Back some time in the late 70’s when I was working at a big hotel in Winnipeg, I broke ground and became the first female Chief Steward in the history of the company. I had pestered the F&B Manager for a couple of months, because I wanted to get away from the reception and booking office… He finally relented and gave me a job with a far fancier title than job duties. I was to be in charge of all dishwashers and night cleaners, most of whom knew little or no English. The day staff was no big problem – they were mostly Portugese or from the Philippines and in most cases they had been working there for years.
The night cleaners were a different matter. Most of them came from Somalia and if they knew any language aside from their own, it was a smattering of French – which I was no good at. They were all – without exception – taking courses in English so they could one day go to university, and they did a lot of their studying at night… Communicating with them was not easy, but somehow I still managed to give them instructions – or so I thought at least. They worked between 10PM and 6AM, the pay was so-so and the job was dirty. They were the ones who cleaned all the stoves, emptied deep friers, cleaned the floors in all kitchen areas and cleaned out the grease traps in the kitchens. It always amazed me how they managed to clean up the pigsty left by the cooks – and STILL have time to study. The kitchens would be gleaming every morning when the day staff came to work – even if the place had looked like a disaster area less than 6 hours earlier.
Then one morning when I came into work early I was met by the Chef who was foaming at the mouth. He was pointing at the big stock pot that was empty while sputtering something I couldn’t understand. I junior cook finally filled me in – the pot had been filled with all the goodies that go into making stock and had been left to cool overnight… Admittedly, when you’ve boiled the living daylight out of meat, bones and vegetables of various and/or questionable age and freshness it does look like something one should get rid of – and fast! So a newly hired night cleaner had done just that – emptied the stock pot and left it clean and shiny….
I honestly can’t remember how we managed to placate the Chef but I’m sure it involved lots of coffee and lots of patting on the hand. He was normally a very calm and collected person, but that day we certainly got to know where his limit was.
Now, why did I think of this story? Because I was making my own stock today. I was only using a pot that holds 10 liters – the one at the hotel must’ve been for at least 150 liters…
