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?
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