This happens at least once in every kitchen.
A new cook is told to chop leafy herbs, and they are given a cutting board and told to hone their knife. A bunch or two in, the new cook inevitably looks up at the Robo-coup (a.k.a. “Robocop” or “Robo”, a brand name for a heavy-duty professional food processor. Our version of a Cuisinart.)
“This is friggin’ stupid. It would be way faster and more efficient to use the Robo-coup.”
An older cook looks up from their own prep and shakes their head. “Nope, it’s gotta be like this. The food processor doesn’t do it right.”
To the new cook, this sounds like “peeling potatoes builds character” hazing bullshit. As soon as the chef isn’t looking, the new cook has taken down the heavy cube of a machine, affixed the bowl and blade, and is shoving bunches of parsley in while the older cook rolls his eyes, watches, and waits.
The machine IS powerful, and noisy. Chunks of green juice and herb splatter against the clear lid like alien guts while the very-pleased-with-themselves cook watches and uses his “expert opinion” to decide how long is enough. Soon, he tips out the bowl into a container and is about to load another couple of bunches in when the chef’s voice rings out. “The hell do you think you are doing?!”
Young Iron Chef freezes, they don’t understand. The parsley is getting chopped, right? They’re doing their job. They’re doing it faster than everyone else, right? That’s the point, isn’t it? Why are they in trouble? “Chopping the parsley like you said, Chef!”
The Black Hat Baker 