Who am I and Where am I Going?

Aw come on, surely you have asked yourself these two questions at various points in your life. Maybe at a funeral, a graduation, or in the realisation of an epic failure and the usual bender that follows. Maybe you just find yourself in a quiet lull in between the stuff that keeps us too busy to pause and reflect intentionally.

Right now I'm sitting in an office high rise waiting for some software update to finish downloading and installing and I find my thoughts have brought me back to this blog and why I haven't updated since last year.

To my surprise Forrest Gump is the answer to the first question, and that seems to apply to the second question as well. Allow me to explain. The first minutes of the movie shows a feather being carried by the wind all over the place only to land at Forrest's shoe where he picks it up and admires it. Forrest is a simple man with an appreciation for things that most of us would hardly notice. He is intellectually disabled but somehow he makes his way in a hostile world and manages to touch so many lives in a way that changes them for the better. He does it with courage, honour, and humility.

Granted I am no Forrest Gump, but I'd like to be more like him. I've spent so much of my life living in fear of what the future holds, it's taken me all this time to let go of the controls. What I mean is that until this last decade, I have been furiously paddling upstream to get to a destination that I thought was where everyone was supposed to try to get to. That was damn exhausting.

What I've taken on is to feel which way the current is going and enjoy the adventure. Like that feather in the breeze, it didn't know where it was going, but boy did it get around.

I'm not saying I've become lazy. I still exercise volition and make choices that move my life in a particular direction, but rather than spending my life head down and waiting for the day when I reach my goals, I am taking time to enjoy the journey. Even when the detours seem to lead me away in a totally different direction. I try not to despair even when the detours seem too long and pointless, I'm sure something round the next bend will reveal meaning that will make it worth the delay. It may even set me on a new path and be just as exciting.

Much like this blog post, it all seems pointless. Until...


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Newsflash: The movie I was in will be released at Hoyts cinemas on September 1 this year. Hope you all watch it, I'm in the last 10 minutes of the film.

Personal Universe

Among all the creatures in the world, we have the ability to change our universe. I don't mean in the way say we can change the laws of physics (Gravity be gone!) but in the way we can modify our personal environment. As a basic example, we can decorate our room any way we like, take it a step further and we can build the room or the building that contains the room or the city that the building is in.

Today I was on the train commuting home and there were these newspaper sheets torn, crumpled and scattered all over the carriage. I stared at it for most of my trip, feeling annoyed. No, indignant even! There were maybe about a dozen people in the cabin and we all just sat there. Tolerating the mess some inconsiderate moron had left behind for god knows what reason. Maybe it was some kid, having fun shredding it and throwing it on the floor knowing someone else could fucking clean it up. It was that person's idea of modifying his/her immediate universe. Whoever they were, they were long gone, leaving the rest of us to suffer. In my SIMS(TM) universe, I'd have my mood indicator in dull yellow twirling about my head because I'm in a messy room. Nobody did anything, because, well I imagine they were all saying to themselves that "It's not my job."

As I quietly seethed, another thought occurred to me. I can change my environment by A) moving to a cleaner carriage; or B) cleaning it up myself. I went for option B and gathered up what I could of the mess. People stared, some with approving looks. However, I could feel the energy in the cabin relax a few degrees. I held on to the rubbish until I got to my station and deposited it in the bin.

I like to think that I was in a position of power. All the magic I needed to accomplish was achieved by simply changing my environment to make it nicer for me to stay in. As a byproduct, I have made it nicer for everyone else in that carriage. Perhaps their SIMS(TM) mood indicators are now slowly shifting towards a pale green.

It wasn't my job either, but that doesn't mean I have to suffer as a victim. I took control and right now I feel really good about my personal universe as designed by me.

Cooking 4 Life™

For the past four weeks I have been teaching a cooking class. One of my good friends who works with a company helping people with mental disabilities asked me if I would like to teach cooking for their clients. I thought what a great idea, and came up with a program to help these people be more independent, healthy, and confident by cooking simple meals for themselves. I called the course Cooking 4 Life™. It's not fancy gourmet style cooking, it is meant to demystify the art of cooking and show them that if they can read a recipe, they can cook anything.



We have six (6) students and some carers to help manage any challenges that certain types of disabilities may bring into the kitchen. So far, so good. Every week we cook a recipe for a meal and we eat the finished food together, and then wash up together. The most satisfying thing for me is to watch all these students tuck hungrily into a meal that they have just prepared themselves. Time will tell if they end up preparing the dishes in their own homes.

As an offshoot of the classes, I have been approached by the community centre where we conduct the classes. They needed a casual chef and I begin working for them tomorrow.

Season Return

Indeed it has been a while since the last post. How about we pretend it's like a TV series and now we are on season two:

*Pretend TV voice-over with flashback scenes*

Last time on Michael's Life:
*scene* left work at Sheraton;
*scene* fell in love with Beatriz;
*scene* having a baby together;
*scene* went on holiday to visit his family in the Philippines;
*scene* ... and moved in with Beatriz..

