All i wanted to do that night was to cut those red capsicums. It was so methodical. Three cuts along the seam of the capsicum, then one across the face. Cut cut cut cut in the bucket. Aaron gave me one of his sharp knives to cut them too. I was facing the edge of the kitchen, with my back facing the customers, my knife in hand, cut cut cut cut in the bucket. The speakers were facing my way too. The kitchen i work in is an open kitchen, so that means when we have music playing, it has to be really soft, otherwise the customers can hear it, and thats no good. i can’t remember what was playing, all i remember is thinking that it was good that i could hear the music. Cut cut cut cut in the bucket.
I sped way to quickly to work, like maybe 15ks over the limit. That was no good. I ate too much today, spent too much in the city. That was no good. Walking from my car to the kitchen, my mind thought the same five words over and over again; ‘I don’t want to work’. And that was no good. I swear there was a tape player up there with the same message repeating on both sides.
Aaron asked me to cut these red capsicums, and that was good. i felt release, like when you’re able to escape something you didn’t know you were able to escape. Like your old high school teacher offering you an extension on a stressful assignment. i felt happy to grab that ten litre bucket from the back of the store room this time. The tape player seemed to be dislodged now. Cut cut cut cut in the bucket.
The night rolled on eventually without the red capsicums. It rolled on with frustrating customers, tofu oil, chocolate desserts and Indians. Lots and lots of Indians. We had a function on that night, some kind of Indian party. They were cool. Shaking their heads at me, when really they meant yes. ‘Do you want saffron rice?’ No. wait, yes? yes. Okay, Saffron it is. We have three rice choices at my work, brown, jasmine and saffron. When i asked one of the girls this question, she looked at me as if to say ‘Dude, do i look like I’m Indian to you? Of course i want saffron. Load it up punk.’ I thought this was amusing, i remember having a little chuckle when retrieving her metal tray.
Don’t you think its amazing how one little amusing thing can completely change what is recorded on the tape in your head? This is the ultimate reason why i believe God has a sense of humor. We’d all be killing ourselves if he didn’t.
We finished serving the food at around 10:25 that night. I unloaded the buffet trays, cleaned out the rice-cookers, swept the floor and cleaned the glass. Once these were done, i checked everything else had been done, all the little annoying things, like making sure the fans were turned off and all the matts were dragged to their right places. Then i left.
I got into my car, i didn’t speed. I got home, i didn’t overeat. I got up the next morning and went to work.
And that was good.