For example, Mike, the general manager that many argued was a "dry drunk", commanded his troops with incomprehensible mumbles, angry and large hand gestures and a complete inability to articulate instructions to get anything done but an equally impressive ability to let you know how angry he was that you did not execute his non-plan correctly. On a busy night, when inevitably someone screwed up an order and put "cheese" on fries that was not ordered, the plate would be returned to the kitchen. Through the foot wide slot between the dining room and the kitchen Mike would glare at you, and then the plate, and then grunt like a bull ready to stampede. He'd grab the plate and declare, "Fug shulp guff." The situation would resolve itself and he would threaten to make the server pay for the wasted food. That food, by the way, was thrown away to discourage servers from intentionally screwing up the orders for a free meal. I ate the food out of the trash if no one was watching, so jokes on them.
Another manager, named Will, tried a much more personable approach to management. He knew he was your friend and he knew that you admired his lush moustache and wanted nothing more than to grow up exactly like him. So, happy to mentor, he would tell stories about his internet girlfriends and how pretty soon she was going to visit from Korea, but he'd be goddamned if she was going to try to get a free ride out of him for her kids. What is the world coming to when you can't even trust the love of your life you met on the internet in a country on the other side of the world? Unfortunately, most of his stories weren't this exciting. Too many involved the megapixels on his new camera or how he upgraded his internet speed; probably a good call if you're downloading your love every night. My absolute favorite interaction with him was roughly half way through my Steak & Shake career. One late Winter night I sat in the break room by myself, massaging my Beatle hair with a pen and massaging my lungs with carcinogens. In walks Will. He sits down and with the air of an international spy delivering code words to earn my trust, he asked, "Hypothetically, what would you say if I told you I heard you were the biggest pot dealer in Bowling Green?" Hypothetically, I would laugh. Hypothetically, I would feel very sorry for you because you project an exciting life of underground goings-ons and intrigue on your actual life of failure culminating in a minimal exercise of influence over twenty year olds and senior citizens who hate only themselves more than you. I denied my involvement with the high risk lifestyle of a Bowling Green, KY trafficker and Will nodded and smiled. Playing along with my game he continued, "Of course, but if I needed to get some pot where do you think I might look?" I believe he still thinks I was a dealer. If I was a dealer why in God's name would I work at Steak & Shake? I don't even like pot, but that is besides the point. The remainder of interactions with Will involved him yelling at you when you didn't have a silverware cup in your bus tray because goddamnit those forks will scratch the plates and do you want to pay for those plates? They're not free you know. Oh, and there was some drama with rape charges against him from a coworker. The establishment's response was to move him from one Steak & Shake branch to another. And I think they fired the waitress who brought the allegations.
The last manager of note that won't be a pivotal character is Ben. Poor, poor Ben. He was the youngest manager, I believe. He had a fiancee and plans to move to Pittsburgh where surely his life would turn around. He also had a love affair with alcohol and cocaine. He was a very nice guy. I have no ill will towards Ben and I think he was the most effective and intelligent manager. When he was in charge things were fun. They were lighthearted, and the absurdity of the whole situation was understood. The customer throwing a fit because his Frisco Melt didn't have enough 1,000 Island Dressing got a meal comped and the staff laughed after he left. However, it was a struggle to discard the signs of turmoil surrounding Ben. The cloud of whiskey smell followed him like the rumors that he knew where the cameras couldn't see, and that's where he stashed his Jim Beam. More power to him, if you ask me. If that was my life I would need a little consciousness numbing too. The freezer, in addition to preserving sacks of chili, froze the stench of marijuana. One night, I didn't see, I just heard, Ben threw his keys in the safe, told another manager he quit, started crying, and admitted to a crippling addiction to cocaine. The next day he was back and we didn't mention the incident. He was still smiling. The break down coincided with a story I heard through the grapevine about Ben's fiancee coming home (they lived together) with a man and introducing Ben to him, explaining that if he wanted to start bringing home women it would be fine with her because she didn't plan on curbing her sexual indiscretions. I don't think they ever moved to Pittsburgh.
For the most part, these managers maintained the day time Steak & Shake, the Steak & Shake that catered to farmers in the morning and single mothers in the evening. At night, though, a different management style emerged. It was the management style of Anthony Stovall and he was a key player in my re-education. He deserves a chapter of his own, so, get ready: SEGUE. Oh, if you actually know Stovall, imagine him riding a Segue. Pretty awesome, huh?
couldnt find a picture of stovall so enjoy bourdain
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