When people ask me to describe what service industry PTSD is like I always respond with “watch me make a pot of coffee in the morning”. I usually get an eyebrow raise or they will inquire as to which coffee shop broke me and I have to explain. Yeah coffee shop owner is on my proprietor resume but we were slinging about $100 a day in coffee while the baristas were giving away coffee to their friends so it wasn’t much of post trauma story. The only PTSD I got from there was paying $300 plus out of my pocket a month to keep it running.

I’ve done it for years without realizing it. It took my little “break” from the service industry to notice what I was doing. I use making coffee as the basis because it’s a good representation of how I go through motions of some of my everyday activities. So I use making my morning coffee as my example:

I wake up at the butt crack of dawn every morning between 4:45-5:30 for the last half decade. I never planned this it’s just how I sleep. I have apparently became a morning person after I evolved as an adult through no fault of my own. It’s grown on me. I get up to an hour every morning to myself and my coffee to start my day.

It ain’t bad.

If I’m out of bed at 5:01 and I’m preparing coffee at 5:03. My only pause is too put my watch on. My coffee is ready brew by 5:04.

Ok whoop-de-doo big fucking deal you can make coffee in a minute congrats.

No, it’s not that part.

It’s because I have to.

I may not go into work for 3 hours after coffee was made that day. I might not even have to work. It could be cold, raining outside and my day off. I could have zero intention of leaving the sofa but by god my coffee will be made in an efficient, high speed manner.

Efficiency

Sense of urgency

Move it or lose it

Dead lines

Ticket times

Countdowns

Timers beeping

In my waking moment my mind is already moving to complete my first task. As quickly and efficiently as I possible. I will grab the coffee pot and turn my sink on full blast. I’ll squeeze the little Dawn detergent bottle like I’m squirting paint onto a canvas. All the while scrubbing the pot like it has grease caked on the bottom. When it’s clean enough to pass inspection I blast the faucet on cold, stick the pot under the water and will turn to the trash can behind me and shake and slam the old grounds into the trash like it was on fire. I’m doing it urgency because I have the pot under the water faucet refilling at the same time.

Im multitasking.

It’s what I’m trained to do. When I’m pouring the grind into the filter I’m constantly tilting it back and forth back and forth to get the exact amount of coffee I need into the filter. Milligram by milligram I’m weighing it in my mind. I liken it too when Indiana Jones stands before the little golden monkey statue with a bag of sand weighing the granules just right.. I will literally rock the coffee container back and forth 6 or 7 times to get that bean ground at the exact spot I had it last time.

Consistency is key. It is everything

My coffee brews in 5 to 6 minutes. 9.5 cups. I add 10.5 cups because I know the grinds will absorb one cup of water. If it brewed less then I shit the bed on my grind measurement. Do better next time. Raw sugar measurement will be the half tablespoon I put in my palm. That’s how I learned to measure the spoons. I’ve got a fucking spoon in my hand that can do the same but it’s only used to stir. I will most assuredly spill some coffee while stirring because that made coffee should’ve been in my hands 45 seconds ago.

And then I sit to “enjoy” my coffee. Whether it’s for 15 minutes before a busy morning or for an hour or two on a rest day. Moving slow isn’t an option for me. “Why don’t you make your coffee the night before?” Sometimes I do but it’s my morning sidework routine. I don’t like to fuck with that. Some of you will understand.

Morning coffee is just symbolism for my everyday routine. I use it as the prime example because it’s who I’ve become from after living in the annals of the service industry. Of all the little quirks, habits, addictions I’ve tried to reckon with this is the hardest one. I’ve become wound up tighter than a Swiss roll shoved in a back pocket.

When I’m around slow moving people I get agitated. In my mind I can’t comprehend why everyone isn’t moving with a sense of urgency. I fight the urge to scream “BEHIND” when I’m approaching grocery cart mosiers or especially these mother fuckers that walk .02 mph and also can’t walk a straight line. You analyze their walking pattern to pass them at the right time and next thing you know they are leaning left because.. I don’t know, one foot is overpronating?