*show opening credits*




Life has once again taken a wonderful and slightly unexpected turn. Last time I wrote, I was feeling some angst at my self-perceived failure to make the grade at the Sheraton. Yet at the same time, I was aglow with the beginning of the relationship that I had always been dreaming of.

Beatriz and I had at the start agreed that if we could, it would be wonderful to have a family together. Back then we did not hold much hope that it would happen because of a number of private reasons that made us think that perhaps our capacity to conceive would be less than optimal. And yet here we are, halfway through the pregnancy.

At times I remember how I felt the first time I was an expectant father. I was a young man with no clue and filled with fear that I may be incapable of meeting the responsibility of parenthood. It was indescribably daunting at twenty-three. Now at forty-five, backed by twenty-one years experience of parenting my first daughter, it has at least become describably daunting.

I do not devalue the struggles of the road ahead, I feel like a soldier who's volunteered for a second tour of duty. I go, not because I have to, but this time because I want to.

The first time around, I was constantly afraid of what trials the future may hold and spend my days preparing for the storm that may never come. These days I come from a place of courage, with excitement in my eyes for what is to come. Enjoying today and embracing the challenges as they come.

I am alive.

Denouement

I was mistaken. Within a week I get a phone call from chef Joseph, but instead of the emergency shift I expected, he wanted me to come in and hand over my locker keys and name badge. I came in the following week intent on meeting up with Human Resources to let them know what was happening, I thought that they might be interested in how things are really run in the kitchen. It turns out they were just content to go with the official story as told by the kitchen management. It was very naive of me, of course that was what HR would do. They're not there for the benefit of the employees, they exist to protect the interests of the company. Instead of asking me what really happened, they just wanted to know if I had any questions about my termination. The last thing they wanted was to complicate matters in the kitchen if I had any grievances. By this time, I knew the battle was lost, I just thanked them for all the stuff I had learned and walked out of there.

I bumped into a few of the staff who asked me where I had been, I told them I was let go. they offered me words of comfort saying that I would be better off to be out of there anyway. And I did feel that way. This place was slowly killing me, they needed to break me so they can mold me into the automaton that showed up for work and did the job for as long as they want because I needed the job. The truth was, I didn't need the job like a lot of them did. I look at them that I leave behind and I can't help but think of them like victims in an abusive relationship. Willing to stay because at the end of the day, they just take their pay and get on with their lives as best they can. The happiest I have ever seen these people is at the end of their shift.

Later that evening I was back at the hotel bar to meet up with a friend visiting from the USA. The bar staff were kind enough to give us the staff discount on our drinks. It was quite amusing to be there as a customer, knowing what goes on behind the slick facade. I even spoke to chef Rick as he was busy topping up the buffet. He pretended to be busy, I realised that I pitied him as I was moving on with my life.


Speaking of which, that week I landed a gig working as an extra in the TV show Rescue Special Ops, a catering gig with Buffets Galore, and a new Ka Huna massage client. I really trust that the universe is reassuring me that things are working out for the best.

Thus ends my brief but intense relationship with Sheraton on the Park.

The Hammer Falls

This was the 12th day I've been working since my last day off, one can say that my last day off was nearly two weeks ago. And I am exhausted. I am looking forward to the end of this shift because according to my roster for next week, I have no shifts.

What was up with that? I asked for three days off next week and I was given seven! The reaction from the other chefs around the kitchen was either envy (eg. I wish I would be given a week off) or incredulity (eg. That's not fair, how can you get so much time off when we're working our arses off?).

Let's say the kitchens aren't that busy, then it makes sense that you cut out the casual cook ie. me. But wouldn't it make more sense to spread the slack around by letting some of your stressed out chefs take an extra day off instead of letting one guy get the whole week off?

Now let's say the kitchens are busy, that's why everyone's been pulling really long hours. So maybe I am being punished for asking for time off. Maybe they are trying to starve me of shifts.

Just before I was about to clock off, the exec sous chef (the #2 guy after the exec chef) says he wants to have a brief chat. I thought great, I can find out what was happening with my roster. In the office he tells me that it's not working out between the hotel and me, that I have been in the hotel for 3 months and that I have not improved to the level that is needed. I was thinking, I've been here exactly 2 months, and that I was starting to get the hang of things, I didn't say this. I simply said that I'm sorry you feel that way. Then he asked me if I wanted some feedback, I said of course. He then proceeded to explain that I don't work quick enough and that I am unable to organise myself well enough for the job, and that the main issue is productivity. They need someone who can pump out the food quickly and efficiently and I am not at that required level.

I was devastated, but I tried to explain that I admit I was struggling in the early days, but was under the impression that I was starting to get the hang of it at least in the past month. He just shook his head and said that, he was sorry but he wasn't going to give me any more shifts, and that it would do them a big favour if I just resigned.

