Idle Minds, by Dalia Jurgensen:

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Nothing can kill kitchen morale like a slow night. And any cook will tell you that it is much more likely for their food to suffer on a slow night than on a busy one, even though a single plate might have the kitchen's full attention. Cooks thrive on energy, speed and efficiency, and without the challenge of a full dining room, they easily become bored and unchallenged, which leads to a lackadaisical cooking performance. So, they find ways to combat boredom. Some have cook-offs, contests to see you can make the best, original sausage (pork with coriander), or the best snack for a drunken night (French fries with pulled pork, gorgonzola fondue and tomato aioli). Other, less industrious cooks, play cards or take turns scouring the web for poker and porn on the office computer. Most spend at least some of the time tormenting the waiters or each other. One group of cooks I worked with came up with a truly original way to beat the boredom.
 
 When it became clear that the night was going to be endless with only a few orders trickling in from time to time at the most, the cook in charge of the kitchen (and the ringleader for most of the kitchen capers), would announce that it was time for Pants Off Dance Off. While singing the opening music to the 80's dance classic "Everybody Dance Now" by C and C Music Factory, each of the four or five male cooks would drop their baggy, elastic-waist kitchen pants. For the allotted time, the cooks would work with their pants around their ankles, which not only handicapped their movement, which was normally quick and efficient, but made them look incredibly silly. They had the added bonuses of being a wee bit naughty (they were working in their underwear!) and a wee bit dangerous (they were still cooking with fire). But laughing at each other and the confused looks from waiters was not enough.
 
 Only one among them was wearing white briefs, and it was only a matter of time before the cook working next to him realized that the chocolate sauce I'd made to go with the chocolate soufflé would look great smeared on the back of his neighbor's white briefs. He stealthily smeared the counter edge, conveniently located at butt level, with chocolate sauce and waited for the inevitable, the perfect punch line, and revenge, to a deathly slow night at work.

Dalia Jurgensen, Spiced, pastry chef, cooking, Penguin Books