/ck/ - Food & Cooking

>be me, early twenties
>my older brother has been a chef for years, and works with a posse of friends
>they start up a restaurant for the summer as a test run to see if they could do it
>brother asks if i want to work there may-august
>sure, i didn't have a summer gig lined up
>start as a server, just carrying trays, taking orders and pouring drinks
>middle of july
>sweltering hot, like holy shit
>restaurant is on a small island outside of town, all the eaters arrive on their boats (it's Norway) and there's gulls fucking everywhere stealing leftovers and drinking spilled beer
>it's the most hectic season, stressed to fuck while feeling like i'm about to have a heat stroke from the black waitress uniform while there's a fat fuck of a gull trying to steal the food im serving
>go back inside for their drinks, like eight 0.5l plastic cups of beer
>trip on a chair leg and crash down on the floor
>somehow miraculously manage to miss every single patron with the beer but soaking myself from head to toe (the eating area is in the open air, on a wooden pier so the beer just runs off through the planks)
>go back inside and tell the guys that put out the most money to get the project going and is the de-facto owner
>he's also a 2.3m tall monster of a man with a chiseled moustache that intimidates the fuck out of me
>he tells me not to worry, just put on a new uniform and get back to it
>because it's on an island and not a permanent restaurant, there's no running water, everything is brought in from the shore
>i.e no showers
>and there's no way to get more help, so we're stuck with what we've got
>manage to get through the rest of the day, even as i stink like a finn
>sitting on the pier with the other staff, eating the homemade icecream we serve and just relaxing
>moustache comes down and calls out my name
>"you owe me six beers"
>grabs me by the belt and the scruff of my shirt
>yeets me right out into the ocean
And that's the only time I've worked in the restaurant business