friday morning, when whatever demons he had been wrestling with forced action and prompted him to quit without notice at the beginning of a shift, walk out of the restaurant after slamming a copy of his depleted bank statement on the bar and head home to the South in a frenzy of exasperation and exhaustion. Overworked, underpaid, and under-appreciated, my colleague could not take the stress of the situation and ejected himself from this personal hell with an immediacy that inspires awe, compassion and, most importantly, reflection.

Summers in NYC are fucking brutal for restaurant folk. The weather is not just hot, but cruelly amplified by the very asphalt we roam upon. Our apartments take on the quality of bikram studios that create a seemingly endless three month long sweat session. Biking through the spray of an unleashed hydrant becomes an activity in of itself, as one can find temporary solace in the cooling water reminiscent of younger summers spent running through backyard sprinklers with grass stained feet.

Most importantly though, the weather does not allow the body to fully relax and causes for shortened tempers and heightened emotions. Shit is hot and our patience wains as the thermostat climbs. For the employee of an NYC restaurant this is all augmented by the fact that you are working through the slowest of the seasons, as most of the people wealthy enough to dine out on a consistent basis have fled the humidity for Montauk, for the Hamptons, for anywhere that is not New York City.

The line cook perseveres for the most part as we are by nature gluttons for punishment in a truly masochistic sense. A little extra sweat through the shift just means we can embellish our stories a little more at the bar after service. However, the front of the house truly suffers through these leaner months as service slows and so too does their income from tips. You start to internalize the situation. The restaurant is no longer slow because of the season, but due to your own personal failings as a cook, a server, as a representative of the establishment. You question everything and this dialogue becomes a pervasive voice that only grows louder as the temperature rises and the tickets roll in at a slower tempo. By nature restaurant work promotes a certain introspective self-examination, as we are constantly engaged in a process of personal critique, but this phenomenon becomes destructive when environmental and social forces collide to heighten its affect. Taking it a step further, when an employee is already predisposed to depression and dramatic shifts of emotion, this quality becomes outright dangerous. 

My friend is gone from the restaurant and the establishment has met the challenge of his departure as was necessary. He was the FOH coordinator and his sudden departure caused for a frantic weekend that will never be forgotten, but the trivial hardships of service pale in comparison to my genuine hope that he is in a better mental place having removed himself from the fray. He knew his limits and left before things progressed too far. Regrettably I am writing this personal account in the shadow of Colin Devlin's own suicide. My heart goes out to his family and friends, and though I never knew the man I feel as though we all understand the struggle he endured having braved the industry for twenty-eight years while opening three successful Brooklyn restaurants. Take heed of this account and of Mr. Devlin's life, as a life dedicated to professional cookery is too often concluded by physical and mental decline. We all need our escape, whether it is in drink, drugs or some other format, but never lose the awareness of your self to the point where you lack control. We are an abstract assemblage of men and women who have foolishly embarked on a ride that will take us to the highest and lowest places in our lives, but we must find support in one another through the toughest of times. Line cook for life.  

Ian