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.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
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.
*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.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Eight and Nine days since last day off
Today was going to be an awesome day, I was starting to get a grip on things. Everything was going alright until midway through the breakfast service I started to feel aches and pains in my body. My trapezius muscles were protesting any movement I make. My ability to focus was impaired.
Commis [Paul] asked me if I was okay with a very concerned look. I told him I was just really physically tired from not having a day off in over a week. He suggested caffeine, I politely refused, I would try and tough it out for as long as I could.
Which wasn't really all that long, when the breakfast service finished, I checked the lunch bookings: 16 guests, so I then went and asked Sous chef (Sanjoy) if I could be sent home early since I was feeling crook and it won't be that busy anyway. He said yes, just finish some of this prep and you can go at 12:30. I was almost finished with the prep when Sous Sanjoy disappeared just as Executive Sous Joseph came in. Exec Sous gave me some more jobs to do so I kept doing them. Then Sous Sanjoy came by and asked why I was still here, I said Joseph gave me more jobs to do. Well then go home when you finish what you were doing. I got out of there at 1:30PM.
I went to the doctors and got myself a certificate saying I had a viral infection, and doctors advise saying I should stand up for myself and not accept such long rosters. I got home, popped a gram of paracetamol and slept. Then I got up to go visit at Bea's place when I discovered I couldn't find my keys. How could that be? I used those keys to get home and get my sleep. After a half hour of panicked searching, I gave up and visited Bea. I didn't want to lose precious Beatime in a futile search.
The ninth day (Thursday), the final day before I get my first day off in 9 days, I got to work and tried to discover the process for lost locker keys. I'm sure it happens all the time. Apparently the procedure is designed to make you hate losing your keys. I have to find the hotel duty manager, who has the master keys, to open and lock my locker for me. This is just so clever because all this time you feel like you're wasting someone else's time because of your carelessness. I got in to the kitchen 14 minutes later, Sanjoy chewed me out for being late. In the process I found out how to let the kitchen know if I wasn't gonna make it on time. They were having kittens wondering how they would be able to handle the 400+ breakfast service one hand short. Even after Sanjoy chewed me out, I got the sense they were relieved I was on board for the breakfast service.
Commis Paul and I shared a moment when he told me he admired what I was doing. He said not many people your age are willing to try something different.
Commis [Paul] asked me if I was okay with a very concerned look. I told him I was just really physically tired from not having a day off in over a week. He suggested caffeine, I politely refused, I would try and tough it out for as long as I could.
Which wasn't really all that long, when the breakfast service finished, I checked the lunch bookings: 16 guests, so I then went and asked Sous chef (Sanjoy) if I could be sent home early since I was feeling crook and it won't be that busy anyway. He said yes, just finish some of this prep and you can go at 12:30. I was almost finished with the prep when Sous Sanjoy disappeared just as Executive Sous Joseph came in. Exec Sous gave me some more jobs to do so I kept doing them. Then Sous Sanjoy came by and asked why I was still here, I said Joseph gave me more jobs to do. Well then go home when you finish what you were doing. I got out of there at 1:30PM.
I went to the doctors and got myself a certificate saying I had a viral infection, and doctors advise saying I should stand up for myself and not accept such long rosters. I got home, popped a gram of paracetamol and slept. Then I got up to go visit at Bea's place when I discovered I couldn't find my keys. How could that be? I used those keys to get home and get my sleep. After a half hour of panicked searching, I gave up and visited Bea. I didn't want to lose precious Beatime in a futile search.
The ninth day (Thursday), the final day before I get my first day off in 9 days, I got to work and tried to discover the process for lost locker keys. I'm sure it happens all the time. Apparently the procedure is designed to make you hate losing your keys. I have to find the hotel duty manager, who has the master keys, to open and lock my locker for me. This is just so clever because all this time you feel like you're wasting someone else's time because of your carelessness. I got in to the kitchen 14 minutes later, Sanjoy chewed me out for being late. In the process I found out how to let the kitchen know if I wasn't gonna make it on time. They were having kittens wondering how they would be able to handle the 400+ breakfast service one hand short. Even after Sanjoy chewed me out, I got the sense they were relieved I was on board for the breakfast service.
Commis Paul and I shared a moment when he told me he admired what I was doing. He said not many people your age are willing to try something different.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Getting Traction
This is my third week at the Sheraton and I'm starting to feel like I'm finally getting traction with this job. The last few days have been a struggle because I'm being torn with a few conflicting things about this job.
When I am on wok bar, I have to set up and do breakfast and lunch service. I officially start at 6:30AM (hence the 04:25AM wake up to catch the 5:02AM train to get to work by 6AM. As soon as I get there I have to get my station ready for making omelettes, poached and fried eggs. First customer walks in at 6:30AM and I have to be ready.
A couple of cool things happened at the breakfast service today. There's this asian chick who looked so familiar asking me for poached eggs. Then it hit me who she was so I just blurted out "Oh, Natalie ... ahhh youtuber ... ummm what can I get for you?" Thee was a queue of about 4 people waiting for their omelettes, so I was so busy I couldn't introduce myself properly or have a photo taken with Natalie http://www.youtube.com/user/communitychannel. Then when I fished out her poached eggs, one of the yolks had broken. I offered to make her another one, but she just said that "It all goes down to the same place anyway." And then took her broken poached eggs with her. Bloody typical, we had Lady Gaga staying at the hotel, but did I ever get to serve her? Instead, it's this other semi-celebrity. It felt really weird that I know so much about her (due to her VLOGS) and yet she knows nothing of me, I'm not even young enough to be in her audience demography (ie. 15-25). I just begged her to please not vlog about the poached egg I had ruined for her.
The second cool thing was this older english gentlemen and he tells me I make the best omelettes. It feels great to be appreciated.
The best part of the day was finishing my prep at 4:08PM, I was only nearly an hour overtime, I usually spend at least 2 hours chopping and dicing. I'm slowly getting things right, and that is fuckin' awsome!
When I am on wok bar, I have to set up and do breakfast and lunch service. I officially start at 6:30AM (hence the 04:25AM wake up to catch the 5:02AM train to get to work by 6AM. As soon as I get there I have to get my station ready for making omelettes, poached and fried eggs. First customer walks in at 6:30AM and I have to be ready.
A couple of cool things happened at the breakfast service today. There's this asian chick who looked so familiar asking me for poached eggs. Then it hit me who she was so I just blurted out "Oh, Natalie ... ahhh youtuber ... ummm what can I get for you?" Thee was a queue of about 4 people waiting for their omelettes, so I was so busy I couldn't introduce myself properly or have a photo taken with Natalie http://www.youtube.com/user/communitychannel. Then when I fished out her poached eggs, one of the yolks had broken. I offered to make her another one, but she just said that "It all goes down to the same place anyway." And then took her broken poached eggs with her. Bloody typical, we had Lady Gaga staying at the hotel, but did I ever get to serve her? Instead, it's this other semi-celebrity. It felt really weird that I know so much about her (due to her VLOGS) and yet she knows nothing of me, I'm not even young enough to be in her audience demography (ie. 15-25). I just begged her to please not vlog about the poached egg I had ruined for her.
