I have a new temporary gig. I am cooking 65 breakfasts and lunches - and preparing 112 snacks each day.
You know I am in heaven (not!)
I stepped into this gig at 10:15 Tuesday morning. (I arrived home from California at 1:00 am TUESDAY MORNING)
I have been going 100 mph since. It's not just the breakfast/lunch/snack that has me moving at warped spped - there also was the dinner for 140 Wednesday night. With just me. To prep - cook - serve - and wash. (okay - that's an exaggeration - I had two volunteers help me Wednesday to get ready for the dinner Wed. night.) But all those lunches and breakfast meals? ME.
Today was my "easy day" - I only had the breakfast/lunch/snack duties - no dinner prep. I was there by 8:00 am and out by 5:30 pm. (Although I did end up setting up cleaning schedules, cook orientation outlines, food ordering and usage guidelines after 3:00 pm when I "finish" my (temporary) job). That is a "short day".
Part of the job - is also portioning out the meals - labeling them, portioning out the silverware/plates, and delivering them to the six classrooms in the morning and 9 rooms in the afternoon. Oh! And I also pick up the items. All this - AWAY FROM THE KITCHEN (where hopefully you have other food cooking for the other meal).
In my three short days (which thankfully will end a week from today) I have squirreled away numerous stories. Here's today's.
At 12:10 I delivered lunch – but couldn’t fit the 6-1 gal. milk containers on the cart with the spaghetti sauce, noodles, corn, peaches, and serving utensils for all six classrooms - so I had to make two trips. This annoyed me. A LOT.
As I’m making the delivery, I am busy thinking about kitchen clean up after lunch – cutting 7 bags of oranges for the afternoon snacks into eight segments per orange – and what all I need to talk to the Children's Center Director about in our afternoon meeting.
Earlier - when I delivered breakfast, I note there are repairmen in the Social Hall - removing some floor tiles right in front of the restrooms. There is a pile of powdery substance where the removed tiles use to reside. I ask the workers if it's ok if I use the restroom. They say, "Yes". I enter and exit the restroom with no calamities befalling me.
Now - as I deliver lunch, I also have to go pee. I think I can put it off - but decide I better not.
I am going right past the same restroom, right off the kitchen. Now - I see the progress has moved to wet epoxy on the floor spread in whirls and swirls.
I see the fan running – it is to help the epoxy dry to its most tacky state.
I avoid the epoxy when I enter the restroom.
I use the restroom.
I am thinking about how I am going to be cooking someone else’s menu next week – who has never used this kitchen (and I am worried about what they are going to think up) and if my old body is going to collapse before the "real" cook shows up.
I walk out of the restroom – right into the epoxy!
It is VERY sticky.
At first, I think I’ll just walk enough in the filthy kitchen and there the epoxy will lose its sticky power.
As I’m standing back at the dishwasher, it becomes clear that the sticky is trying to stick me to the floor.
WHAT TO DO??
Oh! Peanut butter is what you use when you get gum in things! What a great idea.
Oh-oh – peanut free facility precludes use of peanut butter.
Cook’s clogs are “indestructible” (or so I hope) … so – I get some serving trays out of the cupboard. I put them on the floor. I take the clogs off my feet. I stand on the trays – so my feet don’t get yucky. I shove a pair of long handled tongs into the shoes so they won’t turn over in the dishwasher. I place the shoes and the tongs on a washing tray.
I run them through …
I forgot my shoes would be wet when they came out of the dishwasher .... so I use the serving trays like big skates to go down to the towel closet so I can dry out my shoes before putting them back on my feet.
I feel like an idiot. I pray that no one enters the kitchen.
I dry the shoes.
I look at the soles.
There is still gunk on them.
I am still standing on plastic serving trays in the dish-washing area.
I skate to the silverware area.
I grab a butter knife – I try scraping at the soles. I pray (some more) that no one comes into the kitchen.
I put my shoes back on.
They still make that squicking sticky noise when I walk. However, they don't stick QUITE so badly if I stand in one place for more than two minutes.
Hopefully the sticky power will leave before before I have to walk outside.
Otherwise – all the leaves of a North Carolina fall will be sticking to me as I leave.