[Quick tips in slow motion.]
No guide for employees in Slovenian catering industry.
Hundred and fifty centimeters tall.
Hundred and fifty kilograms wide.
Can this really be a human being?
Her health must be bellow average, but that doesn't bother her while she handles raw meat and veggies. Her name be Moravka, she came here from Bosnia and she has blood ties with the devil, for she is fear. I was an apprentice back then for a company with big name. We, 'all the workers, should be thankful.' There were only two types of people in the kitchen - the others and the one I personally call 'myself'. This seemed to be a fact to me, but then the fate brought her into my life. She was something else. Hundred and fifty written all over her, across the uneasy soul.
This kitchen is one with no empathy. Person who told me this in advance was none.
I will manage. Somehow. - I thought before the truth behind her expressions of maternal sense came out.
One day, soon after changing the position in the company from a dish-washing man to a warehouse manager, I went on with my business. At that time I was already aware - and afraid - of the midget-like chef's evil ways, manipulating all - from highest to lowest ranking staff. But she is only a slow-walker and a chef! was false, long forgotten statement of mine. Never aware of its origin, I must confess. Well, I was doing the things they paid me for, like any other day. I was hoping then, to go by unnoticed. I walked silently down a doorway. It was between doors of the preparation room, where she was skinning some mule or something, and the freezer room where was frosty meat. Ice cream was elsewhere. With the corner of my eyes I spotted the doors being open. It should have been closed!, my cry never saw the light of day. Closed at all times. No matter what. I got confused about it like most of other things in life. So I went on, hoping that the midget wouldn't spot me. If I close the door - I thought - she'd go mental on my ass and tell on me: "Boss-man, the bastard went closing them freezer door in my face, do-n't-let-me-kill," and if I don't, she'd cry: "The new guy sees nothing! How the fuck could I close the freezer-room, while I was on the raw meat, I-fuck-your-dad?"
I had to go back the same way to do some other shit of work. She was still there doing what she was paid for.
But this time, I heard a loud BANG! behind me. She slammed that door shut.
I didn't have the guts to turn and take a look at her murderous gaze.
And she did (on numeral occasions) told our 'boss', that the new guy is mental. Successfully. And the bosstard laughed easily in my face: "Moravka told me that you're mental." which drove me kinda mad. But I embraced it, danced with it and whatnot.
It's all about multitasking, really. I guess I should re-title it. Or not, after all Moravka didn't manage multitasking that time. And if you spot a circular, roundabout person in a kitchen, be sure to kill it, or you will be served with real-life drama.
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