The second cool thing was this older english gentlemen and he tells me I make the best omelettes. It feels great to be appreciated.
The best part of the day was finishing my prep at 4:08PM, I was only nearly an hour overtime, I usually spend at least 2 hours chopping and dicing. I'm slowly getting things right, and that is fuckin' awsome!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Shout to the world
I am in love. I mean, really in love. With the woman of my dreams. I can't believe how perfect my life is. I am pursuing my dreams, taking the craziest chance, like an explorer on a one way journey.
I've been on a few of these self-help workshops and seminars, where they tell you that you can have what you want. All you have to do is believe that you deserve the very best. I had always thought that it was easier to say than to make happen. However, I can now unequivocally say that it does work.
I am a fledgling chef in a major hotel, getting the apprenticeship that I had not had the opportunity to obtain. It's not without great challenges. At 4:25AM I am constantly asking myself why am I doing this? Yet my response is always, because it is your dream. If you hate it so much, then give up. But I don't. I love it. Even the moments when it seems like it's getting a little bit too hard.
And then I remember that I have the love of a beautiful woman who stands behind me, supporting my dreams. And sharing hers. I am unstoppable. I can be slowed down, but nothing can stop me achieving my dreams.
I just want to shout to the world that I am utterly, totally, completely in love with you, Beatriz. You are my ultimate dream.
I've been on a few of these self-help workshops and seminars, where they tell you that you can have what you want. All you have to do is believe that you deserve the very best. I had always thought that it was easier to say than to make happen. However, I can now unequivocally say that it does work.
I am a fledgling chef in a major hotel, getting the apprenticeship that I had not had the opportunity to obtain. It's not without great challenges. At 4:25AM I am constantly asking myself why am I doing this? Yet my response is always, because it is your dream. If you hate it so much, then give up. But I don't. I love it. Even the moments when it seems like it's getting a little bit too hard.
And then I remember that I have the love of a beautiful woman who stands behind me, supporting my dreams. And sharing hers. I am unstoppable. I can be slowed down, but nothing can stop me achieving my dreams.
I just want to shout to the world that I am utterly, totally, completely in love with you, Beatriz. You are my ultimate dream.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
On Training Wheels
Monday I had the worst day at work yet. I was being trained for a new station -the wok bar. During breakfast buffet, this is where the guests come to get freshly made omelettes, poached or fried eggs. In my previous life, I would always take advantage of this feature if it was available in a hotel I was staying at. Anyway, I thought, piece of cake, I know how to make omelettes, fry, and poach an egg. Piece of cake, so I thought.
Another casual chef has been looking after this section for months, let's call her Sweetie Pie, because she's so sweet to the guests, and they love her. She was given the task of training me over the next three days on this station, after which the training wheels come off. Initially she was very sweet and helpful, but every time I make a mistake, the sweetness turns into acid in a fraction of a second. From my perspective, the mistakes were due to miscommunication, I felt I was doing what she asked me. From her perspective, she feels I failed to listen. She would initially allow me to start doing things, and then get frustrated because I was doing it wrong or not to the proper standard and then take over. She was a total control freak, but when I had a chance to think about it, it was understandable. She was responsible to for the job and she couldn't allow me to screw it up for her.
I also learned there were a few VIPs that we had to look after. There's the hotel's Managing Director who likes his omelette a particular way, and there is this high powered couple who are long term guests, he has a special bowl of mixed berries prepared for him, and she likes an egg white omelette cooked with no oil. On this day, Sweetie Pie makes the MD's special omelette and was pretty proud of it. The executive chef later came back and showed us a piece of plastic that was in the omelette. She was mortified, it's never happened before, and to have it happen to the biggest VIP in the hotel, essentially, the one man who can get her fired, I could see her hurting.
This whole business of VIPs makes me feel like I am somehow an inferior and less important being. But reflecting upon it now, why would it matter to me that other people believe they are more important than me? I get paid to do my job, and that includes showing respect to these VIPs. If I wasn't in the job, they are just ordinary people. So while I have my uniform on, it's yes sir, whatever you want sir, right away sir. Really not much different from my old office job eh?
At the end of the day, Sweetie Pie had a conversation and I took on board that I should listen first before jumping in and doing the wrong thing.
We reset on Tuesday morning, the sous chef spoke to her and told her he wants to see me making omelettes. The sous chef sent her off on other jobs and then came to my station and asked me to make a ham tomato cheese omelette and another with just mushroom. I was nervous as hell, but I fired up the two pans and simultaneously cooked two omelettes. When I finished he then started explaining technical things to me about the subtleties of making omelettes. About the pan, about the flame, really in detail. Things I never thought about but made absolute sense. Then he demonstrated and I compared his thick fluffy omelette to my heavy one. Armed with new knowledge, he asked me to make another one, it was better. He said I should practice when it is not too busy, then left me on my own for a while.
Guests came over and I was making breakfast eggs left right and centre. I was cooking! Who knew there was so much to know about making the humble omelette?
Another casual chef has been looking after this section for months, let's call her Sweetie Pie, because she's so sweet to the guests, and they love her. She was given the task of training me over the next three days on this station, after which the training wheels come off. Initially she was very sweet and helpful, but every time I make a mistake, the sweetness turns into acid in a fraction of a second. From my perspective, the mistakes were due to miscommunication, I felt I was doing what she asked me. From her perspective, she feels I failed to listen. She would initially allow me to start doing things, and then get frustrated because I was doing it wrong or not to the proper standard and then take over. She was a total control freak, but when I had a chance to think about it, it was understandable. She was responsible to for the job and she couldn't allow me to screw it up for her.
I also learned there were a few VIPs that we had to look after. There's the hotel's Managing Director who likes his omelette a particular way, and there is this high powered couple who are long term guests, he has a special bowl of mixed berries prepared for him, and she likes an egg white omelette cooked with no oil. On this day, Sweetie Pie makes the MD's special omelette and was pretty proud of it. The executive chef later came back and showed us a piece of plastic that was in the omelette. She was mortified, it's never happened before, and to have it happen to the biggest VIP in the hotel, essentially, the one man who can get her fired, I could see her hurting.
This whole business of VIPs makes me feel like I am somehow an inferior and less important being. But reflecting upon it now, why would it matter to me that other people believe they are more important than me? I get paid to do my job, and that includes showing respect to these VIPs. If I wasn't in the job, they are just ordinary people. So while I have my uniform on, it's yes sir, whatever you want sir, right away sir. Really not much different from my old office job eh?
