The Iceman No Longer Cometh

Ice is a pretty basic comodity when running a restaurant/bar. In our situation, it's required to keep the wine chilled during dinner service as well as at the actual wine bar. While we were getting organized at the beginning it was decided that the wine bar really didn't need an ice delivery service as we would need about one bag a day so we would just pick it up at the supermarket across the street and as I lived in the neighborhood, I volunteered to handle this.

The first day I picked up 4 bags figuring this would last 4 days. Being as the bags were heavy and awkward, I figured it would be much easier to fill up a shopping cart and have one of the supermarket staff escort me across the street and load up the freezer which was located near the kitchen/dining room area. So I then purchased 15 bags of ice, essentially enough to get us through the Olympics. Imagine my surprise a few days later when the ice was all gone. It seems the dining room staff was helping themselves to the ice for the nightly wine service. And so it began that I became the iceman (or icewoman). I really didn't mind as we are all part of the same Olympic team. All of us working together towards a common goal.

Things seemed to be proceeding smoothly, or so I thought. It seems as I was the only one monitoring this ice situation. Even though they all witnessed my arrival with shopping carts full of ice, they became convinced that they had a magical freezer which miraculously filled itself with bags of ice. Apparently there was quite a commotion on one of my (few) days off because there was no ice. Oh no! What on earth could they do? Their magical freezer was no longer magical. Thankfully things did not grind to a complete halt as they managed to find their way to the supermarket and it's ice section all by themselves. All was good.

At the other end of the house lived the wine bar and it's now infamous coffee machine. With the arrival of the baristas came the arrival of cappuccinos, lattes and macchiatos. Oh what happy times these were. In order to make these warm mugs of joy, milk was required. And what better place to find this milk than in the kitchen. And so it came to pass that I would go to the kitchen and the lovely chefs would provide me with the milk for the baristas to make these cups of happiness.

And then a dark cloud fell over the house. One day a member of the dining room staff inquired as to why I needed milk. To make cups of happiness I replied. Oh no. This was not acceptable because the kitchen only ordered enough milk for their needs and the coffee bar did not fall into that category.

What?!!!!

You have to be frickin kidding me? You stick a frickin coffee machine in my wine bar, expect me to come up with the baristas to run it (which I did) and now I'm to buy the milk to make the cups of happiness you're all enjoying? How on earth does that become the responsibility of a wine shop?

And the dark cloud grew.

Coincidentally (maybe not) a few days later the Olympic Appendectomy happened. It was no longer possible for the icewoman to arrive with shoppng carts full of ice. She arrived with one bag and milk. A few days passed and they stared into their once magical freezer with wonder. Why was it no longer producing bags of ice? Because you pissed me off that's why. Enough is enough. Team spirit, what team spirit? It's now everyman for himself. You're not going to provide me with milk, I'll be damned if I'm going to supply you with ice. As a kitchen, you should have signed on with an ice provider from the beginning when it was suggested to you. I'm sure this isn't your first time at the rodeo. You should all know better, it's your job for crying out loud. And to top it all off, you come to me requesting ice and saying it's the job of the winebar to provide it. Well, it's the kitchen's stinkin job to provide milk and as that's not happening, neither is the other.

The Iceman no longer cometh.