I forgot my work socks yesturday. No socks and Doc Martins, in a sweaty ass kitchen is a very vile feeling.
Dale wears two pairs of socks with his work boots.
The sensation of rolling someones elses sock, doused in their cold, damp sweat is indiscribibly wretched. However, much apprieciated.
Friendship knows no boundries of filth.
Today has been a bit of a hell shift. We were £80 off of reaching record sales and I’ve spent all day on the fryers. Supper busy.
Theres alot of shouting in the kitchen, but oddly enough none of it is in the slightest aggresive; only instructive. Depending on whos calling the orders I’m usally adressed as “darlin’" or "lady”. Both of which I quite like. Somehow It makes me feel more human when we’re all swearing at machines and food, but still polite to one and other. My point here is that I’m aware that some women wouldn’t like these terms and may find them derogatrive. Fair enough. But I honestly dont mind.
What I do mind is a wink.
A wink from a newbie manager.
Working yet another close, I was sweating balls, deck scrubbing the floor when one of our mangers (lets call him Pete) comes in to do Kitchen check, with the newbie.
I like Pete. I like Mick too, another bar manager. I like managers that arent afraid to get their hands dirty with us pawns. Mick helped cook for over two hours today because he knew he was more needed in the kitchen than on the bar. Pete, he always makes kitchen checks easy for you. If you’ve missed a bit, hes got it covered with the trusty yellow cloth and spray.
The newbie Winked at me as he entered the kitchen. Cringe. Who do you think you are?! I am a sweaty, smelly mess in a boys uniform. Theres no sex appeal at 2am in a kitchen. Your wink, therefore, is not a compliment. Nor is it encouragement to keep working my arse off, whilst you stand there in your immaculate suit. Nor is it assurance that Its soon home time. Why not wink at the other two kitchen staff? Are they not sweaty or smelly enough for you? Because right now, in the final straight of blitzing this kitchen, there is no differance between us.
I have a sneaking suspicion that “newbie” might be a more frequent topic for this 21st Century wench.
I burnt my hand today. Splash back from the oil in the fryers. I’m a proper Chef now.
SO. I have resently started work in a Pub Kitchen and as a bit of therapy and perhap humor Im going to blog about it. I will be leaving the Pub nameless so lets call it Forks. I will not be using anyones real name either.
Just to fill you in, I’m the only lass in the kitchen, well pretty much, theres a sixty year old that works on saladet in the morning and theres a woman on the Bar thats been cross trained. But all in all, a very Male environment. Now would’nt really call myself a feminist, purly because I’m one of those librals that believe in eqaulity all round and I just dont want another lable. This said I imagine alot of my posts will be takeling the gender divide.