Another day, another pissed-off restaurant worker writing an Internet roman à clef. This one, penned with panache by a one Peanut Butter Jesus, isn’t quite as delicious as Sympathy for the Restaurant Industry, maybe because it’s not quite as obvious who the players are. At least one person’s identity is unmistakable:

People he played that game with now fly around the world and tell TV Chefs their broccolini blows. They have three assistants you have to get through just to say “fuck you, meet me at Siberia in twenty minutes”. That game is gone, now filled with cookbooks and TV spots on Today, filled with front of house managers sitting on their ass in their offices during service.

Alright, so that takes care of the man with no reservations. But who are the other characters and venues based on? Here's what we're dealing with:

• There's Addison Smith, “Monday-morning-quarterback and superficially-spiritual-chef-extraordinaire.”
• Shane, who's “ubiquitous in the New York City restaurant landscape and a prodigious drinker,” as well as “the new GM of a sports bar/restaurant in TriBeCa.”
• NoHu, the “shit house sports bar run by Mr. HP; he had no clue what he was doing.”
• Finally, there's Lumière Associates. In the most recent installment, we leave our not-so-humble protagonist signing an offer letter with them. “Or signing my life away as I would soon come to find…”

You could cut the drama with a knife! And you’ll probably have to, since your server is off writing a novel.

Peanut Butter Jesus [PBJ]