This is not meant to invite any jokes, but this is a serious question, even to me as I experienced it (again) last weekend how tough it is to get $50.
Perhaps I made it sound like an agony, but honestly and seriously, I feel that $50 is really a huge sum of money for a lot of people, for those I would say (this is the fact of life) less fortunate than you and me who could just sit somewhere comfortably to read this.
This is my story, trying to give an answer to myself on that question.
Last weekend, both Saturday and Sunday, I decided to work part-time in a kitchen of a bakery somewhere in the expats-patronized region. There are a lot of nice cafes and restaurants to eat there, and you could just easily spend tens of dollars (if not $50) per head without a blink. The work started at 6:30 in the morning on the day when I usually try to sleep in a little (lazy me) and ended only at 6:00pm, and getting worst at 7:00pm on the second day of work.
Wait a minute. Before I continue, perhaps it is good to share my motivation to work in that kitchen (I haven’t found a “real” kitchen restaurant yet), while having my full-time job from Monday to Friday. It's not that I desperately need the $5 per hour wage they offer, and honestly I felt it is really pathetic to earn $5 an hour (in a so-commercialized city like Singapore these days), while taking a cab to get me there costs on average 2-hours-of-working-pay. It's quite funny though as I first mentioned about the remuneration to two of my good friends who are based in the Western countries. Both of them used exactly the same word: "LEGAL" - Is that legal? Isn't that illegal? That would certainly be illegal here!!!
So I think it's quite clear that my reason was neither the money nor the "so much" free time I have that I need to pass/kill. It all boils down to exploring my passion. I want to know how it is like to work in a real commercial kitchen (although bakery is not really like what I have in mind). I want to know how the system works, the kitchen managements, or even just to improve my skills by looking or cutting or boiling or any kind of those. I just want to explore further before making the decision whether I should go to a cooking school and totally switch my career line.
So, I clocked in at 6:30am on both days and was given 2 pairs of kitchen jackets, complete with the aprons and the tall touques!!! I was quite thrilled when I put them on. I went to the changing room and looked at myself, smiling. Finally I'm getting into a kitchen! Done with that, I quickly went to the kitchen to start the work of the day. Basically the morning rush started with all the baking of the already-prepared chilled dough. Transferring the mini rolls to the baking trays, filling all the buns with yam/red bean/purple sweet potato-paste, blueberry filling, and milk cream, and such. It was quite fun. Without the feeling of spending too much effort, 2 hours passed by. Continued doing that until about 11am and I started feeling hungry. I started to wonder if they would provide some lunch for us. I saw some chicken teriyaki fillet prepared and I thought mmmm... maybe that would be our lunch. Well, I was having some kind of expectation that lunch might be provided, although breakfast not, because I’m working in a kitchen. It was really hot in the kitchen, especially somewhere near the huge oven and not-working air-conditioner, so that makes me really hungry fast.
So I was offered to go for “early” lunch around noon time. But where? Outside? No food provided!!! Well, there’s no choice that I have to get my own food outside, but I thought it won’t be so bad to come out earlier for an hour rest and getting some fresh air. I was told that normally the kitchen work finished around 3:30pm, or worst get extended until 5:00pm. By the time I got back to the office, it would already be 1:00pm and it won't be long till work time is over. By the way, mind you that lunch time is not paid. Maybe this is normal to work part-time. You are remunerated only for the amount of sweat you squeeze from your skin pores, not more than that.
An hours passed by sooooo fast. Soon I was back in the kitchen again. It got even hotter inside with the continuous baking of thousands of bread and buns, and not working air-conditioning system. It was really getting worst and a nightmare. I felt dehydrated and had to drink all the time. Continued working and rolling the croissants and hundreds or thousands of wassants (their famous chocolate/kaya/custard rolls) to be baked for the day, and also to kept in the fridge to prepare for the next day. It went on and on and on and it seemed like never ending. Prepared and rolled my favourite bun ever - the Cinnamon Rolls, hoping somehow that they will give me one! BUT it's really nothing offered. (Oh I make it sound like I’m a cheap-skate). I was reminded of how Gordon Ramsay, during his early days in the kitchen, was treated like a young bastard who got hungry and would eat anything offered all the time. Somewhat I was able to share his feeling. With this kind of intensive labour, one could easily get starved and dehydrated. I just ate my lunch at my normal portion, and as always, only fruit with juice or soy milk for breakfast. Maybe that’s not enough to give me the energy as surely I underestimated that.
