American Chopper
4 hours of sleep, a friendly reminder of what American drinks can do to a person's head, and a pricey early morning trip on the tram - all things i could have lived without this morning.
Today was my first day at Mrs Bunn's Cob Emporium (She's married, i guess), a world class sandwich and strange salad shop that caters to the Forest and for some ungodly reason is about an hour from our flat. Why I even thought about taking the job is beyond me, but having wasted my morning getting there, I wasn't leaving without a job, 30 pounds, or a good reason.
My job? Not worth talking about until the setup explains Mr Boss' reaction to my arrival this morning.... So i show up after a hellish ride/walk, feeling a mild headache and in otherwise normal (so, critical, sarcastic, lazy) spirits, to which MB replies (in a craaazy thick accent) "Oh. there's been a misunderstanding....I saw on your sheet that you'd only be here for a few months... and I... uh, should have called you?"
Yes. yes you should have.
Being the friendly, cantankerous Brit that he was, he offered to 'let me work for the day, considering i made the effort to show up and all...'
Thanks, Mr B.
For the next 4 hours, we stood in relative silence, as I became the chef I've always wanted to be. Nearly slicing of my fingers, I assembled salad after confusingly concocted salad, putting myself to the culinary test.
Sadly, despite the mindless robotronic activity that slicing celery, peppers, etc is, it was a job. I felt productive. I was making things again. Unfortunately, my American franchise teachings were not enough for a respectable Cob Shoppery such as the Emporium. At one point during my decimation of celery, MB turned to me and said "Oh....so it looks like we're having an American salad today.... big chunks.....Here, we like our celery smaller.... although the way things are going.....(grumbling, trailing off, speaking of fat kids....)"
I was devastated.....American Style Salad? Whatever man. As long as I gets paid.
We arrived at the conclusion that I could do (pardon my French) Bitch work around the place, not really interacting with customers, making salads and bread and the like while people ran around up front. Every Monday, maybe some Fridays and Wednesdays or something in between..... fair enough. money is, again, money.
Class was rich.... I skipped merrily to the Uni in the hopes of reading Jane Austen (HA), but instead took a nap in the library, carefully waking myself up every 20 minutes in case i was snoring.
TV Cultures provided more fodder for the contention that I should drop teaching and pick up some BS Media degree or film studies equivalent and teach at a Uni in the UK..... Best quote of the day?
"If you don't know who Groundskeeper Willy is, you need to drop this module (class)"
Tonight, Eeds and Katie come back from Dublin, and the gang is headed to Oceana for what is becoming a Monday night ritual. 3 pounds for world-class clubbing? Yes please.
posted by Kevin @ 8:03 PM
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