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!
Friday, March 19, 2010
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.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Life is Good
I said that to Julie, the cruise director, last night aboard the Fleetwing II as we shared a cigarette break. This was my second time on the boat as the chef. I'm working as a casual chef for Buffets Galore and I've done four functions with them in the past month. It is after all, the busy season for hospitality in Sydney. It's summer, and company Christmas parties abound. Catering companies are falling over themselves trying to keep up with demand.
Over the past few weeks I have been experiencing depression. I finally moved in with my sister to our new place in Meadowbank. Leaving my old place in Carlingford was more emotionally taxing than I imagined. 11 years and 3 months is a long time to live in the one place, the roots run very deep into my psyche. Sheer inertia prevented me from moving out long after I should have, like after the divorce. Now that I have finally moved, it was not on my terms, and the feeling of powerless-ness (yes I just made up a word) is something I don't care to have to deal with again.
Last Tuesday, in an attempt to shake off my depression I decided to face up to all the things that I have been putting off, like doing my taxes. Within hours after setting an appointment with my tax agent, I got a message from Geoff Hopkins asking if I was interested in doing a short IT project for him writing a few query reports. I could do with the cash so I set that ball in motion. Not long after that I got a call from my agent about an audition for a commercial on Friday.
Friday? Holy crap, according to my diary I have a catering gig on the Fleetwing II! But wait, according to my Google Calendar (TM) it is on Saturday, not Friday. Which is it? So I called my chef Chris, and he told me that he actually wants me to work on the boat both days. It turns out the Friday is an evening cruise so in the end I was able to do the audition.
The commercial is all hush-hush, with confidentiality agreements so I can't say what it's about or which product. But it is my first audition. Ever. After the audition, I thought to myself, that was actually easy. It can't be that easy. Why can't somethings in life be easy? Where does it say that everything has to be hard? Anyway, I don't know yet if I got the part, but I'm proud of my performance. Whatever happens, I don't think I'd ever be nervous about an audition again. I do my thing as best as I can and and it's up to the gods if I get it or not.
So Friday night, during a lull in the service, I'm on the bow of the boat enjoying the harbour breeze with a still mostly full moon. Life is good.
Over the past few weeks I have been experiencing depression. I finally moved in with my sister to our new place in Meadowbank. Leaving my old place in Carlingford was more emotionally taxing than I imagined. 11 years and 3 months is a long time to live in the one place, the roots run very deep into my psyche. Sheer inertia prevented me from moving out long after I should have, like after the divorce. Now that I have finally moved, it was not on my terms, and the feeling of powerless-ness (yes I just made up a word) is something I don't care to have to deal with again.
Last Tuesday, in an attempt to shake off my depression I decided to face up to all the things that I have been putting off, like doing my taxes. Within hours after setting an appointment with my tax agent, I got a message from Geoff Hopkins asking if I was interested in doing a short IT project for him writing a few query reports. I could do with the cash so I set that ball in motion. Not long after that I got a call from my agent about an audition for a commercial on Friday.
Friday? Holy crap, according to my diary I have a catering gig on the Fleetwing II! But wait, according to my Google Calendar (TM) it is on Saturday, not Friday. Which is it? So I called my chef Chris, and he told me that he actually wants me to work on the boat both days. It turns out the Friday is an evening cruise so in the end I was able to do the audition.
The commercial is all hush-hush, with confidentiality agreements so I can't say what it's about or which product. But it is my first audition. Ever. After the audition, I thought to myself, that was actually easy. It can't be that easy. Why can't somethings in life be easy? Where does it say that everything has to be hard? Anyway, I don't know yet if I got the part, but I'm proud of my performance. Whatever happens, I don't think I'd ever be nervous about an audition again. I do my thing as best as I can and and it's up to the gods if I get it or not.
So Friday night, during a lull in the service, I'm on the bow of the boat enjoying the harbour breeze with a still mostly full moon. Life is good.
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