At the end of the day, Sweetie Pie had a conversation and I took on board that I should listen first before jumping in and doing the wrong thing.
We reset on Tuesday morning, the sous chef spoke to her and told her he wants to see me making omelettes. The sous chef sent her off on other jobs and then came to my station and asked me to make a ham tomato cheese omelette and another with just mushroom. I was nervous as hell, but I fired up the two pans and simultaneously cooked two omelettes. When I finished he then started explaining technical things to me about the subtleties of making omelettes. About the pan, about the flame, really in detail. Things I never thought about but made absolute sense. Then he demonstrated and I compared his thick fluffy omelette to my heavy one. Armed with new knowledge, he asked me to make another one, it was better. He said I should practice when it is not too busy, then left me on my own for a while.
Guests came over and I was making breakfast eggs left right and centre. I was cooking! Who knew there was so much to know about making the humble omelette?
Monday, March 29, 2010
I can do this
I have had a roller coaster of the last few days. I pretty much worked about 60 hours on my first week! Not bad for a casual cook. Last Thursday I worked in banqueting doing the prep for a function of 200 pax on Friday and a wedding for another 200 pax on Saturday. The CDP* I was working for was very handy with advise when he would observe me doing something something not quite right, or simply innefficient. I enjoyed listening to his explanation and take it on board. He made me feel like I can do this job, even if I was rough at the corners.
Then Friday I was back to the basement kitchen with GM** and helping Shanti with the fruit section. This was a very familiar section to me, as I had spent most of my work experience here in 2007 learning how to peel, seed, slice, and plate fruit. I was beginning to feel like I am starting to contribute some speed to the operation.
Saturday night I was on the level 1 kitchen where we ran the buffet. It was familiar and new at the same time. My prior experience with buffets have served me well, all I needed was to remember where the backup*** for all the buffet items are. The Executive Sous Chef (Rick) was very good at explaining what he needed of me and gave me confidence I can do the job. Running the buffet is mostly about making sure all platters and trays were filled with food and presentable. I start by patrolling the buffet table and fixing up any spills or replacing serving spoons that have become soiled, or just tidying up the presentation, but as soon as I spot one or more trays at less than half fill, I had to run back to the kitchen and bring back a fresh tray top it up. Often when bringing back an empty tray, I will spot the next item(s) to be refilled so that I won't waste a trip to the kitchen. It's amusing watching the customers gorge themselves on prawns and oysters.
Another casual, Paul, showed me two ways to wash the oysters in a lemon water solution. The first involved holding two pieces at a time and he referred to it as the proper way. Then he showed me his 'cowboy' way of grabbing five or six pieces at a time, explaining that this was the only way he could get the job done and still finish his shift on time. I tried both ways and found that the cowboy way only got me dropping an oyster and spending ages fishing it back out of the washing solution. He said suit yourself. The hardest part of the job was packing up for the night.
Then Friday I was back to the basement kitchen with GM** and helping Shanti with the fruit section. This was a very familiar section to me, as I had spent most of my work experience here in 2007 learning how to peel, seed, slice, and plate fruit. I was beginning to feel like I am starting to contribute some speed to the operation.
Saturday night I was on the level 1 kitchen where we ran the buffet. It was familiar and new at the same time. My prior experience with buffets have served me well, all I needed was to remember where the backup*** for all the buffet items are. The Executive Sous Chef (Rick) was very good at explaining what he needed of me and gave me confidence I can do the job. Running the buffet is mostly about making sure all platters and trays were filled with food and presentable. I start by patrolling the buffet table and fixing up any spills or replacing serving spoons that have become soiled, or just tidying up the presentation, but as soon as I spot one or more trays at less than half fill, I had to run back to the kitchen and bring back a fresh tray top it up. Often when bringing back an empty tray, I will spot the next item(s) to be refilled so that I won't waste a trip to the kitchen. It's amusing watching the customers gorge themselves on prawns and oysters.
Another casual, Paul, showed me two ways to wash the oysters in a lemon water solution. The first involved holding two pieces at a time and he referred to it as the proper way. Then he showed me his 'cowboy' way of grabbing five or six pieces at a time, explaining that this was the only way he could get the job done and still finish his shift on time. I tried both ways and found that the cowboy way only got me dropping an oyster and spending ages fishing it back out of the washing solution. He said suit yourself. The hardest part of the job was packing up for the night.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Caught out again
On day three, another 6AM start, I made sure to pick up my uniform the day before. When I came in, I realised I had been caught out again! I did not ask for the buttons that go with my chefs jacket (yes they are removable). Once again, I had to break in to the laundry and grab those buttons to put on my jacket before I could clock in for work.
The day went rather quickly, the highlight was when I spent the better part of the afternoon learning to use the meat slicer on 15 kilos of ham, 2 kilos of salami, and 2 kilos of rare roast beef. That was because the darn thing is a bugger to clean, so instead of doing a bit of slicing here and there and cleaning it after each use, I decided to do all the slicing at once AND THEN clean it once. You'd think I was smart, but my true stupidity showed itself when while running the machine I found myself trying to unclog the spinning blade with my finger so I wouldn't have to stop. Fortunately some part of me screamed: DUDE! Seriously NOT A GOOD IDEA! I should listen to that voice more often, because today I can still say I have all my fingers.
The day went rather quickly, the highlight was when I spent the better part of the afternoon learning to use the meat slicer on 15 kilos of ham, 2 kilos of salami, and 2 kilos of rare roast beef. That was because the darn thing is a bugger to clean, so instead of doing a bit of slicing here and there and cleaning it after each use, I decided to do all the slicing at once AND THEN clean it once. You'd think I was smart, but my true stupidity showed itself when while running the machine I found myself trying to unclog the spinning blade with my finger so I wouldn't have to stop. Fortunately some part of me screamed: DUDE! Seriously NOT A GOOD IDEA! I should listen to that voice more often, because today I can still say I have all my fingers.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Trap for Novice Players
For the next four days, I am on shift from 6AM to 2:30PM. Yes, it's an early start but I tell myself it's not as bad as the 5AM starts back at About Life last year.
Also, since I am now working in the city, I've decided to catch the train to work. I wanted to be the average working joe blue-collar complete with the commute. I set my alarm for 4:30AM to catch the early train.
As I switched off the alarm, still groggy, I stumbled into the shower to really wake myself up. I managed to rush out the door and got across the road when I realised I forgot my knives. Holy crap, I don't even have my housekeys to get back in and get my knives. I had to call my sister to let me back in, and after a quick jog I made the early train.
