I was thrown into a hostile environment of fridges, expiry labels, health & safety neurosis and kitchen shouts. The first weeks were painful. I enlisted a bizarre army of fools that wanted to feed a hungry nation at any cost through silly steps of service.

Talking to customers felt awkward, like listening my own voice from a recorder. I’d often look at my figure in the mirror wearing that ridiculously small hat and asked myself, how the hell did I end up a deli assistant? However, I was determined to prove that I could do something that was so far from my comfort zone. Funny enough, working in a freak show with a stupid smile on my face started to amuse me at some point. What they expected of me was beyond ridiculous - team work with just one member.

I suffered like a fish out of water, but I made it somehow and that made me believe I could do anything I wanted.

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When I finally started to get used to the hard deli routine I somehow began to feel more at ease with my doomed hospitality future. A fake pride of having outlived the hardship of a job that wasn't me