Monday, 31 October 2011

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

I wonder if anyone reading this blog saw what was coming? I used to read a very good blog called Notes From The Intern (she's gone travelling now) and she kept mentioning how money was going missing from her company. I had a horrible feeling she was going to get blamed and then one day she wrote how the company had suspended her and called the police in to investigate and she was the main suspect! It was all ok in the end- her horrible boss got caught stealing the money and The Intern received three grand in compensation, hence the reason she is now too busy travelling the globe to blog.

My point is, sometimes an outsider can see all too clearly what is going to happen, as if they are reading a book and they can guess the ending. I wonder, did any of you readers guess what was going to happen with the Halloween costume?

'Everyone is really going to go for it.'
'I'll be more miserable if I'm the only one who isn't properly dressed up.'

When you were reading all of this, when you were reading about how I ran around Paris and spent thirty euros on a shit scarf, a lacy top and little hairclips with black flowers on them, could you guess what was going to happen?

Did you guess that I would get to work and NOBODY ELSE WAS DRESSED UP?????

Because I sure as fuck didn't see that one coming.

I got up early on Saturday and curled my hair, then I got to work fifteen minutes early so I'd have time to do my make-up. When I walked in I saw that the shift manager wasn't dressed up and the other English girl working (who is now training to be a shift manager by the way, which makes 50% of the staff shift managers- what is the point of having so many managers?!) was wearing a polka-dot shirt. I wondered if this was her 'costume', because she said she was going to dress up as a Dead Minnie Mouse...

I couldn't decide whether she would be offended if I asked her if she was wearing a costume or not.

"Is everyone wearing their costumes all day today?" I asked casually.

"Oh shit! I've forgotten my costume!" she said.

I asked her if I should put my costume or not and I showed her what I'd brought. She said that maybe I should just put the veil on and do my make-up, so off I popped into the toilets.

I couldn't get the veil to look like it had done the night before, when I'd been messing about with it in my room and managed to make it look half-decent. The shift manager told me it was time for the Briefing and to eat our lunch.

"It looks cute, but you can't have your hair like that, it must be up." she told me.

I thought they might say something like that, but I was hoping because I'd pinned some of it back they'd let it slide as it was 'part of a costume'. No such luck, but as I walked off the manager said to the other English girl: "She has gorgeous hair." If someone who hates me so much can say that about my hair, when she thinks I'm not listening, then I'm not being a Big Headed Twat but it must have looked nice. I'm going to start curling my hair more often because when my hair is straight I look like a raggedy pagan, or like I belong to an obscure sect of Christianity (you know, the ones that don't believe in taking antibiotics, or the ones who will only live on corners*).

Anyway, I bounced off to pin up my 'gorgeous hair' (I'm not letting go of that compliment, am I?) and to do my make-up. The make-up looked kind of shit, because I was in a rush and the lighting was weird, plus I felt a bit self-concious because nobody else was dressed up, so I didn't put as much on as I should have done...

The prediction I made in my last post was an accurate one- I ended up walking around the restaurant with a lacy vest top hanging off the back of my head, with 'scary make-up on', only my make-up wasn't even that scary.

When the chefs changed over after lunch, one of them asked me why I had 'dark stuff' on my face and then he translated it for the other one, so they had clearly been discussing why I had weird make-up on.

"C'est 'alloween!" I said, "It is not my normal make-up, it's for my costume."

But by that point, my veil was an absolute mess and my make-up had rubbed off a bit, so I just looked like a strange, strange idiot.

Some of the chefs in the kitchen really don't like me, because I don't speak French and because I always look miserable when I go in to get plates. Two of them are my mates now because they asked me why I was so rude and I said I wasn't, I was just nervous and worried and I hate my job and I started smiling at them more and now they love me. One of them is an little old man from India and whenever I go into the kitchen he goes "Hello darrrrlink! I am very happy to see you! Let me see your smile, darrrlink it is very very beautiful!' so then I always smile, and I go out of the kitchen feeling all nice and happy.

See! I can be a happy waitress, that is where the other staff are going wrong. Instead of swearing at me all day and tutting at me, they should be showering me with compliments. I might bring this up with the manager...

"So why are you such a shit waitress?"
"It's not me you see, I need to bathe in the golden glow of compliments. If you could let the other staff know, that would be great. Nothing too indulgent, you know, just simple things like 'Nice smile' 'Great legs' 'What pretty eyes you have'... That sort of thing will be fine."

