"....That's the last check, thank fuck for that. Clean down. If I look up, I know there won't be anyone to make eye contact with but I know they're looking at me. It was just embarrassing. From the first check I was fucked. Even the sous chefs were helping get me out of the shit. My worst day in a kitchen. Dragged the whole service down. Fucking hell.
Another hangover this morning. That's not helping. That's why the cream boiled over onto the solid top. The whole place looked at me and I could see them pissing themselves. Talk of the friggin' town. The fucking alarm went on for ages. that's why I was in the shit, I just fell apart. Late for service with the mash. We chuck loads away, don't know why we do so much.......it's a joke.
I don't know how they do it, I think it's their age, they're just younger and better. Quicker. What am I doing here? I saw her shaking her head with that look when the chef asked her if I could do it, if I was getting it. I didn't hear the question but I just know. Spidey sense. That was definitely a nail banged home. She's back there on the prep, looking. Watching. Spying. It's full every day. Every fucking day, lunch and dinner. I should have done a couple of days first. It's a nightmare.
I'm not leaving my box. Can't leave it cos all my knives are in it, Can't take it out now cos they'll definitely see me but I don't want to come back tonight, I'll just fall apart again. It's not like I can leave though there's loads of prep to do. Fuck it, it's not like I'll be here tomorrow. So, that's it I suppose, I'm going. Well that's a weight off. If I wasn't living-in, I'd fuck off now. But he'll send someone over to knock on the door to see where I am. I'm not just hiding in my room. A few hours won't make any difference.......half a shift......
I'll leave it at the end of the pass, get changed, pick it up and just go. Won't look at anyone. Straight out the door. If they see me it doesn't matter I'll just say I'm cleaning it all tomorrow, it’s my day off. I brought fucking loads of stuff with me. All sorts of shit which I'm gonna have to leave. Just get away quickly. Don't care if they're in the shit, they'll manage, they have to. It’s just not worth it, I don't fit in anyway. They're all kids. There's the odd one I get on with but going on the piss every night's not my scene.
Anyway, the chefs a bit of a fucking knob. Dunno who he thinks he is. Walks around like he owns the place. Never speaks. Not to me anyway. Talks to them, the kids. Fuck it, I'm not bothered. If I don't want to shave I won't, what difference does that make, facial hair. He does fuck all. Hardly ever taught me anything. Stands at the pass shouting. It's not life and death, it's just food. They're so serious. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This isn't what I thought it would be like. My fault I suppose. Didn't really see what was going on. I'm not doing it. They won't remember me in a couple of days. Just another runner……”