Day 3 wagamama slavery continues

The morning is spent assisting the most miserable chef make preparations. Not only is he miserable, but exceedingly stupid, so despite the years he has devoted to wagamama he still has no idea how to perform the most basic tasks and yet he has been assigned to teach and supervise me. At least the supervision part he takes seriously, barking orders every five minutes. I think without saying that please would not be a difficult word to say, but when he tells me I am not working fast enough my thoughts and the language that accompany them become violent. Why can't these people know that they are being exploited, and that making an extra effort will never be rewarded?

I am also feeling the start of xenophobic feelings, since all the non-english staff are uniformly serious about their task and express themselves with gloomy faces which may be understandable considering the environment, do not serve to build morale generally.

I am looking for something truly scandalous, but so far the closest I have got is that my discovery of food past its use by date is greeted with a "so what?" by the head chef. Apparently food needs to be decomposing before it is considered fit for disposal.

Around midday I am given the worst job in the kitchen - enrobing thawing raw chicken breast in flour, egg and panko. Every 10 minutes someone will tell me that I am using the wrong techniques, and after half an hour the head asks me if I have finished. I think I am going at a fair pace, but there is a huge amount to get through: about 50 kilos of meat, 40 eggs, a bag of flour and a bin of panko. After four hours my hand is feeling numb from frost bite and looks similar to the breasts that are being coated, but I have finished.

My alleged slowness is reported to the next shift leader, and the next morning the head chef has heard and tells me I must work faster.

Wagamama decline to offer my mcjob

Unfortunately I was away when the refusal call came. For some reason I was surprised they could afford to turn me down even though I managed to create salads that are siimultaneously too big and too small, they had surprisingly found little else to find fault with me. According to the message left on my answering service there was another candidate they had not told me about who they felt was better - presumably he just the right size salad!

I can't understand how they can refuse me, after all I am charming, witty, urbane aswell as being capable of doing a semi-skilled job for almost nothing, infact literally for nothing during the 10 hour "training" ordeal.

I can't take no for an answer so after licking my wounds I decide to challenge their decision. When I call and ask for Bill I discover he has moved on. I hope he has been sacked but suspect he has gone off to humiliate the next bunch of aprentices wherever they open next. In any case I am lucky as his replacement sounds like he has the opposite temprament. Unfortunately he want me to go through another "training day" because they have "lost my file".

Back to square one.