My wife won’t go to Costco with me somedays because of the anxiety I cause her. From the moment I put my truck keys in my hand to the moment I pull up to work with work inventory, I’m moving with the speed and efficiency of Tom Cruise when he’s packing his kids up after the aliens started dusting humans in War of The Worlds. I’ll look at my wife and say “we are leaving this store in 8 minutes.” I’ve already got my path navigated where I hit the exact spots I need to fill my inventory with the least turns. I go there every week. There are multiple aisles I have never walked down in Costco. They don’t serve my work’s needs so there is no reason for me to waste valuable time meandering through 2000 sweatshirts, multi-patterned hand towels or boxed sectional sofas. When Costco gets a hankering for changing their floor plan around and decides to move my crackers from an end cap I lose my fucking mind.

*side note- I may tell my wife we are leaving in 8 minutes but let me assure you we leave when my wife damn well pleases.. 8 minutes is just my suggestive time I’m not an idiot.

I’ve bumped carts and rammed a few heels on the folk that should be moving faster. I don’t mess with the elderly but sometimes I do wish they’d speed up the mortality process. Also I don’t shop around the One A Days aisle so that helps me steer clear of them until we bottleneck into the self checkouts. I will absolutely not fucking ever get behind one of these walking versions of expired milk. If they plod to self checkout I’m rerouting. The vitamins must be spectacular because some of these elderly are 115 years old with bandaged wounds over their head like they just walked out of the Tet offensive. I will grind my teeth down in anticipation when they start trying to scan their bulk oatmeal. If you don’t think I’m wound up tight just read those last two paragraphs again. It’s 5:30am at the moment and I’m on my first cup of briskly made coffee. I’m getting myself worked up.

Over the years I’ve been over programmed to do everything with efficiency and urgency. When I see disarray and or lack of structure it makes me uncomfortable and sometimes angry.

The first time you are thrust into this vocation you are given the instruction of the importance of timing and self awareness. To me these are paramount for any job but maybe I took it to heart so well that it absorbed me. 16 years of my management career was an extremely structured program where consistency went from the protein on the plate facing east every fucking time all the way down to pens (smoky, black, bic click pen) in all the servers aprons being in the same exact row, three wide across a professionally starched white apron. When I go out to eat I survey the whole dining room. I get antsy when people have been sitting for more than 2 minutes without being greeted. Or when I hear that familiar clink of ice that tells me someone just slurped their last drop of soda and the server has not been by to refill. When I see hostesses with their elbows on the hostess stand I sigh heavily. Don’t get me started if I’m sitting by an open kitchen. I can no longer watch them cook without jumping over the line to offer my unsolicited opinions on how to make their stations more accessible and streamlined. My standards were drilled into me. They were great assets to have in the industry in fact after a while some would eventually suggest I tone it down.

You created this monster not me..

If you give me an hour task to do and all day to complete it I’ll have it done in 30 minutes with 23.5 hours to spare in the day. I’ve operated under 12 minute deadlines for 30 years. That’s the golden ticket time average. Anything under is a bonus. 14 is ok, 16 is smooth on a Friday but when you hit the 20s your blood pressure goes up, you get that little ringing in your ears and your head begins to throb. Over 20 and you’re walking the dining room beat, repeating apologies to each table like a skipping record. Most are fine. Some can be as uptight as me.

When I parted ways with my company in 2020 I bought a journal to write down my thoughts. I wanted to look back and analyze where my mind and thoughts were resting during that time. I wrote on the first page. “Take your time. Learn to slow down.” And then wrote “slow down” over and over for two pages like a flashback to my 3rd grade classroom chalkboard, chalk stained hands, punishment for running in the halls (sense of urgency even back then).

That was the only thing I wrote in it. If anyone wants to have a barely used notebook for cheap I got you.

I am programmed to work but I’ve always tried to manage my time over the years and allow myself one day of rest/play. That’s all I needed. I could work 6 doubles back to back to back, all I needed was that Monday or Tuesday to repair myself. If it rained I’d do project in the house. If it’s nice I’d drive out of town and hike all day and get back home for dinner. That was my rest day. Unless I’m bedridden with sickness or injured you will not see my ass on the couch all day. I’m not judging you if you can. In fact, I’m downright jealous. I’m physically and mentally incapable of relaxing.

When I had downtime during Covid I didn’t know how to deal with myself. All three restaurants were locked up for one month. During that time I detailed all three kitchens, cleaned up 148 recipes, rebuilt order guides and did data entry to recalculate food cost for all the restaurants. I had a million home projects I should’ve taken care of but work comes first. Work always came first 🧠.

