I really hate working with owner’s kids. I didn’t realize how much, until my latest encounter with “the perfect angel”.
I guess it started when I was a teenager. I was working at a family owned steak house, where the kids all had to work without pay. It was considered their family duty, and contributed to a lot of negativity, which carried over into the restaurant. The kids weren’t there because they wanted to be, it was more like a punishment for them.
Then there was the owner/chef who bathed his little tikes in the kitchen. I came to work one day, and his kids were running naked through the restaurant. I just went for a walk, and came back later. Very weird.
Then there were the kids who were dealing drugs over the bar in a very busy nightclub/dinner house. They all went to prison for racketeering and a bunch of other stuff. What a treat they were. These kids had the best schedules, the best stations, in the best restaurant in town. They had it made, and they blew it.
And the son of an Italian chef, well, he was a real piece of work. One day, a bank deposit bag turns up missing. The son and a dishwasher had the only access. Of course, the dishwasher loses his job. Now, I’ve been reading people my whole life, and I’m telling you, the son took the money.
Or the teenage girl whose dramas and raging hormones disrupted an entire operation for every minute, of every day.
And how about the chef’s kid who sent back three different single vineyard pinot noirs because they didn’t meet his expectations. Goof. He was tasting his way through the wine list, on the cuff.
Which brings me to my current situation with daddy’s little angel. His no call-no show got watered down to a verbal warning. Now, I have an entire team who knows that the rules don’t apply to everybody – there are special rules for special people. I wouldn’t want to be HR defending that one in a courtroom.
Man, I really hate owner’s kids.