Smorgasbord Posts from My Archives – Odd Jobs and Characters – The Steak House

This series shares some of the jobs I have turned my hand to over that fifty years, and some were very odd. Not many have sat at a table between two teams of champion dairy cows, selling bull semen!  Over the years I have accumulated a massive dossier of characters and events that now take centre stage in my short stories.

If you have read my novel Just an Odd Job Girl you will have met some of them but over the next few weeks I hope to bring you some of the others that inspired and stimulated my imagination.

Not all these posts appeared on Smorgasbord as some fantastic blogging friends allowed me to guest post. If that is the case of course I will include their books and links.

You can find the previous odd jobs here:

This episode was kindly hosted by John W. Howell and you can find out more about John and his books later in the post.

I began my training as an assistant manager in a steak house in Kent in 1974. For the six months, I would rotate around through the two bars and two restaurants that served a simple menu of steak, chicken, and fish. Most dishes came with either French fries (chips) and peas. For the more health conscious there was a jacket potato option, but by the time several pats of butter had been added, it was as fattening as the fries. Dessert options were ice cream with chocolate sauce and sprinkled nuts, or apple pie and cream. The wine menu was short and featured the German white wines so popular at the time, with much touting of the young French red wines with alleged body and clarity.

However, despite not being a Michelin starred establishment, the training was considered to be one of the best in that particular area of the hospitality industry. It was certainly intensive, and when you consider the hours we worked daily, six days a week, the six months training was actually something you would normally complete in twelve months.

The building itself had been built in 1812 and sported the red flocked wallpaper so fashionable in the 1960s and 1970s. Smoking was still in its hey day and the ceiling was a curious shade of tobacco after 150 years of nicotine exhalation. The smell that greeted you in the morning was ‘eau de tabac’ laced with beer overtones. When you had been working until after midnight, had barely six hours sleep, you found yourself declining anything but black coffee until lunchtime.

I have to say that I loved it, despite the hard work and long hours. We had some very interesting regulars, and the locals embraced the concept of the steak house with gusto. It was cheap and cheerful, and as music blared out on a Friday and Saturday night, both downstairs and upstairs bars and restaurants were packed. The waiting list for a table could be an hour or more, but beer and schooners of sherry (lethal), dulled the senses sufficiently for the wait to be quite jovial.

During the day, only the downstairs restaurant was in use and was consistently busy. This offered the assistant managers time to do the usual administrative work needed to run the steak house, such as ordering food and spirits and cleaning the bars after the night before.

In the evenings it was my job to run the upstairs restaurant, with a team of waitresses waiting on the tables, and two bar staff, who alternated between serving pre-dinner drinks and after dinner liqueur coffees with assorted spirits (this is pre-drink-driving laws!).

The waitresses were rushed off their feet as they juggled three or four large plates laden with steak, chicken, and sides. My job to help in reducing the waiting list was to clear the tables as soon as the diners had paid, and re-equip with cutlery, glasses, and napkins as rapidly as possible. I would then dash back to the bar and announce the name of the lucky party over the tannoy system, who could now stagger after me into the restaurant.

One Saturday night in the middle of a very busy service, I had to handle a potentially difficult situation that could have ended up in the papers (thank goodness there were no mobile phones in those days). As you will remember this building was old, and there were dark recesses within the walls and ceilings, that you would have been wise to avoid for what might reside there.

I was checking the state of play on progress at a number of tables where the patrons were wiping away the evidence of their chocolate sundae. I noticed a man at a table with a party of six, bend down to retrieve his napkin. Instead, he came up with something smaller and definitely furrier than the paper serviette. I suspect that as a natural reflex, he stood with his arm held straight out from his body, clearly amazed at his catch. From my vantage point at the entrance to the restaurant, I identified the rotating body of a dead mouse.

There is a split second between shocked discovery and the public announcement of the find. Although never great at school at the 100 metre dash, I now excelled myself. Dropping the waiting list on the bar, I rushed through the restaurant and snatched the unfortunate deceased rodent from its captor, continuing on to the kitchen at warp speed. I deposited the mouse in the bin and turned and raced back the other way to find the patron staring at his hand and looking around in confusion.

Lighting in the restaurants was provided by dim wall lights in order to provide a romantic and intimate feel to the experience. It also served to conceal the tobacco infused ceiling and rather dodgy carpet. It also thankfully managed to befuddle the diner, who thankfully had not only consumed four pints of beer in the bar beforehand, but also a bottle of our best Liebfraumilch. I added to the befuddlement, by handing him his fallen napkin, and asking if the party would be interested in some liqueur coffees on the house, to compensate them for their long wait before dining.

An exterminator was called the next day and traps were hidden in all the usual haunts. But there was a postscript to this story.

