Banking Those Hours
The kitchen police have come to town with their white gloves and clipboards.
Well last night was "zombie night" at the restaurant. Once a month the kitchen staff have the duty of scrubbing the kitchen so that it is spotless. Each person is given a section to do and we try our best to get it done as thoroughly and quickly as possible. The restaurant is open during the whole ordeal so most of the cleaning is done after the orders stop around 10:00 or so. This made for a very long 14.5 hour day finishing around 2:30 in the morning. Luckily, I have today and tomorrow off. I didn't have to be there this morning when the London bigwigs came in to inspect the place and issue a grade. I'll find out how we did on Thursday.
The people I work with seem to come from many different places. Though most of the staff are British, there are people from Poland, France, Iran, and Swaziland in their employ. It's been a challenge for me to learn how things work. I can't imagine how difficult it is for people with English as a second language. Despite the slight differences in nomenclature and pronunciation there isn't much of a language barrier for me. They do find it funny how I pronounce "shallots" though.
Most of the "foreigners" in the kitchen are from Poland, the result of their recent joining with the European Union. Blair's government, who projected that some 20,000 Poles would come to Britain to do the jobs that Brits didn't want to do for less pay, has come under fire from the natives who have become angry that about 600,000 ended up coming in. You can almost hear them yelling, "They took our jobs!"
I've gotten to know a couple of the Poles I work with, one who speaks English very well and another, who I mentioned in my previous post, knows very few words, and relies on gestures, whooshing sounds, and his fellow Pole for translation. I sat down after a shift with him to enjoy my complimentary post-work drink, and we spoke to each other as best we could. It was a great experience for me and no doubt a preview of travels to foreign countries. He told me about Poland and I told him about Canada. Our best form of communicating seemed to be drawing on napkins: maps, objects, currency conversions, etc. When speaking one has to choose words carefully and keep things as simple as possible.
So I'm gradually getting used to the job. Being prep chef can be quite relaxing actually, as I can go about my thing, cutting parsnips or making onion marmelade, while orders are coming in and the other cooks are scrambling to get them out. The only live orders I have to fill are desserts. Once I've mastered that I'm sure they will call on me to step into a new position, but the stress that I see on the horizon does not entice me. The gain in skill does however. A tough choice.
When I do get time off I like to make the most of it. On Saturday night I went to Derby to join Adam and his friends for a birthday supper. It was nice to meet some more of his friends. A crazy bunch they are too. We all headed into the city after the meal to find a place to hang out but most places were too crowded and loud. I grabbed the 12:30 bus back to Nottingham and got some rest for work the next day.
So work work work for now. With the number of hours I'll be getting, especially as the holidays approach, I should be able to save up enough to do some travelling in the next couple of months.
Cheers.
Well last night was "zombie night" at the restaurant. Once a month the kitchen staff have the duty of scrubbing the kitchen so that it is spotless. Each person is given a section to do and we try our best to get it done as thoroughly and quickly as possible. The restaurant is open during the whole ordeal so most of the cleaning is done after the orders stop around 10:00 or so. This made for a very long 14.5 hour day finishing around 2:30 in the morning. Luckily, I have today and tomorrow off. I didn't have to be there this morning when the London bigwigs came in to inspect the place and issue a grade. I'll find out how we did on Thursday.
The people I work with seem to come from many different places. Though most of the staff are British, there are people from Poland, France, Iran, and Swaziland in their employ. It's been a challenge for me to learn how things work. I can't imagine how difficult it is for people with English as a second language. Despite the slight differences in nomenclature and pronunciation there isn't much of a language barrier for me. They do find it funny how I pronounce "shallots" though.
Most of the "foreigners" in the kitchen are from Poland, the result of their recent joining with the European Union. Blair's government, who projected that some 20,000 Poles would come to Britain to do the jobs that Brits didn't want to do for less pay, has come under fire from the natives who have become angry that about 600,000 ended up coming in. You can almost hear them yelling, "They took our jobs!"
I've gotten to know a couple of the Poles I work with, one who speaks English very well and another, who I mentioned in my previous post, knows very few words, and relies on gestures, whooshing sounds, and his fellow Pole for translation. I sat down after a shift with him to enjoy my complimentary post-work drink, and we spoke to each other as best we could. It was a great experience for me and no doubt a preview of travels to foreign countries. He told me about Poland and I told him about Canada. Our best form of communicating seemed to be drawing on napkins: maps, objects, currency conversions, etc. When speaking one has to choose words carefully and keep things as simple as possible.
So I'm gradually getting used to the job. Being prep chef can be quite relaxing actually, as I can go about my thing, cutting parsnips or making onion marmelade, while orders are coming in and the other cooks are scrambling to get them out. The only live orders I have to fill are desserts. Once I've mastered that I'm sure they will call on me to step into a new position, but the stress that I see on the horizon does not entice me. The gain in skill does however. A tough choice.
When I do get time off I like to make the most of it. On Saturday night I went to Derby to join Adam and his friends for a birthday supper. It was nice to meet some more of his friends. A crazy bunch they are too. We all headed into the city after the meal to find a place to hang out but most places were too crowded and loud. I grabbed the 12:30 bus back to Nottingham and got some rest for work the next day.
So work work work for now. With the number of hours I'll be getting, especially as the holidays approach, I should be able to save up enough to do some travelling in the next couple of months.
Cheers.
posted by Mark Bauche at 5:01 PM
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