I got to work on time, and found my housekeys in my locker, thank god, but when I went to collect my uniform for the day, the laundry was not staffed. WTF is the point of getting on time but not get to work because I haven't got my uniform? Then I saw other people picking out clothes from the racks. The door was open so I got inside and got a uniform. Later I was to learn that if I needed to get my uniform the day before if my shift starts earlier than 7AM when the first laundry staff begins their shift.
The rest of day at the cold section involved making over 200 canapes, cutting more brunoise, being on service for the canapes, and searing 150 rolled lamb shoulders (putting 50 at a time, by the time number 50 is on, it's time to start turning number 1). But the moment of the day was when, one of the other sous chefs asked me to work a shift in his section on Thursday. He actually thinks (or expects?) I can do the job in his section.
I managed to clock off at 4:30PM, man, has this been a long day. Especially impressive considering I didn't take a single break, no lunch, no ciggie break, not even a toilet break! I must have bladders of steel :-)
Also, since I am now working in the city, I've decided to catch the train to work. I wanted to be the average working joe blue-collar complete with the commute. I set my alarm for 4:30AM to catch the early train.
As I switched off the alarm, still groggy, I stumbled into the shower to really wake myself up. I managed to rush out the door and got across the road when I realised I forgot my knives. Holy crap, I don't even have my housekeys to get back in and get my knives. I had to call my sister to let me back in, and after a quick jog I made the early train.
I got to work on time, and found my housekeys in my locker, thank god, but when I went to collect my uniform for the day, the laundry was not staffed. WTF is the point of getting on time but not get to work because I haven't got my uniform? Then I saw other people picking out clothes from the racks. The door was open so I got inside and got a uniform. Later I was to learn that if I needed to get my uniform the day before if my shift starts earlier than 7AM when the first laundry staff begins their shift.
The rest of day at the cold section involved making over 200 canapes, cutting more brunoise, being on service for the canapes, and searing 150 rolled lamb shoulders (putting 50 at a time, by the time number 50 is on, it's time to start turning number 1). But the moment of the day was when, one of the other sous chefs asked me to work a shift in his section on Thursday. He actually thinks (or expects?) I can do the job in his section.
I managed to clock off at 4:30PM, man, has this been a long day. Especially impressive considering I didn't take a single break, no lunch, no ciggie break, not even a toilet break! I must have bladders of steel :-)
Monday, March 22, 2010
How Not to be Popular with Laundry and Housekeeping
When I got home after my first day, I was horrified to discover I didn't have my housekeys on me. Or my bag. Fuck I lost my keys. Where was the last time I saw it? At the locker room at work. Hold on, I may have left it in my chef's trousers and then handed the garment back to housekeeping for laundry. So I call the Sheraton and asked to be connected to the laundry section. I explained my predicament to the lady who answered and she told me to ring back in 10 minutes, because the trousers are in the drier and the cycle will soon finish. She can tell me then if she's found it. When I called back she said they weren't there. I said, they must be still hanging on my locker then. She sent someone to check my locker after I gave her my number and they found it! We decided to leave the locker unlocked* with my keys in it to pick up in the morning when I return to work.
Meanwhile I was still locked out of my apartment until my sister gets home. With about 40 minutes to kill, I decided to pass the time checking out the specials at my local Aldi supermarket. There I ran into an old friend and we ended up chatting over coffee for over an hour.
Forgetting my keys allowed that to happen.
*Note: Is there anything as unfulfilled as an unlocked locker? An unsung song? An untold tale? yeah, whatever, I can tell I'm losing audience interest, hence presenting it as a footnote.
Meanwhile I was still locked out of my apartment until my sister gets home. With about 40 minutes to kill, I decided to pass the time checking out the specials at my local Aldi supermarket. There I ran into an old friend and we ended up chatting over coffee for over an hour.
Forgetting my keys allowed that to happen.
*Note: Is there anything as unfulfilled as an unlocked locker? An unsung song? An untold tale? yeah, whatever, I can tell I'm losing audience interest, hence presenting it as a footnote.
First day
My first day I had to come in at 9AM and sign my employment contract, and all manner of paperwork typical of working with a large corporation. In contrast, the last job I got was just a phonecall, then come to work and oh wait before you go home, yeah, please fill in the tax declaration form, and here's your paycheck, have fun thanks.
Then this young and pretty girl from HR (Why is it that the HR department seems to employ a lot of hot chicks?) takes us on an orientation tour of the hotel's staff area. When you are at a hotel, ever noticed certain doors and sections are marked "STAFF ONLY" or "AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY"? Well, that's were we work. Things are not as flashy as the dimly lit, carpeted, and fine decor of the guest areas. At best, the staff area can be described as utilitarian.
Someone had the brilliant idea that every regular passage into the guest area are preceded by a full length mirror and the words "I am Sheraton" above it. This is an incredibly powerful auto-hypnotic suggestion. Think about it. I'm carrying a tray of food into the dining area and I end up checking myself out before I emerge. Having read that declaration I start to wonder if I am presentable enough to represent the hotel. Maybe try to hide that splash of tomato on my tunic front. The point is I have thought the words "I am Sheraton" and made an effort to embody that establishment before realising this wasn't my thought, it was put into me. Scary.
It was also surprising that some of the kitchen staff remembered me from two years ago. I recognise faces, but lucky we had name tags, it was easy to say "Hello again Rick" when he patted my shoulder to say welcome back. It let the other kitchen staff know that hey, I used to work here. Now I'm wondering why they remembered me when all I did was work Saturday and Sunday over a two month period. I hope they remembered me because I was capable, or at least a nice guy.
Then this young and pretty girl from HR (Why is it that the HR department seems to employ a lot of hot chicks?) takes us on an orientation tour of the hotel's staff area. When you are at a hotel, ever noticed certain doors and sections are marked "STAFF ONLY" or "AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY"? Well, that's were we work. Things are not as flashy as the dimly lit, carpeted, and fine decor of the guest areas. At best, the staff area can be described as utilitarian.
Someone had the brilliant idea that every regular passage into the guest area are preceded by a full length mirror and the words "I am Sheraton" above it. This is an incredibly powerful auto-hypnotic suggestion. Think about it. I'm carrying a tray of food into the dining area and I end up checking myself out before I emerge. Having read that declaration I start to wonder if I am presentable enough to represent the hotel. Maybe try to hide that splash of tomato on my tunic front. The point is I have thought the words "I am Sheraton" and made an effort to embody that establishment before realising this wasn't my thought, it was put into me. Scary.
It was also surprising that some of the kitchen staff remembered me from two years ago. I recognise faces, but lucky we had name tags, it was easy to say "Hello again Rick" when he patted my shoulder to say welcome back. It let the other kitchen staff know that hey, I used to work here. Now I'm wondering why they remembered me when all I did was work Saturday and Sunday over a two month period. I hope they remembered me because I was capable, or at least a nice guy.
