Gaby Book 18 - Summery

 
Beep, beep!
Urgh, its too early! I grabbed my bag, cardi and keys, slipped my sunnies on my head and headed out to the waiting car.
“Morning,” Mrs T greeted far too cheerfully for half seven in the morning.
“Mornin’,” I managed pulling the back door open to get in.
“Heavy night?”
“Just early morning.”
“Aww, poor Gab’s,” Con chipped in.

It’s alright for them, having the bakery means they’re used to early starts so everyone else can have their daily bread alas I'm not a morning person, but you know that already. Our destination, Neuweid, isn’t that far but we’ll be catching the commuter traffic hence the early start. Therese soon had us heading towards the autobahn and a day of food preparation.

“Er, we’re here for the food preparation certificate,” I offered the girl on reception.

We did catch a load of traffic, there was some sort of roadworks on the Rhein bridge and then a bus had broken down in the town centre, we weren’t late but our buffer was reduced to just a few minutes.

“Names?” she enquired.
“Thesing and Bond,” Con supplied.
“Ah yes, you’re with Frau Becker, if you go up the stairs, left at the top, she’s the third door on the right.”
“Er thanks.”
“Have a nice day, girls, oh the toilet’s to the right of the stairs.”

Well, you know my policy, I set off for the facilities, with a shrug Con followed me.

“Frau Becker?” Con enquired sticking her head into the third door as instructed.
“Just one of you?”
“Er no, two,” I stated joining Con at the door.
“Well don’t stand out there, come on in.”

I'm not sure what I'd been expecting, a class of other students certainly, not the shiny stainless steel kitchen that we walked into.

“Pop the door,” Frau Becker suggested, “now who’s who?”
“Bond, Gaby,” I admitted.
“Which makes you Connie Thesing, yes?” our tutor deduced.
“Uh huh,” Con agreed.
“I'm Susan Becker, we’re on first name terms here if that's okay with you?”
“Er sure erm, Susan,” I answered for both of us.
“Right, that's that sorted, coffee?”

You really don’t want a blow by blow of a food hygiene and preparation course do you? Well you aren’t going to get one anyhow, okay a few edited ‘highlights’ then. Susan kept things pretty informal, which allowed us to relax and hopefully absorb more of what she was saying.

We spent most of the morning recapping what we already knew before covering more specific regulations and how they might affect us at the kiosk. Then we moved on to the more practical stuff, actual food storage, cooking, cleaning regimes and so on. Yeah cooking, I've been doing sausage and chips for years at home but it suddenly becomes more complicated when it’s for public consumption.

So anyway we got to practice würst grilling, Pommes frying, hot dog heating, roll slicing, onion sweating and currywurst serving to compliment our other excellent culinary skills. After everything was cleared up Susan had us do a short exam covering the day’s activities, the Abitur it wasn’t but even so some of the questions had me metaphorically scratching my head. We finished with more coffee while Susan marked our papers.

“Mum?...yeah we’re done...no a few minutes ago...yes mum...outside...thirty minutes...okay, see you there.”
Con shut her phone and stuffed it in her bag, “She’s gonna meet us in that Backhaus next to Saturn1.”
“’Kay, I was just thinking, we should get these certificates framed, put them up at the kiosk.”
“What for?”
“Well the customers could see we’ve had proper training.”
“You know we have.”
“But the customers won’t,” I pointed out.
“Whatever, we can probably get some frames in the Euro shop .”

Not my favourite stores but they do sometimes have some useful stuff.

“So you can cook Würst now?” Therese chuckled as we settled around a table with our coffee and cake.
“And fries and Bockwürst,” Con droned.
“Well I thought it was useful,” I told our sponsor.
“Never said it wasn’t,” Fräulein Thesing snuck in, “you get your stuff done?”
“Just about, new accounts for the kiosk set up, your dad needs to sign off on the insurance but that’s all organised too.”
“What do we need bank accounts for?” my partner in crime queried.
“So we can do the books properly, you’ll have to order supplies, pay in takings and so on, it needs to be separate to the shop or we’ll get in a right pickle.”
“I thought we’d just bring everything to the bakery.”
“Oh no, young lady, you’re not getting out of stuff that easily. There’s a couple of forms you’ll have to sign for the bank but then you’ll both be able to sign cheques and use the company cards.”
“Cool,” I managed.

