My first service-industry job was a lot more mass-market: a holiday-camp kitchen, where a typical service was for 500 or so guests often damp from the rain.
I was “on starters”, which meant our army-trained (and so incredibly organised) chef had laid out 500 silver bowls and I’d fill each with the regulation treat: up to 4 prawns, two leaves of lettuce, a sliced tomato and a spoon of Marie Rose sauce. Load about 20 onto a tray and one of the wait-staff (a couple of notches up the social status than me) would whisk it out to the salivating masses.
I can still picture the only guy who seemed to be lower-status: a giant washer-upper, elbow-deep in a greasy sink the size of a padding pool, obscured by the steam for hours at a time.
I loved this read so much happening: the fish; the phone call; the dog; the request for IUD. Captivating story.
Funny, I’m working on one as well.
I’m not sure if I can post my least favorite job. I’ll just say briefly my two brothers came to live with me while I was in university and I need to make extra money so I could help them out while they were in recovery.
I took a job bartending.
I had no idea that there would be dancers or what kind of dancers would be the entertainment.
One night, a dancer didn’t show up, the one who danced with a snake.
I’m no good with snakes generally, I’d have run a mile! Sorry if I laughed inappropriately – that’s such a surprising job to be asked to be a stand-in for. Definitely the most unusual so far.
Oh what a joy this is. I love the naivety of that first hospitality job and the sneaking around with meringues. Also I'm so impressed that you kept your diaries. They are brilliant. So funny Wendy a perfect read for a Wednesday.
Thanks, Margaret! Can you tell I had a strange relationship with food back then? The meringue thief! Yes, I've got past the "cringe factor" when I look back at my diaries now. I've enough distance to just enjoy being reminded of my younger self, naivety and all, without judgement. I'm glad I fought the urge to burn them!
Only if you’re in the mood, Prajna. I sometimes feel up to writing about tricky things and sometimes I don’t. I’ve quite a long list of “set-asides”! But then again a prompt can be motivating.
I have the same feeling you expressed about the ‘60s—I was in elementary school, but I think I’d have been really good at the ‘60s had I been a young adult.
The strange thing is, Leanne, looking back now on my 1960s childhood, I did feel "the spirit of the age", even in the South Yorkshire town I grew up in, via the fashions, who was on Top of the Pops, what was on the news or on the radio, who I aspired to be (Cathy McGowan!). But of course as a child that's your normality, so you don't get the historical significance of it all till much later. Not a bad '60s experience to have had. And as it was, I got to experience London in the '80s, which was pretty exciting!
This is a great time picture, Wendy. I love reading life glimpses like these. While you were experiencing this place in your life, at the same time, all of us reading this now were somewhere else in the world having those first job, new life experiences. Figuring out who we would be and trying to grow up whole. I'm so glad you kept your diaries.
Thank you, Lyndsey. Yes, those first jobs in our lives are so revealing. Little time capsules. That hotel experience was just three months, but seems to contain a whole world in my memory. What were you doing in 1980, Lyndsey?
I think I was working at a Summer church camp that year, which was volunteer, but it got me out of the house. The next Summer was when the cherry season and waitressing era started. Fun times!
Really enjoyed this Wendy - can just picture the hotel with your lovely descriptions. The toast, the butter cubes. Such a northern English idea of 'posh'. And that menu!
Thanks, Fi! I was so glad I'd kept a sample menu as it tells you so much about the "posh nosh" of the times. Personally typed up and run off on the Gestetner by me.
I must try and recreate the curly toast, if I can bring myself to put sliced white on the shopping list.
I always wonder about the man whose dog died, and whether that trauma led to divorce. And whether Mary found a good woman in her northern town.
Love this Wendy, the diary entries are a delight. Your time there reminded me of that BBC drama, The Lakes. I suspect all hotels are a hotbed of intrigue, behind the scenes. And I went to Goldsmiths too!
It’s definitely worth a watch. I lived in New Cross for many happy years, St Donatts Rd, and was at Goldsmiths between Sep ‘93-June ‘96. I did start a year earlier but dropped out because I couldn’t stand the Sociology module…In the end I walked away with a BA Hons in Media & Comms….To this day, when asked, I huffily confirm that, yes, it was a real degree :)
Nothing wrong with Media & Comms! I was still living in SE London then. Fond memories of New Cross, Deptford and that whole area. Sometimes go back to Greenwich as a tourist, which I love.
I disliked working in theatres during my nurse training over 50 years ago. One day I was preparing to assist a very junior surgeon with a simple case while his senior supervised him. Wanting to impress the senior surgeon, he said to me “Keep your hands exactly there” placing them in position himself. He then promptly accidentally sliced through one of my fingers with the scalpel, requiring another surgeon to stitch it up in the theatre next door.
PS The patient was fine and his surgery successful.
Very luckily no tendon or ligament damage but had to be off duty until healed. Thankfully it was to a new clinical location, so maybe every cloud does have a silver lining !