Friday, March 19, 2010
New Beginnings
Yesterday I got a call from Sheraton on the Park, they want me to start on Monday. I went on a job interview with two sous chefs last Tuesday. It was an interesting interview because it was all so official. The last interviews I have had in the hospitality industry have been rather informal affairs and was usually preceded by a trial shift. This made me believe that interviews in this industry were secondary only to your ability to perform in the kitchen. Turns out that that was only true some of the time. I landed this job by virtue of an interview only. I suppose they can still dump me if I am not up to the task, but at least, I get a shot at the goal.
I can remember feeling this giddy twenty five years ago when I just finished my Computer Science degree and landed a job with Burroughs Corporation. God I was so optimistic and ambitious, I was going to make computing history. Oh to be young and naive!
We had to walk through some office cubicles to a meeting room for the interview. I had an eerie feeling walking past the nine-to-fivers and remembering that I used to be one of them for 25 years. Getting paid relatively well to sit on my arse. During the interview I had to tell contextual anecdotes from my IT career as well as my fledgling cooking career. It felt good. It felt like I nailed it. I checked the wall clock on the way out and we were there for over an hour. A long interview is an excellent sign.
This is where it starts for me. All this time I have been working functions, I always enjoyed it and wished I could do it every day. I may get my wish finally. I'm excited about meeting new people and forming new work relationships. But mostly I am looking forward to making yummy food that guests will enjoy because I am cooking with passion and love. Bring it on!
I can remember feeling this giddy twenty five years ago when I just finished my Computer Science degree and landed a job with Burroughs Corporation. God I was so optimistic and ambitious, I was going to make computing history. Oh to be young and naive!
We had to walk through some office cubicles to a meeting room for the interview. I had an eerie feeling walking past the nine-to-fivers and remembering that I used to be one of them for 25 years. Getting paid relatively well to sit on my arse. During the interview I had to tell contextual anecdotes from my IT career as well as my fledgling cooking career. It felt good. It felt like I nailed it. I checked the wall clock on the way out and we were there for over an hour. A long interview is an excellent sign.
This is where it starts for me. All this time I have been working functions, I always enjoyed it and wished I could do it every day. I may get my wish finally. I'm excited about meeting new people and forming new work relationships. But mostly I am looking forward to making yummy food that guests will enjoy because I am cooking with passion and love. Bring it on!
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Another Breakthrough
This has been such an awesome week. I started it by submitting an article to the Sydney Morning Herald and that got published (see previous entry). It was amusing how people commented on the SMH site but no one commented on this blog. I guess no reads this blog who cares enough to be offended. But boy oh boy where they offended at SMH. I was tempted to reply, but then I thought, meh they would have been offended no matter how it was edited, so I let it go.
On the same day I submitted to Heckler, I also responded to a casting call that a couple of actor friends forwarded to me (independently of each other). They needed some buddhist monks and my friends thought I was suited. The casting agent and director happened to agree and cast me in the small role. The bonus is it's a speaking part. Yay!
Today we had some rehearsals and we tried out a few things. The director was pleased, so I'm looking forward to the shoot on Monday. I'll let you know how it goes. Film should be finished by end of March. You can watch the trailer here.
On the same day I submitted to Heckler, I also responded to a casting call that a couple of actor friends forwarded to me (independently of each other). They needed some buddhist monks and my friends thought I was suited. The casting agent and director happened to agree and cast me in the small role. The bonus is it's a speaking part. Yay!
Today we had some rehearsals and we tried out a few things. The director was pleased, so I'm looking forward to the shoot on Monday. I'll let you know how it goes. Film should be finished by end of March. You can watch the trailer here.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
I've been published! Yayy -I think.
My writing career started when I got myself involved with the student literary publication of De La Salle University in Manila during my third year. Really I thought I was a clever writer and I had a huge crush on the Editor. Since then I've had my words published in an in-house company newsletter, then I moved up to a small circulation Australian magazine, and I even got paid for a piece I wrote for an industry magazine in the Philippines. Today was my biggest writing coup, I managed to get into the Sydney Morning Herald's Heckler column. This is my widest readership ever.
So the good news is I got published, Yay! The bad news is it wasn't as good as I thought it would be. The piece was published in a way that I had not anticipated. I expected that the editors would have to trim and tweak the piece to fit into the word budget. Unfortunately, I feel that too much was lost from the editing. I've already had feedback asking me what was my point in the article?
Rather than explain myself, I decided to re-publish my original submission to Heckler right here on this blog. No word limits here, so read it as I wrote it. Was it better before editing or not? You tell me.
*update 9 Feb 2010: In the SMH site, a lot of the counter arguments (apart from the yukk you're eating corpses variety) were talking about environmental impact of livestock ie. water, carbon emissions, etc. Well now you can have your meat and eat it too -kangaroo meat
**update 17 May 2018. Interesting piece that echo my sentiments above, but much better researched. Bravo! http://medium.com/@drewfrench/grass-fed-beef-the-most-vegan-item-in-the-supermarket-8c46b45a0d47
So the good news is I got published, Yay! The bad news is it wasn't as good as I thought it would be. The piece was published in a way that I had not anticipated. I expected that the editors would have to trim and tweak the piece to fit into the word budget. Unfortunately, I feel that too much was lost from the editing. I've already had feedback asking me what was my point in the article?
Rather than explain myself, I decided to re-publish my original submission to Heckler right here on this blog. No word limits here, so read it as I wrote it. Was it better before editing or not? You tell me.
Vegans Raise My Hackles
It rankles me when vegetarians justify themselves by saying they want to be cruelty-free. Mind you it's my fault for pressing the point and insisting that they explain why they have to make life difficult by going vegetarian in the first place.
If they had just said that "I just like vegetables more than I will ever like meat", then there would be no more argument. It's when they go all holier than thou, yes I'm looking at you hot vegan chick, and declare that we should be of a higher consciousness to be able to live without harming our fellow creatures that my primitive hackles arise. To thee I exclaim absolute bovine excrement!
There's a good reason we are the dominant species on this planet. We got ahead on the food and nutrition stakes above all other creatures by eating them. Oh yes baby, it's called the food chain. Our brains and bodies were so full of yummy protein we were able to evolve and outsmart every other creature in existence. In fact we got so smart we domesticated some of them. And in their defence, they managed to survive in symbiosis with us. How many chooks, sheep, and cattle do you think there would be now if we as a race weren't so addicted to eating them? For as long as the human race exists, they will too, and in greater numbers. I dare say when we venture out to colonise space, they're coming along with us. Something they could never accomplish on their own. All in exchange for being consumed at the artificially determined end of their lives, ie. when they are at their tastiest.
Cruelty you say? Have you seen what old age does to animals in the wild? No one has, because sooner rather than later, they fall prey to disease, hunger, misadventure or predation. Of those choices, which do you think is the least cruel? Slaughter is just a more efficient form of predation.
