Kitchen Nightmare
By: Trip Case
As I walked up the path to Lisa’s office, I started to feel anxious. With each step my legs felt weaker, and my stomach was tied in a knot. It was a warm Friday evening but I felt cold and clammy. My coworker's words from the last shift repeated in my head, each time feeling like a stab to the back. “Listen man,” he said, “We’re sick of feeling underappreciated, we’re out of here.”
“One week,” I thought to myself. One more week of serving food to over 250 people and cleaning up after them. One more week of small cuts and burns on my hands, not realizing how I got them. One more week of working in that “top of the line” kitchen that the camp was so proud of, yet had no air conditioning which made the combination of summer heat and steam from the ovens feel like a sauna and made me lightheaded on numerous occasions.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Lisa in a final move of desperation, “If you agree to stay, I’ll have the CIT’s help you out each shift.” Hearing this, my head shot up. I always got along with the CIT’s as we were around the same age and we would bond over shared experiences of being pushed around by the counselors, who treated us like kids even though they were only a year or two older. With a reluctant groan, I agreed to stay for the final week and left the office to go and enjoy my day off, which I would need to mentally prepare for the week that was about to come.
The only thing keeping me from losing my mind were the CIT’s who helped me throughout the week. Two would help me serve food and clean up at each meal. They did good work but that wasn’t the only way they helped me. They filled the void of loneliness left by my ex-coworkers by cracking jokes with me as we worked and messing with each other by having water fights with the hoses connected to the sinks. I got to know a lot of them better from that week and while they may have only been camp friends, they have a special place in my heart because of what they did for me.
When I entered the tiny office, I was greeted by a rush of cool air coming from the air conditioner, which is a luxury at a summer camp, and by my manager Lisa who had a worried look on her face, as if she knew why I was there. “I can’t do this,” I said, my voice shaking with nervousness, “I’m not going to pick up the slack left by Jay, Greg, and Eli.” Lisa leaned back in her chair and sighed. “We can’t afford to lose you too,” she stated, “Think about the commitment you made and how much you’ll make if you stay. We’re in the home stretch; it’s just one more week.”
As I continued to think, feelings of stress and loneliness overwhelmed me. I felt like my coworkers abandoned me, people who I spent the past 8 weeks working and living with, played NBA 2k and went on midnight Domino’s runs with. They decided to leave me entire burden because they were yelled at a couple times.
While it was only a week, each day felt like a year. Every morning, I woke up at 6:15, started work at 6:30, and wouldn’t be done for the day until 10:30 and even sometimes 11 o’clock. While I did have an hour break in between each shift, it wasn’t enough time to regain energy for the next meal and by the end of each day as I would be running on Red Bull and fumes. After every meal, I had to wash the dishes and scrub the pots and pans making sure that there was no grease on them, as the head cook was very particular about that.
On the last night of the Summer, I clocked out for the final time. As I walked outside of that sauna of a kitchen with my face red and covered in sweat and my limbs feeling like they were about to give out, the evening August breeze cooled me off. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t help but smile. I was done. I gained a sense of gratitude from that week. I was grateful to the CIT’s, who could have whined and groaned about being there, but instead came into the situation with such positive and infectious attitudes, it rubbed off on me. I was also grateful for the challenge, as it tested my will and taught me that anything is possible with the right people supporting you.