10 More Hours

So, I started my career at an NGO, having graduated from college. That pricey degree from USA and

my slightly accented English landed me that first job, though I remember saying “can I call you later

cuz I’m at the movies” to my “boss to be”! I thought that was the job I aspired to do, at least for the

society. But it all started fading when my phone gave me those screen time alerts because of Netflix

at work place.

Just like any other overly ambitious girl in her early 20’s, I quit that and moved to the world of

Freight Forwarding. Sounded serious and busy to me till I ended up beside an almost retired

gentleman, juggling the many positions at that fixed low salary and a thick glass screen with the logo

of “Windows 95” on it! I wasn’t even done complaining about the thick screen when I was assigned

the task of ordering a new coffee machine for the office.

When I finally realized how much time I was wasting, I paid a heavy sum to an esteemed college in

France for my Master’s. Even before you imagined me on that plane with puffy eyes from all the

crying and fresh start drama, came COVID-19! Well for most people it was devastating. Loss of jobs,work from home, increased screen time, kids fighting over access to gadgets, enlarged bills and no

maids. But for me it came as an opportunity to convince my parents to give into my one last fantasy

before pushing me for another pricey degree. I was finally allowed to step into the world of Culinary

arts.

I started off at a Cloud Kitchen with a very young, talented chef and met this man who I nagged

every time for a bigger opportunity. He soon tagged me to a post for openings at a hotel. I still thank

god that my chef did not kick me out for my infidelity to the store, instead gave me a pep talk before

I tread into that roller coaster like an excited kid at an amusement park!

There’s a saying in the kitchen “make the first 2 days a little comfortable for the kids”. Ah what a

glorious welcome I received. My feet were frolicking from one section to the other at 9am, but by

4pm I could barely feel them! I went to the Executive Sous Chef at 7pm to call it a day and by 7:30pm

I was in my car hitting the pedals with my swollen and wobbly feet.

I was only getting used to saying bye to the chefs at 7:30pm when the cute and tall Indian chef

summoned me to shape roti’s and engage in chit chat. I thought he was trying to get to know me

better, which he was but was also just extracting work out of me! From then it went to the hotel

hitting the gas pedal and me staying back till closing hours or tapping my feet to some good music

while making pasta for banquet guests. Life just went to 14 hours shift, running around, weight loss,

responsibilities and greater learning with increased independence.

I’m not saying it was a joy ride. I did get frustrated and even threatened to quit, but those happy

faces and loud laughter’s held me back. But like all happy moments, this too ended. I was

summoned at the HR office and told “tomorrow is your last working day…” These are the last words I

remember before everything became a murmur to my frozen brain. It was like those string of black

clouds coming together to form a darkness before the pour. I worked the hardest that night knowing

it would be my last with all those people. I laughed, laughed out loud, giggled at those jokes but

cried a little more inside.

My steps felt heavy the next morning. Only felt like that over hungover mornings college! I kept

gazing at the clock to check how much time I had left and each hour seemed to be racing, pouncing

and closing in on me. I gasped, sweated, heard only mumbles pass through my ear, saw those faces

but did not process emotions. All I had were those last 10 hours with that extra sharp yet beloved

knife, the stolen ladle from the Indian section, the boiling soup in the saucepan, loud call out from

the service guy for tea and coffee and the warm words of my Sous Chef embracing me as I fought back my tears.