Someday I am going to write a book about all of the things I’ve seen happen over my career. The name is going to be “Knockers on 32” because this story is always the first one I tell when someone asks me for a crazy kitchen story.
“I was working in a restaurant that had a semi-open kitchen. By that I mean that you could see approximately one high top table in the bar if you were on the line, but you could see the whole bar from the expo station. You also got to see all of the people traipsing up and down the stairs into the dining room.
One night, it was kind of slow, and one of our managers was on expo. This guy was always good for a laugh, and was super even tempered, so everyone relaxed when he was in the kitchen for the night. We were just kind of hanging out, when he starts talking about the one table we could all see, table 32.
First thing he says is “have you washed your hands lately? I think you should wash your hands. There’s no soap back there, come over here.”
That’s code for, “if you don’t have a clear view of 32, come see.”
He proceeds to go on and on about this woman’s chest, how it is so big that they’re resting on the table and how the table must be getting tired from all of that weight, when one of the other managers, who had been downstairs doing some paperwork (and also happens to be this guy’s wife) comes up the stairs to hear the end of the description. (Now, it should be noted, that she also has a great sense of humor, so no one was worried.) She just comes up around the corner, takes a discreet glance into the diningroom like she does every night before leaving and turns her back to go out the back door.
When she hits the door, hand on the knob, she turns back to us all and just says, as if it was a daily thing, “right. Knockers on 32, heard” and walked out the door.
I don’t think we stopped laughing until the ticket machine finally started grinding away.“
I’ll always remember that moment though.
Knockers on 32, heard.