Missing Out

I often think about the things that I would say to a soon to be cook if given the opportunity. I’d probably start the party by showing them my open wounds, followed by the collection of awfulness that has gathered underneath my fingernails. If they care to hang around afterwards, I’d probably ask them one question: are you ready to be the worst friend/significant other/hockey fan/concert goer/movie watcher in the entire world?  If yes, proceed. If not, you can either cook lunch or fuck off. There’s nothing for you in this world, and everything is waiting for you in the real one.

Now, you won’t miss everything; there will be the occasional opportunity to request days off. You can have all the Wednesdays you want, but Saturdays require medical emergencies. This would be fine, except that most events take place on the weekends (I’m looking at you, beer fest.). I’ve come to terms with it, but I wasn’t exactly aware of it when I signed up.

Over the past six years, my friends have mostly slipped away. We do still see each other, but mostly we “catch up” and rarely “hang out”.  Instead of making it to all of the parties, I hear the stories over coffee a few weeks later. The stories, while often hilarious, will never be the same as being there to see your friends doing their best/worst. I miss staying up until 4 in the morning playing Contra. Now when I stay up that late, it’s because I’m wide awake from working all night, and Contra isn’t the same as a one player game. It’s impossible without the code, and I just couldn’t live with myself if I used it. Since the schedules will seldom be in sync, we communicate by phone or by Facebook, the former if you’re fortunate. It usually goes something like this:

Friend: Did you see the game last night?

Me: No.

Friend: Did you see that new movie?

Me: Double no.

Friend: Want to go see Wilco in February?

Me: What day is it?

Friend: It’s a Friday.

Me: I can’t.

Friend: Why not?

Me: I’ve got to work.

Friend: Can’t you get it off?

Me: It’s a Friday.

Friend: Oh.

I’m actually astonished that I still have friends, partly because I’m a jerk and partly because I’m never around to be a jerk in person.

If you’re single, cooking probably isn’t a great way to solve that. I’m of the lucky few that managed to snag one of the pretty servers, and that’s like winning the lottery. You think those out of work actresses at Cactus Club are going to bed with the fry cook? Think again, brains. If you’re already in a relationship, you should know that it’s pretty tricky to maintain both it and your budding career. It takes a pretty special kind of spouse not to beg you to abandon the chef ship in exchange for a better paying/better hours kind of boat. I like the feeling of being missed, but it’s a fine line between being missed and being forgotten. I suggest flowers and using the cooking skills on occasion, just to keep afloat. Little reminders of your existence like leaving the toilet seat up and your towel on the floor are frowned upon, but I like to think of them as little love notes that require cleaning up.

So here I am, doing what looks like whining but is actually warning. I cook because I love it in spite of all of these things. My friends and girlfriend? Well, they support me and appear to be quite capable of forgiveness and understanding. You should probably make sure that you’ve got some good people in your corner when you start down this path, you’ll need them. You should also invest in a Nintendo for some serious single player gaming, and a Tivo for all of those hockey games. As for the beer festivals, you can buy a bunch of different beers and drink them from tiny glasses. It’s as close to authentic as you’ll get, and you’ll also get to feel like a giant.

Your Friendly Neighbourhood Line Cook/Absentee Boyfriend,

Jacob Galbraith