I quit my job.
It’s all over.
I’ve blended my last milkshake, wiped my last table and made my last waffle.
Well for now at least.
I can’t say I’ll miss Treats.
My last shift was a hellish 10 hours long (3pm – 1am) without a single break.
We’d just started doing home delivery via Just Eat but Yasser had given Lucia the day off and Mohammed was sick so we had twice the workload with half the staff.
Talk about a sticky situation.
At one point I thought I was going to faint so I just sat on the toilet for ten minutes and had a micro nap.
The whole thing was a shambles really.
Since old Mohammed had gone home we had no chef to make hot food so I had to run next door to buy a chicken burger to send for delivery and when the waffle mix ran out I had to do likewise and sprint to neighbouring Delight’s (their poor use of apostrophe not mine).
As I walked home that night I felt absolutely knackered but also elated at the thought I’d never have to go back.
I made sure to say a final farewell to the cockroach that lives inside the microwave but I wasn’t able to tell Yasser to his face that I quit and rather took the coward’s way out by sending him a text the next day.
He’s since tried to offer me a better deal and has been ringing me but I’ve just ignored it.
He told me before I left that the owner has decided to go with Sprinkles for the new name so I suppose that’ll be my “legacy.”
In the end though, as bad as this job has been it’s taught me something about the value of hard work, the multicultural web of Manchester’s Muslim community and the art of making a perfect crepe.
But I deserve something better
As the French chef Jacques Torres once said,
-“Life is short. Eat dessert first.”