“We walking up later?” Con asked when Therese dropped me off about an hour later.
“Unless it starts raining.”
“See you at five then.”
“Tschuss.”
“Tschussie.”

Later, yeah my other job, waitressing for Herr Sebenschuh and the English, the pay’s not great, the uniform over the top but it’s good fun and the tips are pretty good – well they were last time.

“You want a sandwich, Mand?”
“Please, we didn’t eat till way past my dinner time the other week.”
“There’s cheese, ham – oo, corned beef?”
“Whichever,” she allowed as she played finger hockey with her hair, mine was already in a full pretzel pinned to the back of my head.
“Corned beef then,” I decided.
“So you get the wig sorted out?” Mand asked around her mouthful of hair grips.
“Well it’s dry at least, think it’ll be okay with a proper brush.”
“Hope so, you looked mega cute.”
“Not exactly the idea,” I grumped.
“But true nevertheless.”
“You want tomato or pickle on this?”
“Tom please, we’re walking up, yeah?”
“Uh huh, Herr S will drop us back after.”

We’d barely finished the very English sliced bread sandwiches when our third over dressed member arrived. I pulled my new pink footwear on, they are comfy, shouted farewells and the three of us set off for Rech.

“Stop fiddling with your blouse, Mand,” Con suggested.
“I wasn’t,” she shot back.
“You so were,” I added.
“I still can’t get over how much boob these things give you.”
“If you need more,” I hinted.
“You’re only jealous,” Con stated.

Well maybe I am a bit jealous of Con, she’s tall, her hair does what it’s told and she lives at the bakery, I am not however jealous of her boobage, I've got quite enough, thank you.

It’s not far along to the Weinstube, we were setting tables by five thirty, this time we actually have a clue so everything was going quicker. It’s the same menu as last time of course, same menu and same programme, the only change was to the coach load we are looking after.

“Herr Sebenschuh,” the blonde hostess that was here at Christmas came in even before the bus was parked.
“Helmut please, welcome back, Fräulein Ziegler.”
“Nena and my colleague is Dennis again. Are you ready for us?”
“Sure, sure, Connie, Amanda, coats please.”
“I have to say the girls look very nice Helmut, just the ticket, eh?”
“We hope so.”
“Right then, I'll fetch the passengers.”

By the time the first passengers drifted in the door me and P were waiting with trays of schnapps and Herr S was in full ‘mein host’ mode. It was a full bus, fifty six I think it is, we’ll be kept busy that’s for sure!

“Pretty colour.”
“Sorry?”
“Your hair, it was blonde at Weihnachts no?” the hostess woman suggested as I collected shot glasses from where they’d been left by the visitors.
“Er yeah,” I agreed, “this was for prom and I'm sort of stuck with it for a bit.”
“Well it looks nice, I don’t think I could pull it off.”
“Do you and your Fahrer want coffee or beer? They’ll be a while yet.”
She switched to English to call over to her colleague, “Den? You want coffee?”

I know from Christmas she speaks good English but she has no accent, well not German, maybe Mansfield – weird.

“Wouldn’t say no,” the driver replied from where he was perusing the Stube’s photo gallery.
“Two coffee’s then please?”
“Er Gaby.”
“I'm Nena, the man mountain is Den.”

Having sorted out the coffee’s I joined my waitressing colleagues in the dining room where they were folding a last few napkins.

“For a German she speaks very good English, like a native.”
“Lots of Germans speak good English,” Pia opined, “you do quite well.”
“Har de har.”
“You do have an accent mind,” Mand put in.
“Don’t.”
“You do, definitely German,” she stated.
“Whatever, she’s got like a Mansfield accent when she speaks English.”
“Mansfield? Where you lived in England?” Pia queried.
“Nearby,” I agreed.
“Maybe she learnt English from someone from there?” Mand proposed.
“I suppose.”
“Maybe we should play spot the accent,” Mand suggested.
“Probably all Nottingham, that’s where the bus comes from,” I pointed out.
“Well mystery solved then, she’s caught the accent from the passengers,” Con stated.

The yammer of voices announced the impending return of the English and the start of our waitressing duties. I guess the mystery of Nena will have to remain just that, a mystery. We quickly distributed the missing napkins and assumed our positions ready for the onslaught.

Maddy Bell © 07.01.17