I worked at a Little Chef and that was brutal but also very funny. Loved this post. It has made me long for a restaurant with a sweet trolley now though
Ah, I can imagine how manic Little Chef must have been, Katy - used to call there when on the road with my kids when they were little, as I knew they wouldn’t turn their noses up at a buttered tea cake! And there was usually some plastic slide or something in a corner or in the car park, if I remember right.
(Then there was the Heston TV programme where he tried to make them more foodie.)
Maybe that would be good to reminisce about in your own Substack? I’d like to hear more!
My first job, in 1988, was making sandwiches in the local deli. I hated it. The woman who ran the place insisted I experiment with ever more unappetising mixtures of fillings. She would take me into the cold store and inspect the meat. If it wasn’t actually mouldy or maggoty she told me to use it, even if it smelled and looked awful.
Thanks for reading and commenting, Sasha. Ugh, that sounds truly gross, with the dodgy meat. And bananas and corned beef?! Maybe she was trying to be avant-garde, but that sounds disgusting!
That is a great piece of writing! It’s funny - as soon as I saw the postcard I thought “This is like Fawlty Towers!” and then you described the manager…
Great read, Wendy. Thoroughly enjoyed it. The shooting party men sound like a delight! Funnily enough, we were in Grassington a few days ago. Can’t recall if the Wilson Arms was still there?!
My first service-industry job was a lot more mass-market: a holiday-camp kitchen, where a typical service was for 500 or so guests often damp from the rain.
I was “on starters”, which meant our army-trained (and so incredibly organised) chef had laid out 500 silver bowls and I’d fill each with the regulation treat: up to 4 prawns, two leaves of lettuce, a sliced tomato and a spoon of Marie Rose sauce. Load about 20 onto a tray and one of the wait-staff (a couple of notches up the social status than me) would whisk it out to the salivating masses.
I can still picture the only guy who seemed to be lower-status: a giant washer-upper, elbow-deep in a greasy sink the size of a padding pool, obscured by the steam for hours at a time.
Hahaha! “Up to four prawns”! The decadence!
I loved this read so much happening: the fish; the phone call; the dog; the request for IUD. Captivating story.
Funny, I’m working on one as well.
I’m not sure if I can post my least favorite job. I’ll just say briefly my two brothers came to live with me while I was in university and I need to make extra money so I could help them out while they were in recovery.
I took a job bartending.
I had no idea that there would be dancers or what kind of dancers would be the entertainment.
One night, a dancer didn’t show up, the one who danced with a snake.
I was asked to take her place.
That was my last night.
Most of the jobs I had I really enjoyed .
🌹
Oh my goodness that made me laugh, Prajna, being asked to stand in as a snake dancer!
Thanks for your wonderful comment.
Thank you. I can see how that might be funny.
Probably more traumatising than funny at the time, I imagine? I can see why you didn’t stick with the job.
Definitely scared me
I’m no good with snakes generally, I’d have run a mile! Sorry if I laughed inappropriately – that’s such a surprising job to be asked to be a stand-in for. Definitely the most unusual so far.
Oh, honey, your laugh made me laugh. There is more of a story here, how I escaped. No harm done. I might write it. You’ve encouraged me on now…
Well, I would love to read that, Prajna! It sounds a pretty wild story!
Your distinctive voice makes this a fun read.
Thank you, Jill.
Oh what a joy this is. I love the naivety of that first hospitality job and the sneaking around with meringues. Also I'm so impressed that you kept your diaries. They are brilliant. So funny Wendy a perfect read for a Wednesday.
Thanks, Margaret! Can you tell I had a strange relationship with food back then? The meringue thief! Yes, I've got past the "cringe factor" when I look back at my diaries now. I've enough distance to just enjoy being reminded of my younger self, naivety and all, without judgement. I'm glad I fought the urge to burn them!
Sadly I did burn my diaries! And had similarly awful hotel jobs in my teens!
Noooo, not more burnt diaries! I understand that temptation though!
Lovely read! My son has Andy Partridge’s old guitar. XTC were great. I was dancing at a club recently to Sergeant Rock.
Oh wow! Danny's got good taste, guitar-wise! XTC were great. It's been a treat listening to them again while writing this.
Okay. I'll give it a go! I'll need to sink inot a dark corner, as you know, I'm not afraid of the dark, especially when its dead.
Only if you’re in the mood, Prajna. I sometimes feel up to writing about tricky things and sometimes I don’t. I’ve quite a long list of “set-asides”! But then again a prompt can be motivating.
Brilliant Wendy, meringues, moldy cheese, sullen washer uppers and all: great trip
back via your diaries . Fantastic you kept them, look forward to more! XTC rules… Andy Partridge where are you?
Thank you so much, Prasanna! The Guardian piece I linked to in the footnotes is from 2022 – Andy Partridge has had a pretty hard life.
I have the same feeling you expressed about the ‘60s—I was in elementary school, but I think I’d have been really good at the ‘60s had I been a young adult.
