Wednesday, March 17, 2004

Wagamama "training" day

I turn up at 8 o'clock to find all the other staff at work in the kitchen already. I get my first ticking off since apparently you are expected to arrive 10 minutes before they start paying you to change into the uniform they only half provide. Being stopped from clocking in because you are changing into uniform seems a little harsh, but as I am "training" I will not be paid anything anyway, again not a concept I am familiar with.

Since there are no customers we are cooking for ourselves initially, followed by a test in which we cook food to be scrutinised by the head chef for faults before being thrown in the bin. Part of the training involves ordering and eating food to be prepared by the team half that is cooking/waiting.

There are two executive chefs, two sous chefs, and a weird hierarchy of people that have worked in other Wagamama kitchents. I think I am about the only one at my level that speaks English, at least natively. The most common language is Portugese, as in Brazil. Are they claiming asylum or is there a skills shortage of kitchen porters?

As with all shit jobs the workers take a pride in knowing exactly how each task it done and are always happy to share this information. Not sure how the politically incorrect screaming head chefs survive, but they are in their element here, hurling abuse and humiliation at every opportunity, questioning the chastity of the ladies and the virility of the men.

During the inspections I am told that my salads are both too large and too small, which typifies the gratuitous and contradictory advice that is provided throughout the day. After 8 hours I remind the chef that my free training time has come to an end but I am told to wait another two hours before I am allowed out. Leave feeling drained after standing all day and being shouted at. No much gained apart from a free lunch and a few critiques.

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