Dear all,
I tried out at the Noodle takeout shop. For four hours. It reminded me of the time I worked in Toys 'R' Us during school days.
The basic makeup of this store are its three to four cooks, the uncle running the place (father), the auntie running the place (mother) and the son (fat, quiet, dissociative college kid who looks like he thinks he's really smart and probably does).
It's nothing great, or fun. In the first half hour, I was already taking orders and operating the cashier and people use a lot of eftpos--what you would call a debit card--here. Later, I washed dishes, and I still have the stench on my hands: those gloves really leave a foul odour. It was mainly an over the counter thing; taking customer orders, taking payments, taking phone orders, generating orders...
During dinner time, plenty of customers come by for takeout. The counter livens up and the uncle starts talking to me in Canto. Sometimes they--the family of them--starts speaking Mandarin and I have to figure what the fuck they are saying, which isn't really that hard some of the times.
It's humbling, to say the least, but to really say the least is what I got paid in the end of that four hours. I didn't even care if I got paid. Usually, I would write about my exploits, but today, it's about theirs, exploiting me. What a waste of time: Illegal under minimum wage chores.
But I have to do something...
Yours affectionately,
-Fuckyournoodleshopandassholeson
I tried out at the Noodle takeout shop. For four hours. It reminded me of the time I worked in Toys 'R' Us during school days.
The basic makeup of this store are its three to four cooks, the uncle running the place (father), the auntie running the place (mother) and the son (fat, quiet, dissociative college kid who looks like he thinks he's really smart and probably does).
It's nothing great, or fun. In the first half hour, I was already taking orders and operating the cashier and people use a lot of eftpos--what you would call a debit card--here. Later, I washed dishes, and I still have the stench on my hands: those gloves really leave a foul odour. It was mainly an over the counter thing; taking customer orders, taking payments, taking phone orders, generating orders...
During dinner time, plenty of customers come by for takeout. The counter livens up and the uncle starts talking to me in Canto. Sometimes they--the family of them--starts speaking Mandarin and I have to figure what the fuck they are saying, which isn't really that hard some of the times.
It's humbling, to say the least, but to really say the least is what I got paid in the end of that four hours. I didn't even care if I got paid. Usually, I would write about my exploits, but today, it's about theirs, exploiting me. What a waste of time: Illegal under minimum wage chores.
But I have to do something...
Yours affectionately,
-Fuckyournoodleshopandassholeson
No comments:
Post a Comment