Do not fool yourself by thinking that if you don't partake of flesh or flesh products that you have removed yourself from the evil system of animal cruelty. When you drive your car, you are killing hundreds of insects (just ask any motorbike rider). You want to be conscious? Think about all the connections. Soybean farmer may or may not use a tractor or pesticides, but at some point in the process any or all of these things get involved: plow, spade, watering can, harvesters, sickles, hose, buckets, barrels, sacks, water, oil, fuel, electricity, roads, telephones, computers, planes, trucks, trains, ships, cranes, warehouses, forklifts, boots, refrigeration, factories, satellites, etc. You get the idea? It would be impossible to get everything cruelty free. Just being born in a hospital built and maintained by meat-eaters you have already compromised your position.
The only way to take yourself out of this animal exploitation system is to divest yourself of all the benefits of the system. You can't say you are cruelty-free for as long as you use your mobile phone, blog on the internet, sip your organic soy latte while munching on your vegan chocolate muffins baked in oven made in Italy with components made in China of raw materials mined in Tanzania.
Yes commercialisation of food production is ultimately cruel to animals, but without that commercial efficiency, our civilisation would not reach the zenith we are now enjoying. Can you imagine how far we would get if we are restricted by antiquated farming methods? We'd not be able to feed as much. Too busy making food to survive, no time to ponder arts and science, and engineering. We'd not be able to reach this cultural and technological apex that is still continuously evolving.
So unless we abandon all that our civilisation has to offer, unless we happen to be Jake Sully from the movie Avatar and go completely native, we can never be fully cruelty-free. The best we can do is minimise it, accept that we are doing the best we can, and enjoy our steaks.
*update 9 Feb 2010: In the SMH site, a lot of the counter arguments (apart from the yukk you're eating corpses variety) were talking about environmental impact of livestock ie. water, carbon emissions, etc. Well now you can have your meat and eat it too -kangaroo meat
**update 17 May 2018. Interesting piece that echo my sentiments above, but much better researched. Bravo! http://medium.com/@drewfrench/grass-fed-beef-the-most-vegan-item-in-the-supermarket-8c46b45a0d47
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Recognition and Validation
First of all, I want to own up that I have not been active enough trying to make my dream come true. I've been uhh preoccupied, yep, I've been distracted with my dancing.
At first I just thought it would be cool to have a dance partner. Someone with whom to help each other explore and grow as dancers.
I admit I still kinda choke whenever I find myself referring to myself as a dancer. Who me? I'm just a bloke who dances salsa for fun. That excuse doesn't wash anymore, it reeks of false modesty and blows back in my face how cowardly I can be. Calling myself a dancer would mean I have to continuously nurture dance as my art form, my passion. It looks like I have long ago passed the point where dancing was just a mere hobby.
Kathrine set our first goal which was to perform in a dance competition. This would mean we'll choreograph a competition piece and dance it. I've been wanting to try my hand choreography so I said yes before I realised she wanted to do it in the Swango dance style. Oh great, she just picked my two weakest dances, namely Argentine Tango and Swing. Oh and one more thing, we have about three weeks to be ready.
I felt raw fear for the first time in ages. Fear that what I could come up with in three weeks would not be to the standard that I imagine myself to be. Have you ever thought yourself to be good at something, say baking, and then want to have your opinion of how good you are to be validated somehow? You'd want your cake to be judged by a panel of experts and even rank you against your peers so you know how good you are relative to others.
Problem is if you over-estimate your own rank, you may think you are better than most, but what if you are wrong? Getting judged could confirm or dash your ego.
I chose to face my fear. I said yeah sure let's do it, sounds like fun. I had just seen Wicked (the Broadway musical), and one of the inspiring songs was called "Defying Gravity", so I thought, yeah what the heck let's try defying gravity.
We spent the first week picking out and trying moves to match the music. By the second week we had tested the moves in sequence to the music and fixed up the bits that didn't fit, didn't work, or didn't flow. Then we had a week to rehearse the choreography. On top of that we also got the music track edited so it's a digestible two and a half minutes instead of its 7 minute original version. And don't forget picking out the costume.
I didn't realise how many other creative minds have contributed to allow Kathrine and myself to express our art.
There were times in the process of creation that I would lapse into despair because I couldn't do a move or couldn't remember a sequence. I learned to offer my ideas and accept her ideas too. Last night, we performed it for competition.
I felt really good about our execution, we had one minor mistake that we were able to fudge because how do the judges know it wasn't meant to go down that way? We performed as good as I knew we were capable. Having the judges say so would be nice.
We were ranked 7 out of 10. According to the judges, we were only better than 3 other acts on the night. My personal assessment was that I liked only two other routines better than mine so in my mind we were ranked 3rd. Quite a gap between rank 3 and rank 7 don't you think? I was resigned to the fact that our expression of creativity may not be able to tick all the judgement criteria.
The way I understand it now, performing it has given me validation of how good I thought I was. However, we missed out on recognition, by not placing in the rank I thought ourselves to be. Yet I was okay with that, it just means that what we made did not fit the judges criteria. I didn't get outside confirmation but I got inner validation of my ability as a dancer. My ego was intact.
I was so pumped with adrenalin that even after getting home at 3:30AM, I couldn't fall asleep until about 5.
Tonight I made up my mind to compete in the Jack & Jill. That's when the competitors get paired up randomly and freestyle to a couple of random songs, the idea being that one is unlikely to end up with their regular dance partner and so it becomes a true test of lead and follow.
When I was asked to pick a category: Beginners, Intermediate, or Teachers. I chose Beginners. I felt the bitter bile of fear rising again. What if I went into Intermediate and got ranked below others whom I thought I was better than? Then I thought about how much fun it would be to compete with followers who are actually confident enough to play with their musicality? I went back and asked to be moved to the Intermediates.
Just before the competition I decided I was just going to have fun regardless of the outcome. There's an idea, perhaps I should try this after having a few drinks. I did two tequila shots and 3 Coronas before the heats. I was confident. I was downright cocky. I looked at the other leaders around me. I felt certain I was good enough to make it past this heat and into the finals. I danced. I connected with each partner and we danced our little arses off.
While waiting for the finalists to be called, I started feeling the tranquilising effects of alcohol. Uh-oh, methinks I overdid the booze. I dashed to the bar and secured a can of Red Bull. So now I was not only sloshed, I was on a caffeine hype as well. Geez, lucky they don't drug-test dancers. By the time my name was called to the finalist lineup, I was almost doubting my own merits as a dancer. I breathed a sigh of relief and I felt my chest swell because I deserve my place in the finals just as I suspected -er I mean just as I believed.