Anyway, when the Indian man is working it really makes a difference, because I love going down to the kitchen and saying hello to him, but on Saturday it was this new guy from Australia who is really aggressive and rude. In a way it was quite good because I was able to snap back at him without feeling unjustified and it relieved some of my tension. He said things like "Oi! I just caught you putting a dirty plate there and not scraping it into the bin!" and I marched up to him and said "Look! There's no bin bag!" (Not the most inspiring or rebellious revolt in the history of the world, but it made me feel a little bit better.)

So, Aggressive Australian Chef went home at lunchtime and was replaced by a French guy who can't speak English and gets annoyed when I try and explain things to him in shitty French, and a chef who I think is Bangladeshi. They were both being a bit rude to me, but I wasn't really arsed, until I went downstairs and he started singing a song a song at me in Bangladeshi, singing my name as well so I knew he was singing about me. I wasn't sure why, but I had a feeling he was singing something a bit rude or insulting.

"What language is that?" I asked him.
"Do you know any songs in Hindi?"

He looked confused. Ha... When I was a teenager I was obsessed with Bollywood films and I used to listen to the songs on my Ipod. I always knew it would come in handy... I sang to him:

"Khabi khushi, khabi gham, khabi khushi, khabi gham..."
(Tears of sadness, tears of joy, tears of sadness, tears of joy.)

He didn't say anything, but he was kind of smiling and he looked a bit taken aback. The next time I went down into the kitchen he was singing the song I'd just sung and now he proper loves me. Yes. Now I have the Indian and the Bangladeshi chefs on my side, I can... erm... I'll think of a purpose to this plan later. The point is, I have acheived it. Bon.

When I finished work at 6.30pm, the girls who came in to cover my shift were dressed up in really good costumes, with fake blood and everything. I told them their costumes were good and then I left them to their little 'Halloween Party'. I had a party of my own to go to, but I will talk about that later because right now I am going to Georgie's and we're going to cook some pork.

*Seriously, this is a Real Thing, something to do with the direction the sewage runs in, I think. I can't remember the name of the religion but there are a few of them living in Stockport- they all live on corners and love God.


  1. 1). Bad: Being the only person in Fancy Dress - been there, done that, I was an IT engineer and got called out to visit a client (who didn't understand?) and then there was a staff party down at the pub - and I was the only one dressed up. Do you know how much of a pratt you feel being dressed up as Charlie Chaplin in a pub full of people who didn't even know that it was supposed to be fancy dress?

    2). Good: Getting the Indian and Bangladeshi chefs on your side - there has got to be some divine purpose to that that doesn't require living on street corners in Stockport (which has to be the colon of the North?)

  2. Oh dear. Being the only one in Fancy Dress is never good then, whether you are an IT egineer or a waitress... and Stockport is in fact the cosmopolitan capital of the North, it is very classy and cultural, honestly...

  3. Thanks for sticking up for Stockport. Is that where you're from? I'm from Liverpool but I lived in Stockport for a while before I moved to NZ. Anyway, well done for getting through the shift whilst looking like an insane person! :)Bossyi (Gwan's Mum again!)

  4. I;m from Manchester but I moved to Stockport when I was about 15, so I guess, technically, I should say I'm from Stockport... but I prefer to say I'm from Manchester!!

  5. I think it probably means where you were born when you say "I'm from..." I only lived in Liverpool till I went to teachers' college in Salford when I was 18, but I'm still from Liverpool! I've lived in NZ for nearly 40 years, though! Bossyi

  6. Wow forty years?? That is a verrrrry loooong time! Do you miss Liverpool? I do and I only live a couple of hours away really!

  7. What do you mean, you miss Liverpool? Did you live there, too?

    No, I don't miss it. Because I am SO OLD, my time there has become a little fraction of my lifetime. I have all the important childhood and teenage memories, though, so I am very fond of it. The kiwis think I sound scouser when I talk, but when I'm in Liverpool they can't quite place me and think I'm posh - and I can hardly understand them, ha ha!!! Bossy.

  8. Yes, I went to uni for three years in Liverpool and my dad and his family are from there and they still live there. Ah I can imagine how your accent would sound 'posh', the scouse accent is a very unique one!