Once upon a time...

FOREWORD

In the beginning… Chef made Soup, and Salads and a selection of sandwiches which together… created the daily hotel staff meal menu.

Years went by, and the chef remained unchallenged and unmoved. Many came and went. Tried and failed, and the system remained unconquered. That was until the arrival of a silver haired elder, in a white trouser suit armed with a tongue, sharper than any blade the chef had encountered.

It wasn’t long before the elder began to challenge the chef, first with the refusal of sandwiches, and soup, and salad. Then with requests for fish, roast dinners, curry. The chef tried hard to fight against it but … his enemy was too strong, unlike any he had ever encountered before, or would ever encounter again.

And so the battle became a long and bitter war. Anarchy erupted as the elder instilled her beliefs on others who followed her fearless reign. The chef became weaker, until he was powerless to stop it and from then on, the hotel staff meal policy, was never to be the same again.



THE STORY

So that’s the crack basically. For the last decade Aunty Chris has dominated the kitchen with her demands over staff meals and, has the majority of the time got her own way.

Don’t get me wrong there has been once or twice when chef has put his foot down and it’s resulted in hunger strikes etc but pretty much, most of the time, what Aunty Chris says, is what goes.

If I’m honest I’ve always admired her for it. I only wish I had her strength and perseverance on the matter. Take last week for example. It was around 10:30am and I went down to the kitchen. I can’t remember why, and as it usually does, the topic of staff meals for the day soon came into conversation

“Emma!” Chef said rather excitedly “Nice jacket potato today for lunch?”
“Are they fresh?” I asked
“Yes Emma, they’re fresh”
“Definitely?”
“Definitely!”
“Well why can’t I smell them?”
“Because I’ve only just put them in”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m sure”
“Because I’ll know if it’s been done in the microwave”
“Emma… I guarantee you 100% the jacket potatoes will be fresh, out of the oven this lunch time”
“Will they be crispy on the outside?”
“Yes”
“And fluffy in the middle?”
“Yes”
“Ok then. That’s fine. I’ll be down at 12 o clock”
“No problem”

And so I left the kitchen feeling confident that at 12:00pm I would be presented with a nice, fresh oven baked potato, crispy on the outside and fluffy in the middle, just the way they should be. I relayed the information to Aunty Chris and we agreed to meet in the kitchen at 12:00pm to discuss jacket potato toppings before making our way to the restaurant where we would discuss the hotel goings on. What we did not anticipate however was Aunty Chris getting collared by one of our long term residents who kept her yapping in the bar for 40 minutes, leaving me to lunch alone with my… I’m just gonna say it… half arsed excuse for a jacket potato that was anything but crispy on the outside or fluffy in the middle.

So after lunch I went back to my desk and soon enough after being released by her captive, Aunty Chris walked by.

“Have you had your Jacket Potato yet?” I asked “Because mine wasn’t very nice”

“Ooooh” she replied as she shook her head vigorously “I’ve told him I don’t want a jacket potato. I‘m having some of that nice Thai Red curry he’s just made instead”

I just paused for a second at Aunty Chris’s innocent revelation, before I replied with an element of shock and disgust to my voice

“Are you serious?”
“Yes”
“Well he never offered me any curry”
“Well did you ask him?”
“Well I didn’t know it was an option”
“Well it wasn’t an option until I said I’m not having a jacket potato”
“So just because you refused to have a jacket potato Chefs now making you a Thai Red Curry?”
“Yes”
“RIGHT!”

And so I sprang from my chair like a true drama queen and marched down to the Kitchen where, sure enough, Chef was plating up his finest homemade Thai Red Curry straight from the wok, and not just for Aunty Chris. Oh no! Simon had some, Diane had some, even the waitress who does one twenty minute shift a month had some. What a kick in the face.

“Erm… excuse me” I said “Do you wanna tell me why you’re giving a la carte meals out to random staff members whilst I’m wasting away on your half arsed attempt at a Jacket Potato?”

“Em… I’ve only just…”
“Don’t bother” I snapped “I’m really upset with you”
“Em.. I’m sorry”
“I don’t wanna hear your apologies Phil! Go and offload your emotional baggage somewhere else! That’s it!”

And so I stormed out of the Kitchen, and I’m gonna be honest, it took me a while to get over the incident. Which I did, until a few days later when I had what can only be described as a huge douse of salt rubbed into my already tender wound.

I was on the late shift at the hotel and at 6:30pm, went down to the kitchen to discuss my dinner options with chef.

“Nice turkey salad” he said, with same excited tone he had used over the jacket potato
“I don’t like the salads here” I replied with the strength of Aunty Chris instilled within me
“Well what do you want then?”
“What can I have?”
“What do you want?”

Pause for thought

“Can I have a turkey & stuffing sandwich with chips and gravy?”
“Course you can. Not a problem”
“Thank you”

And so, chef went about preparing my dinner, when all of a sudden a thought popped into my head

“Can I have my turkey & stuffing sandwich hot please?”

Chef just glared at me

“You what?”
“Can I have my sandwich hot?”
“For f**k sake Emma”
“What?”
“A f**king hot turkey and stuffing sandwich? Are you for real?”
“I don’t see what the problem is?”
“F**king hell Em, do you know what? In fact… don’t worry, it’s fine. One hot turkey and stuffing sandwich coming up”

So I looked on silently as chef banged about the kitchen, and then entered Sabrina the waitress. My little favourite who’s so sweet I could quite easily have eaten her instead.

She walked around to the preparation area, oblivious to the icy tension which filled the room and without a second thought, innocently helped herself to one, single blackcurrant from a bowl, which unknown to her, would have devastating results

“NOOOO!!!!” Chef screamed “I need those blackcurrants! What are you doing?”

“What’s the problem?” she asked, completely un-phased by the outburst
“The problem is I need those blackcurrants”
“It’s one blackcurrant Phil.”
“That’s not the point Sabrina”

“Oh for god sake!” I chimed in “Do you what Phil? If you don’t mind me saying… You’ve become ever so high maintenance lately”

There was around 3 seconds of silence as Chef took in what I had said, like the calm before the storm, and then all of a sudden…

“YOU F**KING WHAT? ARE YOU F**KING KIDDING ME? YOU COME DOWN HERE ASKING FOR F**KING HOT TURKEY AND STUFFING SANDWICHES AND I’M THE ONE WHO’S F**KING HIGH MAINTENANCE? UNF**KING BELIEVABLE! HAS EVERYONE JUST HEARD THAT? ME HIGH MAINTENANCE? UNF**KING BELIEVABLE”

Amidst his rant, chef remained oblivious to Sabrina and me who were literally on the floor creased up in laughter. Soon after, I got my sandwich and made a sharp exit from the kitchen, but believe it or not, that wasn’t the biggest drama of the evening.

It was about an hour later, the boss went home early leaving the hotel in the capable hands of Simon and 10 minutes after his departure, there was eerie sense of emptiness in the hotel reception area which normally, if the boss isn’t there, is the congregation point for staff members to stand and gossip about whatever is going on.

I looked in the back office, no Simon, looked in the restaurant, no Sabrina, and looked in the bar, no Helen. Very strange. And so I made my way down to the kitchen, I opened the doors, and to my horror, there they all were.

Simon, Sabrina, Helen & chef all tucking into fresh, homemade, straight from the wok Singapore Chow Mein.

“You have got to be F**KING KIDDING ME!”



AFTERWORD

And so concludes the story of the hotel staff meal system, the power of which is bestowed to one, and one only.

Many have been and gone, have tried and failed. All except one.

And so we salute you. The silver haired elder in the white trouser suit, may your legacy live on forever!