Denial

   

It is a strangely unique human quality (one might almost call it a pandemic), that we cannot handle the truth, especially when it comes to admitting when we are wrong. An ethical topic since the dawn of man, lying, deception and denial have only recently been embraced and studied by scientists, though long known existentially as a sad fact of human existence. Perhaps it is (most probably) rooted in our pride that we have this innate ability to mar reality into the fantastic vision we then thrust upon ourselves and others.  Or maybe it’s our unwillingness to define anything as absolute for fear of falling short; that true and false become blurred shades in a relative existence. Religion, philosophy, history and psychology all  tussle with the notion of our pride or hubris (the delusion of self importance that far exceeds reality, thus warping our need to adhere to normal rules) and document its fatal outcomes. Oedipus, Icarus, Satan, Dr. Frankenstein, Macbeth, Nixon, Tiger Woods, Nebuchadnezzar, Basil Fawlty, Willy Loman, Martha, Oh heck, everyone. Everyone, yes EVERYONE, has an overextended sense of self that results in denying the truth, leading to a destructive situation at some point or another. And that realization is difficult and painful to deal with. Most often, we don’t. And with denial, we don’t have to.  Or maybe we buy into the doctrine of relativism, where there are no absolutes. This shifting sand of a foundation makes it easy to justify what was the red X of historical past as a justifiable stamp of approval when seen through our kaleidoscope-like mental perception of the“for me at this moment” generation. Not to mention the emotionalism that creeps in and affects our factual perception or counterfactual recollection that creates a psychotic alternate dimension of outcomes.  Either/or, whatever your historical, scientific, sociological, ethical or spiritual worldview, the facts are in; we are incapable of being absolutely 100% truthful, even to ourselves. Whether maintaining our self-esteem, or creating serious delusions, it is sad but true (pun intended), we cannot help ourselves (again, pun intended) when it comes to admitting to the truth of our failings. Which makes working in the hyper-critical environment of a kitchen so much fun. I actually had a hard time deciding on an appropriate anecdote for this one, not from lack of material but from a preponderance thereof.

It was.....well, another day in the kitchen. One of my cooks was busy preparing croutons for the upcoming service. I gotta tell you, I have more crouton stories than cats have liv...dogs have fle....ok, I have a lot of crouton stories. Anyway, our salad today was a Caesar salad, and was going to be topped with a nicely toasted golden brown crouton (crostini really) rubbed with a bit of garlic. Not traditional, but nice; the type of thing that explodes with flavor when your teeth have at it, emphasis on explode. As we closed in on service, I could tell it was not going to be a smooth opening. There was that awkward quietness that comes from a station when they are doing something wrong. It's not complete silence, it's a mere susurration, an awkward bustling which spreads discomfort around the kitchen like a sunburn under a starched wool dress shirt at a summer picnic. Normally incidents involving croutons end in smoke and turmoil, but this was different. This was the bustling of someone in denial.
Contrary to what I expect when a crouton fiasco arises, the crisp, golden brown garnishes actually looked quite nice. I was almost ready to pay the cook a compliment. Almost. You see, we were getting ready for a service of 80 to 100 people, and each was to receive a salad, each salad a crouton. One would expect that a person preparing for this would in fact make 100 croutons, if not more to compensate for loss, breakage, human error. What I came to realize was that this individual was way off, only preparing a fraction of what was needed in the next few minutes. And in their denialism, attempted to bypass the inevitable making of more croutons.
CRUNCH a crouton disintegrated as I came on the scene. The cook grabbed another, but paused at my approach.
"No, no, no, try it again." I needed to witness that which I deducted was taking place.
"So, what's the thought? You're going to make twice as many salad croutons by taking big croutons and cutting them in half now?" I asked in disbelief as my cook pushed a pile of dust to the edge of his cutting board. "Well let's see it, let's see it ."
CRUNCH, another crouton semi-exploded as the cook tried to bisect it. One of my other cooks commented that that was at least a little better than the last attempt; some of it might have been salvageable. I'm not sure whether this was done as encouragement or sarcasm, but either way the other cooked offered up their bread knife thinking it might prove to have better results.
CRUNCH
"Yea, yea...that was a little better." I confirmed, I mean after all one becoming one is better than one becoming none.
"So, how many croutons are there here?" I motioned to the tray of Mise en Place as my cook hacked his way through the crunchy toasts with mixed results.
"25" he responded.
"So if there were 25 and you cut each one in half perfectly...we're only going to do 50 covers today?", I mean I was legitimately curious. The other stations, four in total, had prepped for 25 covers apeice. We were planning on a hundred covers. Even with his best efforts, this cook would only be halfway there.
"So no matter how you cut those..."
"I could butterfly them, Chef." He interrupted my line of interrogation.
"Buterfly them?", WOW! This guy was in serious denial. I let him ramble on as his teammates chimed in.
"Well, this is actually working." Again he defended his course of action. Did I hear that right?!? This was working? The carnage was now growing. A couple others threw in their lame suggestions, which muffled out the sole sage advice, which at this point, was to start anew.
"Sooooooooo....?" I lead him,
"Should I make more Chef?"
"I think that would be best."
(enjoy the video)

Let’s face it, acknowledging the truth of our failings hurts. If we just alter our perception of the facts, we can relax at the lemonade stand of denial instead of wincing at the painful squirt in the eye, lemon juicer of reality. Truth can be confining, denial allows us to manipulate the reality into a more palatable elixir, temporary relief; as if we actually have control over this inane sojourn.  One undeniable fact however, is that truth always comes to light. Long term denial (lies and deception either internal or external) never works out, even if there's someone there enabling us through our delusion (and sometimes that someone is us). Perhaps Nietzsche was right with his claim that “the lie is a condition of life”. Everyone deceives, whether others or themselves, and if they tell you they don’t, they just did.