Well, this spills from the Big Boy thread, but when I was the DRB Supervisor (dishroom, we also cleaned bathrooms and bused the waiter stations - dish-run-bus)at the advanced age of 17, the cheapo manager was running out of Kale, which they used as a garnish for the plate. They weren't edible, it always came back and found its way into the garbage (yes, this is the 80s so restaurants in general, used raw kale and other sprigs of stuff to "dress" a plate). Anyways, he told me to run the Kale through the dish washer in its own crate, so they could re-use it (the plan was to put it in the cooler after the dishwashing bath). I ABSOLUTELY REFUSED. He tried to strong arm me with threats, when I told him, "go ahead and fire me asshole" he dropped the subject. And I can say, no Kale was re-used that day or any other day (usually Sunday, because there were no deliveries over the weekend) that I worked there.
Paul Harvey rest of the story:I didn't learn until I was "promoted" out of the dishroom, that I earned big "street cred" with the line cooks, who hated dressing the plate with unedible crap like that, and were wanting to use paprika, and herbs sprinkled on the plates for show, and perhaps flavor. Because the photos in the pictures of the food in the menu had the garnishes, managers said they HAD to use them - the plate had to look like the menu - they were big on that. But when I refused to re-use the Kale, and we ran out and I refused to wash the already plated garnishes, unbeknownst to me, the manager went out to the line cooks and told them to go ahead and use the spices and herbs. They were ectatic, but didn't looked overly pleased (on purpose) to the manager, who then grumble that the "kid in the dishroom is being a dick." One day, and I didn't know why at the time, the cooks made me a dinner on the house at the end of the shift when I was working late. I was surprised, because I didn't think they really knew who I was.
<message edited by Scorereader on Fri, 01/11/13 10:34 PM>