Adventures in the Restaurant Business

Bill and I are refugees. Not refugees from a tsunami or a violent political overthrow. We're refugees from the film making business. Don't feel sorry for us. We did it to ourselves. We had careers helping to make TV shows and movies. We were union members and had guaranteed wage rates and health plans. We were 2/3 of a production sound crew. I sat at a cart, turned knobs and groused when things weren't going smoothly. Which was most of the time, by my estimation. Bill held a boompole above his head and charmed actors and anybody else that needed charming so our job, recording actors' voices, would go more smoothly. Admittedly, it is not a sure thing that this style of life would have continued for us. There are fewer and fewer good jobs to be gotten in Los Angeles film production and many talented people are biding their time out of work. Upon the completion of each movie or order of TV shows from the studio, everybody is out of a job. But, beyond this convulsive professional life, there are other features to the job that can become untenable.

Bill: After twenty (wow that many?) years in the 'industry', I was starting to exhibit classic symptoms of burnout. If you're not 'above the line' and I wasn't, there is a lot of free time. If you get good at whatever little task you are paid to do, there is even more. Time to think; am I wasting my life? What do I want to do when I grow up? That sort of thing.

Charles: Ok. The film production life had to stop. It had become a simmering bubble of boredom and sometimes barely hidden contempt. I felt this bubble mostly the sum-total of my life's relationship as I was in it nearly all of my waking hours. Then there was the alarming paradox of the hurry-up-and-wait nature of the work which sometimes caused a given 13 hr work day to seem like a week, while at week's end, you wondered where the week went. It seemed to slip by so elusively. At the end of a tv season, that feeling was only exacerbated. "where did the year go?", I felt. Now, into my 50s, I didn't have that many years to continue to wonder about. I was the human version of a caged animal-feeling it's mortality

Bill and I had shared our take on this predicament. We'd been working together consistently since 2002, in addition to being old friends. We'd gone through the frustrations of not being able to get work at times as well (the only thing worse than working). We'd both worked in kitchens and dining rooms earlier in our lives. We both liked what restaurants do and we had strong and similar feelings as to what a given restaurant ought to provide.

Bill: For the past six or so years, I worked with a guy named Charles, a fellow Bostonian, smart, funny and also exhibiting similar nervous tics brought on by too many years on the set. I knew him from the old days and we had met back up when I got out here to pursue whatever it was that made me leave the east coast in the first place. Now we were working together and spending an increasing amount of time discussing life away from the fold. We both had restaurant experience, we both could cook, loved wine , had kids the same age. It was a perfect match. Talk became more serious; pointed. What kind of restaurant would we open? Exactly what dishes would we serve? We'd bring in bottles for our potential wine list.

Charles: I guess, to me, it was always a viable possibility, starting a restaurant, once the production life had run its course. That was the question. When had the production life run its course?

The decision was really made for us with the 2007 writer's strike. We had a couple weeks notice that we'd be losing our jobs and in that period of time my mind was only on the first thoughts of a new career. I asked Bill if he was in. He was and the life that began that day is what we're going to be talking about in future posts: the inception and the day to day running of the Allston Yacht Club, the bistro/bar that we've opened in the Echo Park neighborhood of Los Angeles. In the coming weeks, we'll be penning a bit of a diary of sorts here on the Huffington Post. Stay tuned!

Comments

[Bedingham]

Good luck on your new restaurant adventure! After over 25 years in the restaurant business, working in various capacities, I found the lifestyle very rewarding. A restaurant is good theater with food as the star.

[Humanistic]

An idea: maybe you should get some flyers made and hand them out before downtown LA concerts and the opera. Also, advertise in their programs. When I lived in LA 16 years ago, I used to attend frequently, and there was a shortage of places to eat within a reasonable driving distance.

[Idytme]

I do wish you luck, but you will find it one of the hardest jobs in your life. My DH is an ex Chef and ex restaurant consultant and we eventually partnered together to pull restaurants out of their graves. Between us we have worked every job inside the restaurant business. Say hello to 80 weeks and wearing more hats than you ever knew existed. You can have the best food and service in the world but if you aren't all over your costs it will mean nothing. You can be rated the best restaurant in town by some magazine or another but with no buzz it will mean nothing.
I miss it, but at the same time I don't miss it at all. It is nice to have a life again, but the people in the business are just terrific people that you don't find in other types of businesses.
Again, good luck. Just stay all over everything, front of the house, back of the house, costs, food, recipes, hostesses, customers, promotions - at all times, every moment that you are awake.

[medward]

I very much look forward to following your progress, especially as I live in Echo Park. I will come in soon to check your place out and to wish you well in both your culinary and blogo-spherical endeavors.

[TCBuell]

Go for it guys

[rcklseric999]

this hits a little too close to home. i myself am a 20 year veteran of the film business and have felt the pinch of disdain and the onset of poverty. do you guys have room for a sous chef from jersey?

[thehuff]

Good Luck guys!