It was a habit I’d gotten used to every Thursday morning. Thursday is Scone Day.
Every Thursday for the last year, I’d start my day in the bakery by double-checking our inventory and getting started mixing giant batches of scone dough. Sometimes three flavors, but lately just the two best ones. Giant masses of sour-sweet short dough, weighed into mounds, then pressed into discs. No real thinking about it, unless something went wrong- the mix too dry, too wet, not the right yield, or whatever. Otherwise, it was automatic- just like most aspects of the position I’ve worked in for the last two years.
Today I made my last batch of scone dough. Next week, I’ll be moving on to a new job. The staff says it won’t be the same and that they’ll miss me, and I know they’re being kind. I’ve trained the people I’m leaving behind well- they almost function better without me hanging around looking for something to do.
“Looking for something to do.” Once upon a time, the position was grueling. I sweated my bones trying to make production lists, meet the needs of a frantic bakeshop, and train a parade of faces and names to bake. Now, the job is almost… easy. It’s scheduled. Practiced. Thoughtless.
I helped make it that way, and now I’m too tired and stressed to enjoy the easy part anymore.
It should have been a commonplace part of the day. Everything should have gone according to plan (one could say about anything.) Yet, someone goofed up.
Part of my job on prep involves readying the next mornings bake in the proofer and setting it on a timer. Lately, I’ve been able to pull all the necessary pastries and keep them in the fridge. The proofer gets used until near the end of my shift, and there’s no real point in me sticking around just to load it. The afternoon team knows where I keep the trayed goods- I point them to the rack, I go home, and they load the proofer when they’re done.
Yesterday, someone forgot. There was mayhem in the morning, and my manager called to ask why the proofer wasn’t loaded.
Yes, I was told to leave early. Yes, other people loading the proofer is common. Yes, there were four other pairs of eyes that should have noticed something was left undone.
It’s my job though. It’s my team- and I am responsible.
The Buck Stops Here
Servant leadership means that, instead of being a “boss” and just telling people what to do, the leader says “Here’s what I need you to do- what can I do to help make that possible?” A leader doesn’t just hand out tasks- the leader controls the timeline, provides the resources, streamlines work, fosters communication, and makes the hard decisions and final calls.
This doesn’t mean every screw-up needs to be handled with chest beating and a refrain of mea culpa. As a leader, part of the job is keeping everyone honest and responsible for their actions and coaching when needed. Regardless, a problem with your team is always your problem. Even if it’s something that came from above, that’s a discussion for the leader and their superiors- the leader is still responsible to their team.
Responsibility Goes Three Directions
I am purposefully ignoring a certain famous Spider-Man quote regarding power and responsibility. I’m pretty sure that even in-universe, Peter Parker is sick to the teeth with how cliche it’s become.
Regarding responsibility, however, there is always a direction involved- Person A is responsible to Person B for task/condition/team/whatever C. You might note that that does not indicate that responsibility only goes “up” the ladder:
Someone in a leadership position is responsible to their superiors for making sure the mission of their team gets donecorrectly, on time,with a minimum of fuss and complication, and in accordance with the organization. They are responsible for essentially making sure the higher-ups will be done, that their team gets the job done right, and in a way that brings credit to the organization.
An unfortunate aphorism is that “Shit runs downhill.” Credit goes up, blame goes down… a good leader knows how to subvert this “wisdom.”
They are also responsible to their team to manage competently and to the best of their ability. They are responsible for providing the resources needed to get the job, the “big picture” of their goal as a team, and a strategy to help the team succeed. They are responsible for advocating for their team to the higher-ups- whether it’s for needed resources and support, better working conditions, or being the intermediary when discipline is called for.
The aphorism here is that “A chef is a cook that leads other cooks.” As a leader/authority, they are the face of their team to the higher-ups and vice versa.
Finally, a leader is responsible to themselves. They need to meet their expectations for themselves while keeping those expectations reasonable. They need to execute their job to the best of their ability without martyring themselves. They need to give their full effort to their team while still looking after themselves- or else they won’t be in a condition to take care of anyone. They need to answer to their superiors, but without going against their own moral compass in the name of convenience or expediency.
Summing It Up
When you become a leader or take a leadership role, authority comes with responsibility. You are answerable to everyone, and everything is- in some way- your problem. You need to be able to enforce your superiors will, speak up for your subordinates, and look after yourself according to your own values all at the same time. Even when it’s not your fault, it’s your responsibility.
It’s a hard road to walk- we can all tell stories about “leaders” who slipped up one way or another. If it was easy, though, it wouldn’t be worth doing.
“Look, I’m just saying it’s missing something. I don’t know what, but it needs something else.”
The conversation next to my bench had been going on for close to 20 minutes. Our manager had just tried a spoonful of soup that we were going to selling tomorrow. It was a spicy African Peanut soup- dried ancho peppers had been infusing the pot with a smoky flavor, carried on the fat of the peanut butter and oil the veggies had been fried in. There was a suggestion for salt, but the recipe already had a lot.
Black pepper, sage, garlic, more cayenne, it went round and round. The owner looked over the pot and called me over. “Matt, taste this- what do you think it needs?”
I grabbed a spoon and took a taste. Smoke, peanut, and fried veggies washed over my tongue… but no heat. The heat from the anchos needed something to cut through the fat. “It’s good, but dull… you need some kind of acid in there to carry the heat and brighten it up. Got some lemon juice?”
The hot pepper might give the soup bite, but acid gave it jaws to bite with. When you become a cook, you start learning a different vocabulary for flavor, which is itself the vocabulary of food.
If there is one rule I’ve learned that has radically transformed my life, it’s the Ten Words that form the heart of my book “Blood, Sweat, and Butter-“
“You Always Have Time For The Things You Make Time For.”
The collary and counterpart to this best expressed with the phrase, “Where attention goes, energy flows.”
That doesn’t just mean your personal energy… and your bank account will tell you it’s not just some freaky woo-woo stuff. The sooner you learn about where you are putting your time, your attention, your money- in other words, your energy, the sooner you start making wiser decisions about it.
Running, baking professionally, and writing have become very similar for me in a few ways. Namely, the fact that I don’t always WANT to do them until I start doing them. There’s the “work”/required aspect to them now- the feeling that all three of these things that I unequivocally love to do are now in some way required to be done on a regular basis raises a low-key kind of cold dread, and I have lately found myself trying to put them off or do something else first.
No, it’s not the best discipline to be sure. Discipline is a muscle. It needs to be exercised and flexed in order to stay strong, so when I’ve gone on runs or sat down to write lately, I haven’t been “in the mood.” There’s been an attitude of “Ok, I said I was going to do this. I want to do this. I need to do this and will feel bad if I don’t, so just do it.”
That’s how it starts… and then something clicks. The sound of my fingers clacking on the keyboard, the cold air in my face, or the buzz of a busy kitchen and people asking me questions somehow reroutes my thoughts. It stills them. Focuses them. It’s no longer a question of “mood”- just a fact of being.
When you slip into flow state, (a.k.a. “The Zone”), the past and future vanish. There is only the Present, and the Work- and it’s different for everyone.
The Black Hat Baker 