There wasn’t enough work to fill my day everyday during Covid and my idle mind took over. I slowed down just enough to question what in the actual fuck my existence was all about. One day I was going to drop dead over a damn wood grill or if I’m lucky just a prep table that will break some of my fall and still land me an open casket. I had never had time for self reflection and honestly didn’t know how to handle it when it fell in my lap.

When I parted ways at the end of September I took that two pages of slow down and tried to take it to heart. I didn’t work for two months and almost lost my mind. I would spend hours blowing and raking leaves in our yard. I would rake them in heaps in the yard and leave them. After a couple of days I’d go back out there and do it all over again. My wife would keep a watchful eye on me from the kitchen window. We could both feel me slipping. R&R just ain’t my bag baby but I tried.

I got drunk one night and created Chadcuterie. It started off as a drunken play on words. I had my mind on a food truck initially but I didn’t have the funds. Covid ruined that. By December I was right back in my comfort zone. Working my ass off, daily sense of urgency, stress and the security I get from financially supporting my family.

Chadcuterie really fucks with my programming. It’s consistently inconsistent so it throws me for a loop on how I’ve managed to deal with myself. Once again timing is everything in fact it’s worse. I’ve mentioned before you don’t want to fall behind when you’re 20 boxes deep. You aren’t swallowing the cost of a $10 sandwich if someone gets pissed off. You may not get paid that day if you fail. Also my timing depends on the punctuality of my patrons on some days. I’ve managed to put that in their hands. Terrible mistake. Punctuality is another trigger for me. It is impossible for me to tolerate tardiness. I will not make plans with you if are one of those consistently late folk. It’s nothing personal. You are just fucking up my whole day. My old partners were notorious for running 20 minutes late for meetings. They would joke they are on “Miami time” while I’m sitting at a giant conference table by myself with three kitchens set to explode in three hours. I’m not an early person by any means. If I’m suppose to be somewhere at 6pm I’m walking in the door at 5:59.

Consistency

Positive side of Chadcuterie is I get to take time off. I plan for 2 big adventures every year and several mini adventures. I enjoy the mini ones more. The big ones, once I hit day 5 the old programming gets into my head and I start feeling guilty about not working. I get antsy. I don’t get vacation pay it’s all me friends. So I start feeling guilty. My business is suffering because I’m not focusing on it. What if I come back and I’ve lost momentum? My stock has been sitting untouched for 8 days I’m wasting product I’m better than that.

Every single long trip I’ve planned I’ve come back AT LEAST one day early. Usually two sometimes three. I’m capable of enjoying the short ones. I don’t lose any momentum.

I budget myself a weekly sales budget and hit it every week usually except for January. I beat the shit out of my mental health when I don’t hit my sales goals it gives me anxiety. I’m well aware that one week may suck and the next may triple but I’m a slave to hitting goals every day, every weeek, every month. This month always fucks with my head. It forces me to slow down. It’s too damn cold to camp or work outside, I don’t have any damn leaves in my yard. We cut the tree down.

I’m just now making peace with it. I’ve read a few books this month already and I think I’ve written about a dozen of these mind tangents. I’ve made it a point to reconnect that “slow down” journal scribble. I’ve binged on a few fun tv shows and spent about 6 hours on the sofa on a Saturday. Something I haven’t done since I wore pajamas with feet in them. I’ve changed my workout routines because they were a reflection of how I would work myself to death. My joints and muscles are feeling the effects of long work hours paired with 8-10 hours of weekly gyms, trail runs, cycling and long distance running. I’m mostly yoga and light dumbbells now and my body thanks me for it. I actually feel more body positive now than I have in decades.

I’m still dealing with the downtime it’s tough going from 500 boxes in one month to 30. It’s a full fucking reset but I’ve prepared myself better. I think..

Timing

I’ve been setting aside downtime to write first thing in the morning and to get unplugged at the same time

Efficiency

I’ve slowed down quite a bit but I’m still a maniac when I’m shopping for work. Coffee is still at a Tasmanian devil whirlwind level but I’m making strides. I’ve stretched it out another minute or two. Baby steps. Gonna ride out this day off with a thick ass book and a bag Doritos.

Consistency