Then I was partnered with MJ from Melbourne. Of all the dancers, I ended up with the one I hadn't previously danced with, ever. Just great. I told her I liked blues, MJ then confesses that she doesn't like blues. Wonderful. We danced. We played. We smiled a lot, at each other. We just tried to enjoy each other and the music as best we can.
Later we came on stage to accept 2nd place. I was ranked higher than a guy I thought was better than me. As I polish the trophy I thought about what it meant to me: Recognition.
I don't know about you, but for myself, I accept I have an occasional need for validation. Validation is when someone whom we respect (including ourselves) expresses admiration or approval of our work. Recognition is when some body everyone else respects declares the merit of our work.
Validation is satisfying, recognition is valuable, having both together is very fulfilling.
At first I just thought it would be cool to have a dance partner. Someone with whom to help each other explore and grow as dancers.
I admit I still kinda choke whenever I find myself referring to myself as a dancer. Who me? I'm just a bloke who dances salsa for fun. That excuse doesn't wash anymore, it reeks of false modesty and blows back in my face how cowardly I can be. Calling myself a dancer would mean I have to continuously nurture dance as my art form, my passion. It looks like I have long ago passed the point where dancing was just a mere hobby.
Kathrine set our first goal which was to perform in a dance competition. This would mean we'll choreograph a competition piece and dance it. I've been wanting to try my hand choreography so I said yes before I realised she wanted to do it in the Swango dance style. Oh great, she just picked my two weakest dances, namely Argentine Tango and Swing. Oh and one more thing, we have about three weeks to be ready.
I felt raw fear for the first time in ages. Fear that what I could come up with in three weeks would not be to the standard that I imagine myself to be. Have you ever thought yourself to be good at something, say baking, and then want to have your opinion of how good you are to be validated somehow? You'd want your cake to be judged by a panel of experts and even rank you against your peers so you know how good you are relative to others.
Problem is if you over-estimate your own rank, you may think you are better than most, but what if you are wrong? Getting judged could confirm or dash your ego.
I chose to face my fear. I said yeah sure let's do it, sounds like fun. I had just seen Wicked (the Broadway musical), and one of the inspiring songs was called "Defying Gravity", so I thought, yeah what the heck let's try defying gravity.
We spent the first week picking out and trying moves to match the music. By the second week we had tested the moves in sequence to the music and fixed up the bits that didn't fit, didn't work, or didn't flow. Then we had a week to rehearse the choreography. On top of that we also got the music track edited so it's a digestible two and a half minutes instead of its 7 minute original version. And don't forget picking out the costume.
I didn't realise how many other creative minds have contributed to allow Kathrine and myself to express our art.
There were times in the process of creation that I would lapse into despair because I couldn't do a move or couldn't remember a sequence. I learned to offer my ideas and accept her ideas too. Last night, we performed it for competition.
I felt really good about our execution, we had one minor mistake that we were able to fudge because how do the judges know it wasn't meant to go down that way? We performed as good as I knew we were capable. Having the judges say so would be nice.
We were ranked 7 out of 10. According to the judges, we were only better than 3 other acts on the night. My personal assessment was that I liked only two other routines better than mine so in my mind we were ranked 3rd. Quite a gap between rank 3 and rank 7 don't you think? I was resigned to the fact that our expression of creativity may not be able to tick all the judgement criteria.
The way I understand it now, performing it has given me validation of how good I thought I was. However, we missed out on recognition, by not placing in the rank I thought ourselves to be. Yet I was okay with that, it just means that what we made did not fit the judges criteria. I didn't get outside confirmation but I got inner validation of my ability as a dancer. My ego was intact.
I was so pumped with adrenalin that even after getting home at 3:30AM, I couldn't fall asleep until about 5.
Tonight I made up my mind to compete in the Jack & Jill. That's when the competitors get paired up randomly and freestyle to a couple of random songs, the idea being that one is unlikely to end up with their regular dance partner and so it becomes a true test of lead and follow.
When I was asked to pick a category: Beginners, Intermediate, or Teachers. I chose Beginners. I felt the bitter bile of fear rising again. What if I went into Intermediate and got ranked below others whom I thought I was better than? Then I thought about how much fun it would be to compete with followers who are actually confident enough to play with their musicality? I went back and asked to be moved to the Intermediates.
Just before the competition I decided I was just going to have fun regardless of the outcome. There's an idea, perhaps I should try this after having a few drinks. I did two tequila shots and 3 Coronas before the heats. I was confident. I was downright cocky. I looked at the other leaders around me. I felt certain I was good enough to make it past this heat and into the finals. I danced. I connected with each partner and we danced our little arses off.
While waiting for the finalists to be called, I started feeling the tranquilising effects of alcohol. Uh-oh, methinks I overdid the booze. I dashed to the bar and secured a can of Red Bull. So now I was not only sloshed, I was on a caffeine hype as well. Geez, lucky they don't drug-test dancers. By the time my name was called to the finalist lineup, I was almost doubting my own merits as a dancer. I breathed a sigh of relief and I felt my chest swell because I deserve my place in the finals just as I suspected -er I mean just as I believed.
Then I was partnered with MJ from Melbourne. Of all the dancers, I ended up with the one I hadn't previously danced with, ever. Just great. I told her I liked blues, MJ then confesses that she doesn't like blues. Wonderful. We danced. We played. We smiled a lot, at each other. We just tried to enjoy each other and the music as best we can.
Later we came on stage to accept 2nd place. I was ranked higher than a guy I thought was better than me. As I polish the trophy I thought about what it meant to me: Recognition.
I don't know about you, but for myself, I accept I have an occasional need for validation. Validation is when someone whom we respect (including ourselves) expresses admiration or approval of our work. Recognition is when some body everyone else respects declares the merit of our work.
Validation is satisfying, recognition is valuable, having both together is very fulfilling.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Launching into 2010
So far this year has been busy, very busy. I got home at 8AM on January 1st after partying at a bar with a couple of friends. Man, the city of Sydney at 4AM after the big New Year's Eve extravaganza is one ugly city. The detritus of 1.5 million party-goers including the staggering said party-goers, and the concerted efforts of the City of Sydney and the police to discourage, nay, even prevent people from hanging around the city makes me wonder why one should bother. There are lots of buses to leave the city, but NONE to get in. I had to cab it into the city, and when I got there, the cops were cordoning off Circular Quay and The Rocks. They wouldn't let me walk past their barricade telling me there are no more bars open down there, a blatant lie because I told them my friends were waiting for me in a bar, and I just want to join them. In the end, one of the cops took pity and let me through. Same story when I got to the bar, the bouncers insisted they were already full, even as dozens of patrons were leaving. One of the bouncers took pity and let me in. Pity seems to work for me, should I take umbrage?
