Updated: Sep 3, 2018
The meat slicer was the queen of the deli, I hate her and I always will. It was a heavy piece of iron with a killer blade that was placed right behind the cold counter, next to the scale and above the fridges, like a huge weapon in a battle field. I later came to realize how old and poorly sharpened it was.
The cured meat rolls were placed in a metallic grid inside the cold counter, with their unhealthy grease smashed against the glass like a pile of dead arms in a morgue. Each shift the deli assistant would remove the cling film from the salamis and prosciutto and cut the first slice of it so they’d look fresh and appealing to the eyes of customers. I didn’t need to be strong to cut perfect slices of meat, I only required a sharpen blade and a tray that would hold the meat properly and didn’t miss any parts. In the absence of these things I met hours of despair and anger. I also found unexpected ways to explain why my bresaola slices looked like they had been chewed by a dog.