Stick a Wafer In It

I officially hate whipped cream. In fact, whipped cream is a specious bitch. When my new manager, Nat, unceremoniously pushed me out of the confines of kitchen duties, I took a jubilant step forward towards my coveted friend, 'cold drinks'. I love the customer interaction, the floor to ceiling view of the sunset splintering over the horizon, scouting for attractive men; it can all be found in the industrial cold drinks.

In fact, my initial approach of The Big Amore cafe for a paid position last autumn, was on the assumption that front of house service was the job in question. Customer service was my métier. Besides, I had neither the qualifications nor the interest in slaving over a hot stove while my previous barista work was limited to a standard milk, one sugar coffee, thank you very much. After fifteen years in the retail industry, where I pondered 'Rodin style' on the “What do I want to do when I grow up?” quandary, I had paradoxically made the decision to end up begging for a hospitality night job for extra income.

Six months in the said job and it appeared Nat was giving me a long awaited reprieve from the much loathed heat and grime of the kitchen. Cold drinks transported me to an air-conditioned haven where I espied the cheer and lively chatter of customers. Genteel society twirled their spaghetti with gusto while adults with a more distinguished palate ordered nocciola and blood orange gelato. Surrounded by such joie de vivre, I felt The Big Amore finally delivered on its namesake and my heart played tippy-tippy-tay while Dean Martin crooned on the cafe soundtrack. Life was indeed beautiful.

The Big Amore's appeal to the upper middle class of Brighton was recently cemented with its renovated black and white checkerboard floors and decorative suspended ceiling. The brilliant waitstaff at the cafe was the status quo. Nevertheless, seemingly endless order tickets lined up in the colds section, neglected and demanding attention as long-weekenders appeared to be out in full force. Determined to abandon the seclusion that the dreaded dishwasher delivers, I took a big gulp of courage and walked confidently in my Wolford black sheers to my new normal. Nat immediately barked out instructions and demands. I was not to be unnerved by her bravado however. The night manager was junior to me in age and rumour had it, all her power lay in her caffè latte.

Three hours on in the cold drinks arena and I was amazed at the errors that can amass regardless of your internal Tony Robbins, “You've got this” pep talk. I was politely reminded that 'ta' on a docket refers to 'takeaway' as opposed to 'ta mate, on ya'. Moreover, all those skim/almond /soy milk do-gooders, only serve to shatter the calming chi this waitress-in-training is desperately attempting to cultivate. Surely these milk caveats speak of an entitled generation looking for trouble. One docket denoted banana thickshake almond milk as well as banana smoothie soy milk (or was it the other way round?). On realising my milk swap disaster, I swore, “Vaffanculo!” like an Italian local while spiritedly raising my palm to my forehead.

Next item on the agenda is the wonderful world of whipped cream. An accompaniment to most cold drink orders, you cannot escape whipped cream despite your best efforts. I shook and twirled the confounded whipped cream canister like a baton, finishing off with the Heimlich manoeuvre on occasion. Regardless, a lacklustre spray persisted. Shortly after application, the cream would further test my resolve by deviating every which way but up. By the time I gently placed the compulsory chocolate wafer stick in Whippy, he would avalanche down his favoured side. Spoons in hand, I would attempt to Michelangelo the cream to its former domed glory.

Shortly after midnight and I survived the shift through momentum alone. Silverware all wrapped, the last chore to be addressed on the evening's to-do list, I was ready to pull off my bra and go home to my foam roller. Alas, hobbling to the exit like Quasimodo, Nat spat out that I'd be back in the kitchen for my next shift. Just stick a wafer in it!