By 5:00pm I was almost dead. I felt like my legs couldn’t support my body anymore, but work is still not done! Next I was asked to wash all the baking trays manually in the tiny sink that just fit the size. Brushed them one by one and rinse them, trying different kind of brush or sponge or clothe to find the most efficient ways to do it. Not happy that it might dry out the skin of my hand with the harsh dish-washing soap. I know you might think I’m so pampered, but hey don't complain. I'm just sharing my experience and what I felt then. So just keep your mouth shut and continue reading, else just close the window and get off!!!
One thing in my mind, I didn't want to come back. I don't know how I could survive to come back on the following day, Sunday, and repeat all this from the beginning. Some guys in the kitchen who knows that I have a full-time job, kept on teasing me not to come back the next day as they saw me totally worn-out. BUT I don’t know for what kind of reasons, maybe pride, maybe I really wanted to test myself, maybe I don’t want to be seen as weak and pampered, or maybe I actually liked it to be in a kitchen, I told myself that I would come back to show.
Finished with the washing, and all the preparation for the next day, we had to wash the kitchen floor. Not only spraying with water and drying it out, but we needed to brush the floor. Honestly, I was almost sitting on the floor, my legs were aching and felt like not able to support my body anymore. I’m only a half-marathoner and have not attempted or trained for the full one yet. I couldn't take it. The worst part is actually my lower back. Got to bend for 10 straight hours was a real hard thing for my lower back. (I smiled actually when I review this writing).
Hesitated and not happy to wash the floor, cause I thought that I was there only to do the kitchen work, and not to do any kind of cleaning service, I had to do that. So when it was over, the clock was 6:00pm and we were done for the day. What a big relieve! What an accomplishment of the day! Another guy from the kitchen asked me again - more like a tease I would say – “Are you coming tomorrow? No need lah!” (With the Singlish slang of course!).
Hey hell ya! I'm coming back tomorrow.
(Ugh it was a real challenge to say YES).
I walked out from the back door and felt good getting the fresh air. My shirts were totally drenched with my own sweat. I needed to get it slightly dry out before getting into the fully blushed air-con in the cab. I walked to the taxi-stand. Wait a minute! I stopped and told myself, “Why should I got a cab after working and earning $5 per hour which was like a real physical torture during the last hours?”. I turned my direction towards the bus stop. I totally forgot about my first intention that I was there to learn, to gain an insight about a kitchen and not desperately looking for money. I hopped on the bus and fortunately I got a seat. Not long after that, I got a call from my brother. I told him my experience briefly and he just said, "You should have taken a cab home, you are there to learn and not for the pennies". Yeah, he was right but my mindset was somewhat distorted.
It was a privilege for me to have a job that pays me decent - although seriously not well at all, and still be able to work in that kitchen for something else other than just to earn a living. I'm seriously thinking that this is a real tough world, and maybe unfair life. Well, it's true that some people are born with certain talents, gifts, brains and opportunities that could earn them a million dollars in a year or even more, but on the opposite end, some people has to squeeze their sweat out to earn a bowl of rice – I believe that situation is even worse in poorer countries.
I am here NOT to question whether life is fair or unfair, doubting the CREATOR's authority. However, this experience certainly forces me to think about money again, to be able to use it wisely.
So $50 is indeed very very precious.
Am I coming back to the kitchen again....?!? Yes, definitely. I will still be here until I find another kitchen to work for. I’m hoping that I will find my mentor one day. When I get into different kitchens then I will tell you different stories. After all, it's Kitchen Runaway.... :-)
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