The following week I spent working every day with my new dance partner Kathrine. I discovered Kathrine, or should I say Kathrine discovered me, the week before after one social dance at the studio just before her class. Our styles seemed to mesh very well and we simultaneously thought we'd be well matched as partners. We had a chat and the next thing I knew, we would be competing at a dance event in two weeks.
I haven't really competed in dance, primarily because I didn't want to subject myself to the judgement of my peers as to how good I really am with respect to other dancers. This time I just agreed to compete because I feel I need that challenge and I would like to show everyone what I personally believe in terms of creativity in dance.
Kathrine was unconvinced about my idea for her costume which is something I call tango pants which feature a slit from below the knee to allow the leg and the calves to be exposed during certain dance moves. We decided we were going to buy a cheap pair of pants and take the scissors to it just to prove it was a viable option.
It fell to me to do the shopping. So here I am going into ladies clothing shops and checking out racks and racks of pants. My most annoying thought through the whole experience was that I was such a girl! How many real men do you know would be willing to walk into a ladies fashion outlet and inspect pants to see how the fabric hangs and if it would be suitable for modification? Last year I read Twilight and that had a side effect of growing ovaries. I'm still feeling above average estrogen levels especially when I'm in a ladies shop.
Also last week, I got a call from Iain who owns Memories Catering asking me if I was available to work on a function that Sunday. No problem, I said yes even though my birthday party was the Saturday before. It was a buffet lunch for 60 guests. Finally I get to meet Iain. He was a laid back fellow and I love working with him. I got to roast the beef, skin and portion the poached salmon, build a tower of cooked prawns,
make the artichoke, asparagus, and avocado salad (I just realised all the ingredients start with 'a'). I'd love to get more gigs with Iain.
I mentioned my birthday party, I had done a silly thing and invited 130 guests via facebook. No way we could fit 30 people in our tiny apartment, much less 130! I was betting against my own popularity. I figured people who truly liked me would make the effort, 35 of them did, but in staggered arrivals so we still managed to fit in. Whew.
That's it though, I am forty-five years old and I am terrified to think I am this old. However I also am grateful I'm still this young to embark on this great adventure.
For 2010 I am creating for myself the very likely possibility of working as a chef in a restaurant, getting more acting jobs, more travelling, growing as a dancer and writer, and being with a special someone to share it all with.
The following week I spent working every day with my new dance partner Kathrine. I discovered Kathrine, or should I say Kathrine discovered me, the week before after one social dance at the studio just before her class. Our styles seemed to mesh very well and we simultaneously thought we'd be well matched as partners. We had a chat and the next thing I knew, we would be competing at a dance event in two weeks.
I haven't really competed in dance, primarily because I didn't want to subject myself to the judgement of my peers as to how good I really am with respect to other dancers. This time I just agreed to compete because I feel I need that challenge and I would like to show everyone what I personally believe in terms of creativity in dance.
Kathrine was unconvinced about my idea for her costume which is something I call tango pants which feature a slit from below the knee to allow the leg and the calves to be exposed during certain dance moves. We decided we were going to buy a cheap pair of pants and take the scissors to it just to prove it was a viable option.
It fell to me to do the shopping. So here I am going into ladies clothing shops and checking out racks and racks of pants. My most annoying thought through the whole experience was that I was such a girl! How many real men do you know would be willing to walk into a ladies fashion outlet and inspect pants to see how the fabric hangs and if it would be suitable for modification? Last year I read Twilight and that had a side effect of growing ovaries. I'm still feeling above average estrogen levels especially when I'm in a ladies shop.
Also last week, I got a call from Iain who owns Memories Catering asking me if I was available to work on a function that Sunday. No problem, I said yes even though my birthday party was the Saturday before. It was a buffet lunch for 60 guests. Finally I get to meet Iain. He was a laid back fellow and I love working with him. I got to roast the beef, skin and portion the poached salmon, build a tower of cooked prawns,
make the artichoke, asparagus, and avocado salad (I just realised all the ingredients start with 'a'). I'd love to get more gigs with Iain.
I mentioned my birthday party, I had done a silly thing and invited 130 guests via facebook. No way we could fit 30 people in our tiny apartment, much less 130! I was betting against my own popularity. I figured people who truly liked me would make the effort, 35 of them did, but in staggered arrivals so we still managed to fit in. Whew.
That's it though, I am forty-five years old and I am terrified to think I am this old. However I also am grateful I'm still this young to embark on this great adventure.
For 2010 I am creating for myself the very likely possibility of working as a chef in a restaurant, getting more acting jobs, more travelling, growing as a dancer and writer, and being with a special someone to share it all with.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Sydney Harbour New Year
Finally, after much drama I have got broadband in my new apartment. Hopefully that translates to more blog entries ;-)
Jules from Fleetwing 2 got me a chef gig working on New Year's Eve. So the bad news is, I'm working instead of partying. However, the good news is I'll be right in the middle of the fireworks action.
There are two caterers who service the Fleetwing 2, this is the other one. On the one hand I feel a slight tinge of guilt working for Chris's competition, but on the other hand, I can't afford to turn down chef jobs as long as they don't conflict with any other jobs.
The amazing thing about this job was that the caterer, Iain hired me based solely on Jules' recommendation. He sent his head waitstaff Sam to look after me on this job (Chris sends me Ruth on his functions).
The food was already on the boat by the time I arrived. So I looked at the menu and did an inventory of what I have. Oh dear, Iain actually expects me to make and cook some of the dishes. By comparison, Chris usually has most things pre-cooked and all I had to do was reheat and serve. But hey, I'm a chef, I can do this.
Sam gave me advise on which things to work on first, she said she does the salads first. That was my mistake of the evening, because I was a little late in getting started with the moroccan lamb into the oven we had guests waiting for their starters a little longer than they should have.
To make things worse, Sam started interfering by re-arranging how I had the oven shelves organised. She was insisting that the hottest part of the oven was the top shelf and she wanted to switch it into grill mode instead of bake. Normally she would be right, but I have already worked on this oven and I know that it has the unique quirk where its hottest part is the bottom shelf. I just said yes, and then put it back the way it was after she left the galley. After all, I was the chef!
It all worked out in the end. Yet at the time I am thinking I had blown it because this was sure to get back to Iain. Sometime during the cruise, Trevor, the barman whispered to me that I should be careful about Sam, it seems she has a reputation of being a know-it-all and tries to tell staff how to do their jobs. Hospitality is such a fun industry, everyone's gets a reputation and that gets repeated to others. I wonder what my rep is? Have I worked enough to have earned one?
By 11:45PM all the guests have been fed, the staff are just serving drinks, and I have already put away the buffet and finished washing up and cleaning the galley. I got on to the bow of the boat with my camera and waited for the countdown.
It was 1:30 AM by the time we had disembarked the guests and unloaded the boat's rubbish. I then made my way to the city to meet up with a couple of friends and celebrate the new year.
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