One of the waitresses was a bit of a madam and was always giving the chef grief. As part of the staff’s pay, supper was included before the restaurants opened in the evening. The day after the incident, this particular waitress retrieved her indicated supper from the hot plate, and on sitting down, removed the cover. She issued a piercing scream that probably cleared the rodents from the building far more effectively than the traps. I came over to find out what the problem was, to discover her staring at her plate of battered mouse, French fries, and peas.

©Sally Cronin – 2017

 Next week – The Steak House Part Two – originally hosted by Sue Vincent.

Short story anthologies.

You can find all my books at these links:


Amazon UK:

Smashwords for Epub:

More reviews can be found on Goodreads:

About John Howell

John began his writing as a full-time occupation after an extensive business career. His specialty is thriller fiction novels, but John also writes poetry and short stories. His first book, My GRL, introduces the exciting adventures of the book’s central character, John J. Cannon. The second Cannon novel, His Revenge, continues the adventure, while the final book in the trilogy, Our Justice, launched in September 2016. All books are available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle editions.

John lives in Port Aransas, Texas with his wife and their spoiled rescue pets.

Books by John W. Howell.

One of the recent reviews for the first book in the series – My GRL.

My GRL pulled me in from abrupt murder at the start of the story and didn’t let go until the spectacular unexpected ending.

I enjoyed the writing style and humor. The plot had enough twists to keep me guessing and engaged in the story.

If you are looking for an unpredictable thriller to get lost in for a day or two, I’d recommend you giving this book a try. I’ll be picking up the other books in the series

You can read the reviews and buy the books:

and on Amazon UK:

Read more reviews and follow John on Goodreads:

Connect to John.


Thanks for dropping in today and I hope you have enjoyed finding out about the background to some of my characters.

36 thoughts on “Smorgasbord Posts from My Archives – Odd Jobs and Characters – The Steak House

  1. It sounds as though you could have added stewed mouse to the menu, with grated cheese to bring out the delicious flavour! On the issue of smoking, as a non-smoker I was delighted when the smoking ban was introduced here in the UK. It was such a relief to go home without one’s clothes smelling of stale smoke, plus not having to inhale other people’s tobacco! When I started my first job in November 1994, the office in which I worked still had smoking facilities in the basement (smoking was banned in the office thankfully)! I pitied the cleaners who had to clean that smoking room which no longer exists. Did you just take cash or cheques also Sally? One gets so used to paying by debit or credit cards these days. Also did you ever suspect that the loving couple in the discreet corner where perhaps not married and/or together in the orthordox sense (I.E. they where married/in a relationship with someone else but had slipped away for some time together)? I ask as I’ve been in pubs where this has happened (not to people I know I hasten to add). Kevin

    On 5/18/18, Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks Kevin and in those days it was just cash and cheques and it was tough on the waitresses who had to reckon up at the end of the night, as once or twice cheques bounced. There were limits on size if I remember rightly… but no bank cards. The waitresses usually had to make it up out of their tips. To be honest too busy to worry about couples in the corner.. we were usually so busy in the evenings – it was a very cheap meal considering you had a starter, main course and a dessert included. I gave up smoking 25 years ago and can not imagine smelling like an ashtray again.. it is most obnoxious smell…

      Liked by 1 person

      • Lol, well in our last house we were very troubled by mice cos we were close to fields and cos everyone else in that terrace had a cat, so we would just keep stuff down the whole time. Anyway, I taught music and drama privately and this day I came into the kitchen getting ready for the first pupil when this mouse appeared from nowhere and died. I tell you I am awful with mice even dead ones –I would be less scared of a man with an axe. But the Mr was right there and he got the brush and shovel. But the mouse wasn’t dead as we saw when he scooped it up. I was standing screaming when the doorbell rang. I opened the door not knowing th4e whole thing could be heard on the street.. The father thought someone was being murdered and with that Mr comes by with this mouse on the shovel, goes, ‘It’s just a mouse,’ and sticks it down the cloakroom loo. The child was traumatised. behaved very well in the lesson though!

        Liked by 1 person

      • We all have to learn about life and death at some point Shey!!!!! My mother-in -law used to sit before the fire with her shoe hanging off her toes.. one night my father-in-law noticed that a mouse had popped itself into the heel of the shoe and was happily swinging back and forth… When I was about 13 we lived on a naval base in Lancashire which was very rural.. One night my mother woke to hear rustling on the bedside table, she put the bedside light on to find two mice helping themselves to bits of tissues, probably for nesting material. She screamed.. the dog and cat came running and leapt on the bed and under the covers, and my father who slept naked was valiantly trying to catch the now traumatised rodents when my brother and I arrived… xxxxxxxx


  2. Pingback: Smorgasbord Weekly Round Up – Personal thoughts on the week’s events and Jazz, Tulips, Pork, Reading and the Himalayas | Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life

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