Workmates

The way I see my workmates has changed over the past month. It’s not about good or poor change. It has merely changed.

Seeing your managers, Head Chef or any workmates drunk, in lack of self-control, inspiring pity or issues, modifies the respect and the authority they inspire at first sight.

Every day I know them a little more. Sometimes I become the confident of my workmates who complain about someone’s work or attitude: “I hate her. Je la déteste. And I am sure you think the same thing.”

I prefer not to say anything because it is too dangerous. But I am comforted to be the confident rather than the victim.

And I feel that even though I was a fool Wednesday and made one thousand mistakes, they like me. Mandy calls me “Gorgeous”, Javier calls me “mamy” and Eleo buys chocolate for me. The chocolate with crispy caramel inside.

Wednesday I wanted to cry. I fucked up almost all the orders I took or did not take. My brain was not there. Eleo was looking at me with a mocking smile.

“Eleo, is it written somewhere in my face that... I am f**** lost?”

“Yes. And this is why I love you.”