Being little ‘fragile’ people, fingers getting cut are not part of our job description. She looked at me with fear in her eyes and her face now being snow white in paleness. Then she fell of her chair. I wanted to laugh at first but then i realized she actually fainted. I have never seen anyone faint before, especially not with a bleeding finger. So now the truth was out and i had to declare the purpose of the extra carrots we had cut with closed eyes. The lecture was furious, understandably, and my friend was sent home while my punishment would be to work in the bar the evening of restaurant service.
They couldn’t have chosen a better reprimand for me. I knew nothing of ‘mixing’ drinks and even about J&B and Jameson. Not only have i never tasted it before in my life, i had no idea how to serve it. I would be alone in the bar on a busy night. Pure torture.
The evening in the bar started great. I only had to serve Appeltizer’s and Coke. Pretty easy. You just add ice and lemon. That i could do. Then it happened in full swing. Everyone started ordering ‘drinks’. The incompetence kicked in and i was totally flabbergasted. I never knew about tilting a glass to the side when pouring beer to prevent everything from frothing over. All the orders started to come in. Beer orders, whiskey orders, rum orders ...everything.
My only hope was my cell phone and a message that i could send to my mom saying: ‘pray hard..’ she did. Shortly after my message or helpless cry, my angel appeared. She wore a clean white chef outfit and had a plaster on her finger covered in a latex glove. My carrot cutting friend had returned and was there to help me out. She showed me all the ropes in ‘mixing’ and the next week it would be a breeze. We would even participate in a cocktail making class competition. I started to love Chef School, in a guilty pleasure sort of way...