Who Says Culinary School Isn't Funny

I get to strike out on my own, gently guiding over-eager youngsters into financial ruin. We use words like 35 THOUSAND DOLLARS and they reply with, "Like, how many iPods is that?" Then, we have to resuscitate the parents who have just fallen on the floor, eyes glazed over and salivating while mumbling to themselves, "My first house didn't cost that much." I call the school nurse, "We need oxygen in here."

Then, the threats start. Mom or Dad begin by saying to the new student, "If you make anything less than an A on everything, I will repossess your freaking braces... retroactively." Ouch! Well, you really don't need your teeth to cook, I supposed, but knocking the kid's teeth out will ruin their chances to star on Top Chef or the Next Food Channel Star, or something. That's what they all want: A chance to shove Rachel Ray off the pedestal.

So, they sign up for culinary school and discover that they have to work at it because this isn't just heating up Microwavable MacNCheese, which is their cooking experience to day. I hear students in the corridor, “They didn't tell me I had to wash dishes, man. Bogus!" I shout out of my office, “You have automatic dishwashers, you know!” Of course the inevitable reply is, “Not for the pans, we don’t.”

OK. You got me there.

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