“Work is the meat of life, pleasure the dessert” – B.C. Forbes
But what happens when dessert is your work?
Even though my job often leaves me feeling like a sunken soufflé it still has its perks, ie. FREE CAKE!
Since I’m allowed this one pleasure I usually find myself planning what cake I’m going to sample on my break before I’ve even arrived for my shift.
To date my favourite is still the homemade red velvet but the fruit cake with vanilla icing comes in at a close second.
So yeah it’s not all that bad.
Since my first installment there’s been a bit of a change up to our staff at Treats.
We’re now a fully multicultural team since we’ve been joined by Senna who’s from Eritrea and a Slovakian girl called Lucia.
Sadly Luis has quit for reasons unknown.
Lucia thinks he had an argument with Yasser but he’s since been in to visit and even though I can’t understand Arabic, the laughter and manly handshakes would suggest no lingering animosity.
I imagine he just got fed up of working for a pittance.
Coincidentally Lucia, a stunning blonde of supermodel proportions, also has a degree in Business and is just trying to improve her English for a year.
I wonder how long it will be before young Mohammed tries to propose to her.
There was a French girl called Mailys who worked with us for a couple of weeks but she left, not only because the pay is a bit shit but also because Mohammed kept trying to arrange a date with her and asked her when she’d like to get married.
Senna has an education from her home country and is frustrated by the fact that she has had to start from the bottom and re-do college since moving to the UK – somewhere she will stay for the foreseeable future since she recently married a guy from here. (at least she doesn’t have to worry about Mohammed’s advances.)
Other interesting developments are that I’ve actually been given the responsibility of renaming the business!
Since I’m the only native English speaker who works at Treats, Yasser decided to consult me on my ideas for new names.
So far I’ve suggested Temptations, Sugar Stop, Sweet Shack and Sprinkles.
Yasser liked Temptations although questioned whether it had any double entendre, i.e could infer desire for a woman.
I said “not really” but he didn’t seem convinced.
I’ve also had the pleasant task of writing the names of the ice creams in pretty fonts on wipe clean labels which was a nice change from unclogging the sink and picking stray hairs out of the custard.
The other day I actually tried to tell Yasser that I wanted to leave and find a better paid job but he practically begged me to stay, telling me that I was “very precious” to him and that “he’d kill me” if I left.
He was joking of course…I hope.
Anyway, since I seem to be stuck in this job for the foreseeable future I’ve devised a little game to make each six or nine hour shift more bearable.
From now on I’ll award myself points for certain things and see how high I can score – maybe I’ll even let Senna and Lucia in on the game….
Points are awarded as follows:
Kill a cockroach 50pts
Kill a fly 100pts (notably more difficult)
Receive a customer complaint 30pts (though not on purpose)
Yasser says “tables, please” 20pts
A fly dies in the Insectaflash 40pts (a horrible sizzling sound)
Find a hair in the ice cream 200pts
Find a hair in the custard 80pts
Make a perfect crêpe 60pts
The list could go on.
Other recent events of interest are that a guy came in and randomly stole one of the fake roses from a display in the front window.
Mohammed chased him down the road where he quickly got into a getaway car with his girlfriend and bolted the door – all Mohammed could do was give him the finger and a few choice expletives.
I was confused since I mistook him for one of the people who randomly sell flowers up and down the curry mile like the Chinese woman who always comes in to harass the customers and offer them three roses for a fiver.
They’ve also installed security cameras so the owner can watch our every move from Saudi Arabia and report our wrongdoings to Yasser like some sort of Middle Eastern Big Brother.
Other than that there’s not much to report.
Each time I go to work I quickly fall into the rhythm of making milkshakes, cleaning the dishes, wiping the tables and repeating the process again and again in almost contented resignation.
The work could definitely be worse and I enjoy the simple things like seeing a child smile as they pick out an ice cream flavour or watching the cookie dough rise and expand in the microwave.
For now this job is the meat of my life, the cake that I eat there, the dessert.