Whoah! Do them a favour by resigning? Then I started to twig the political and procedural implications of me quitting the job. I've worked in a large corporationn before and I know that paperwork is a killer, particular when it came to terminating an employee. If I resigned, then the paperwork for him would be minimal, he could just write up that I wanted to leave and that was that. But if I refused to resign, he would have to write up a reason for terminating my employment, something that would hold up under scrutiny if I decided to make an issue of it.

In hindsight, perhaps the reason I was put on for twelve straight days is so that I can be setup for failure and the exec sous chef can use that as a reason to dismiss me.

Then he asked me what I was going to do now, would I continue being a chef or would I revert to my old profession? The way he said it made me feel like he was certain that he had broken me, that I was not cut out for this work, that maybe I should go back to the cubicle I crawled out from. I felt challenged. At that moment I decided I was going to be a chef even more.

I said good bye to him, shook his hand, and made no promises about resigning. But instead of clocking out, I headed to the banquet kitchen where I was working in earlier today and ask if they need any additional help maybe cleaning up. I spoke with a demi chef and a chef de partie and told them what just happened, they were sympathetic and suggested maybe I should take it up to human resources. I thanked them and told them I'd check my employment contract and see if I have a leg to stand on.

When I finished, another sous chef was on the floor so I said good night to him too, I expected a goodbye-forever handshake, I was expecting it, but all I got was a warm handshake and a thank you for my help today. Oh my god, he had no idea that the exec sous chef had already let me go. The exec sous chef had made that decision to cut me loose on his own -likely sanctioned by the exec chef, but the rest of the sous chefs didn't know.

I spoke to another junior chef and he was surprised as well, we both agreed I was the slowest chef in the kitchen, but it wasn't bad enough to be sacked for. Unfortunately, his opinion doesn't count, only the exec chef and the exec sous.

I've decided that I will take my week off and enjoy it. I have another month on my probationary period with the Sheraton, even if I never get another shift, I will not resign. For as long as I am on their books as a casual cook, there is a chance that one of the other sous chefs will find themselves in a bind and resort to calling me in to work. All it takes is one or two other chefs to call in sick and one of the sous chefs may get desperate enough to countermand the exec sous. I'm sure there is a lot of politics between the sous chefs and I am making myself available as a pawn to be used in their game. All I care about is to last the three months of my probationary period, it would look better in my resume.

You Have to Push Yourself

Pushing yourself seems to be the mantra of chefs, I hear it several times a day at work. Either directed at me or at someone else by someone more senior. And in my current position, everyone is more senior than me -even the 20 year old apprentice.

I've been almost two months at this job now and I am beginning to get a better picture of my roles. When I see my roster, it tells me when my shift is and where I should report. Mostly I've been in the production/runner role, followed by wok bar chef, and sometimes I'm a prep-chef at banqueting. Of all the roles, wok bar is where I feel most competent in, though my sous chefs may disagree. I get put on wok bar when the brasserie is not that busy -because when it is busy, they want somebody who is quicker and more experienced than me. But I'm cool with that, I like the slow days, I have time to chat to guests and distract them while it takes me ages to cook their food hahaha.

Today I met a lovely gentleman who was celebrating his 46th wedding anniversary. They've been married longer than I've been breathing. That blows me away, especially since I'm in love with Beatriz, my mind hit an imaginary fast-forward button and wondered if I could stay alive long enough to be with her for that long. I confess I wished that I would. But enough about that romantic sidetrack, I think what you really want to hear is stories about work. So here goes more.

Sometimes I really dread work because I feel so incompetent at things. When you get told a few times a day that you have to move faster, that you have to "push yourself", it starts to erode your confidence. Yet on the flip side, they keep putting me on shift. If I'm totally useless, then why do they insist on giving me shifts? At my previous job at About Life, they just stopped giving me shifts (and they weren't paying as much as the Sheraton).

Another sign that I think I'm improving is that I am now becoming aware of the politics at work. Is the head chef a good guy or a bad guy? Last Monday, I was ready to label him a bad guy, but today I was working alongside two young chefs and they were saying he was a hard working chef. So now I'm not so sure.

I'd just point to the evidence at hand. According to HR, we have 6 people leaving the kitchen in the space of one month. Since I started working there, there have been 2 other new kitchen staff to join the team. That still means that there is a shortfall of 3 from current staffing levels. But when you factor that the people leaving are quite senior, and the staff joining are very junior, the experience loss is quite evident.

What I'm seeing is the same as what I see in the white collar sector where the jobs that need doing are still the same, but the expectation is to accomplish the same level with less staff. Hence why you must push yourself, so that what used to take me one hour to do now takes me 30 minutes and I can do more. But when does it stop? I bet the Sous Chefs no longer push themselves.