Imagine this scene; it’s the third week in August, it’s 2:30 pm, the bar is packed out. Only two staff working today including yours truly, but we are coping well and then up turns a woman dressed in really boring clothesyou wouldn’t want to see on your granny. She plonks a big heavy briefcase on the bar top, flicks it open and on top of everything lies the inevitable clip board and beneath the clip board even more frighteningly, loads of very technical measuring devices.
There’s one to measure the heat, the coldness and the emission of just about anything that could every come out of any part of a kitchen. I try not to panic and keep at least half my mind on the eagerly waiting customers, but it’s quite impossible, just as the moment a nurse is about to stick a needle in you cannot stop yourself wincing, well I started to tremble, I don’t mind admitting it, the thought of all that powerful rocket science and the even greater power of her ministry clipboard, threw me into a panic.
At long length she called me into a corner of the bar and said. "I should fail you on several things, but I am going to be lenient and give you 3 months to put your ship in order". At this she ripped out what must have been about the quadruplicate copy of her last hours scribblings and slapped a piece of pink paper in front of me whilst disappearing from the bar restaurant with the same lack of endearment with which she had entered it.
I began to read the piece of paper with my heart beating overtime, expecting to find all sorts of dreadful horrors, which would cost serious money to rectify, but as I read a warm glow lit up inside me and a wry grin started to form:
Lid to be provide for pedal bin.
ign to be provided denoting gentlemen’s toilet.
Extractor Hood central hole to be made 1cm wider in diameter.
Nothing to worry about at all, It was definitely time for a glass of sherry in celebration. We’ll no doubt see another recruit fresh out of uni. in her place visiting the bar at the same time next year.