The strange thing is, Leanne, looking back now on my 1960s childhood, I did feel "the spirit of the age", even in the South Yorkshire town I grew up in, via the fashions, who was on Top of the Pops, what was on the news or on the radio, who I aspired to be (Cathy McGowan!). But of course as a child that's your normality, so you don't get the historical significance of it all till much later. Not a bad '60s experience to have had. And as it was, I got to experience London in the '80s, which was pretty exciting!
This is a great time picture, Wendy. I love reading life glimpses like these. While you were experiencing this place in your life, at the same time, all of us reading this now were somewhere else in the world having those first job, new life experiences. Figuring out who we would be and trying to grow up whole. I'm so glad you kept your diaries.
Thank you, Lyndsey. Yes, those first jobs in our lives are so revealing. Little time capsules. That hotel experience was just three months, but seems to contain a whole world in my memory. What were you doing in 1980, Lyndsey?
I think I was working at a Summer church camp that year, which was volunteer, but it got me out of the house. The next Summer was when the cherry season and waitressing era started. Fun times!
Really enjoyed this Wendy - can just picture the hotel with your lovely descriptions. The toast, the butter cubes. Such a northern English idea of 'posh'. And that menu!
Thanks, Fi! I was so glad I'd kept a sample menu as it tells you so much about the "posh nosh" of the times. Personally typed up and run off on the Gestetner by me.
I must try and recreate the curly toast, if I can bring myself to put sliced white on the shopping list.
I always wonder about the man whose dog died, and whether that trauma led to divorce. And whether Mary found a good woman in her northern town.
Love this Wendy, the diary entries are a delight. Your time there reminded me of that BBC drama, The Lakes. I suspect all hotels are a hotbed of intrigue, behind the scenes. And I went to Goldsmiths too!
Thanks so much, Sharon! I haven't watched The Lakes, but thanks for the tip – looks like it's available on iPlayer.
I was only briefly at Goldsmiths – lasted two terms, but stayed in SE London for years afterwards. When were you there?
It’s definitely worth a watch. I lived in New Cross for many happy years, St Donatts Rd, and was at Goldsmiths between Sep ‘93-June ‘96. I did start a year earlier but dropped out because I couldn’t stand the Sociology module…In the end I walked away with a BA Hons in Media & Comms….To this day, when asked, I huffily confirm that, yes, it was a real degree :)
Nothing wrong with Media & Comms! I was still living in SE London then. Fond memories of New Cross, Deptford and that whole area. Sometimes go back to Greenwich as a tourist, which I love.
Same. Great place.
I disliked working in theatres during my nurse training over 50 years ago. One day I was preparing to assist a very junior surgeon with a simple case while his senior supervised him. Wanting to impress the senior surgeon, he said to me “Keep your hands exactly there” placing them in position himself. He then promptly accidentally sliced through one of my fingers with the scalpel, requiring another surgeon to stitch it up in the theatre next door.
PS The patient was fine and his surgery successful.
Oh, ouch! I’m wincing, Maureen. Talk about perils of the job! Was your hand ok afterwards?
Yes, thanks, beautifully stitched! Very hard to see the suture line now after all these years. He was very apologetic !
I should think he was apologetic! Crikey!
Very luckily no tendon or ligament damage but had to be off duty until healed. Thankfully it was to a new clinical location, so maybe every cloud does have a silver lining !
I worked at a Little Chef and that was brutal but also very funny. Loved this post. It has made me long for a restaurant with a sweet trolley now though
Ah, I can imagine how manic Little Chef must have been, Katy - used to call there when on the road with my kids when they were little, as I knew they wouldn’t turn their noses up at a buttered tea cake! And there was usually some plastic slide or something in a corner or in the car park, if I remember right.
(Then there was the Heston TV programme where he tried to make them more foodie.)
Maybe that would be good to reminisce about in your own Substack? I’d like to hear more!
Yes, I’m a sucker for a sweet trolley, too.
My first job, in 1988, was making sandwiches in the local deli. I hated it. The woman who ran the place insisted I experiment with ever more unappetising mixtures of fillings. She would take me into the cold store and inspect the meat. If it wasn’t actually mouldy or maggoty she told me to use it, even if it smelled and looked awful.
Just remembered one of the combos she told me to try out - banana and corned beef. Ugh.
Thanks for reading and commenting, Sasha. Ugh, that sounds truly gross, with the dodgy meat. And bananas and corned beef?! Maybe she was trying to be avant-garde, but that sounds disgusting!
That is a great piece of writing! It’s funny - as soon as I saw the postcard I thought “This is like Fawlty Towers!” and then you described the manager…
Thank you, Jeff! Yep, there is a bit of a resemblance, even in the building, see what you mean.
Great read, Wendy. Thoroughly enjoyed it. The shooting party men sound like a delight! Funnily enough, we were in Grassington a few days ago. Can’t recall if the Wilson Arms was still there?!
Thank you, Andy, and thanks for inspiring me with your entertaining account of cold-calling horrors.
The Wilson Arms closed in 1988 and was converted into a care home. (It was in Threshfield, just outside Grassington.)