Big catering function. Lots of agency chefs, some good, some wankers. It's just the way it is. The good ones, they are just obvious because they Do The Fucking Job. Others are just idiots. But the idiots try, don't they? They scream and yell and forget that we are all here to get the job done. They go into meltdown when the pressure is on though. Pretty damned funny.
The heat is on. This is a world class event with... oh all right - it's those wankers from FIFA. My God, what a bunch of tossers. It's soccer, for fuck sake... you are just a committee deciding the rules of a game played by a bunch of blokes chasing a ball around a big green oblong... you are not Norse Gods. Such wankers.
But this chef, this chef.
I'm sweating because it's intense, this dessert, and we must get it out there and we're behind and oh fuck me it's all so tight and of all of The Big Events, this may be the Big Daddy of them all.
And this chef who is trying to stamp authority over everything, he walks over to me as I'm dressing the desserts that are about to go out and all red-faced and sinking in deep over his head, he stamps his authority by asking, "Have all these desserts been cross-dressed?"
I pause and don't even bother to laugh because this is too funny. I just think to myself, what the fuck are you into?
Do I look good in this silky Freudian slip?
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2 comments:
Hahaha.. you gotta love them though don't you (in retrospect, I mean). I still remember arguing with one at the last big function.
Did you ask him what color bra he was wearing?
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