The PATRON had engaged me as kitchen PLONGEUR; that is, my job was to wash up, keep the kitchen clean, prepare vegetables, make tea, coffee and sandwiches, do the simpler cooking, and run errands. The terms were, as usual, five hundred francs a month and food, but I had no free day and no fixed1 working hours. At the Hotel X I had seen catering2 at its best, with unlimited3 money and good organization. Now, at the Auberge, I learned how things are done in a thoroughly4 bad restaurant. It is worth describing, for there are hundreds of similar restaurants in Paris, and every visitor feeds in one of them occasionally.
I should add, by the way, that the Auberge was not the ordinary cheap eating-house frequented by students and workmen. We did not provide an adequate meal at less than twenty-five francs, and we were picturesque5 and artistic6, which sent up our social standing7. There were the indecent pictures in the bar, and the Norman decorations — sham8 beams on the walls, electric lights done up as candlesticks, ‘peasant’ pottery9, even a mounting-block at the door — and the PATRON and the head waiter were Russian officers, and many of the customers tided Russian refugees. In short, we were decidedly chic10.
Nevertheless, the conditions behind the kitchen door were suitable for a pigsty11. For this is what our service arrangements were like.
The kitchen measured fifteen feet long by eight broad, and half this space was taken up by the stoves and tables. All the pots had to be kept on shelves out of reach, and there was only room for one dustbin. This dustbin used to be crammed12 full by midday, and the floor was normally an inch deep in a compost of trampled13 food.
For firing we had nothing but three gas-stoves, without ovens, and all joints14 had to be sent out to the bakery.
There was no larder15. Our substitute for one was a half-roofed shed in the yard, with a tree growing in the middle of it. The meat, vegetables and so forth16 lay there on the bare earth, raided by rats and cats.
There was no hot water laid on. Water for washing up had to be heated in pans, and, as there was no room for these on the stoves when meals were cooking, most of the plates had to be washed in cold water. This, with soft soap and the hard Paris water, meant scraping the grease off with bits of newspaper.
We were so short of saucepans that I had to wash each one as soon as it was done with, instead of leaving them till the evening. This alone wasted probably an hour a day.
Owing to some scamping of expense in the installation, the electric light usually fused at eight in the evening. The PATRON would only allow us three candles in the kitchen, and the cook said three were unlucky, so we had only two.
Our coffee-grinder was borrowed from a BISTRO near by, and our dustbin and brooms from the concierge17. After the first week a quantity of linen18 did not come back from the wash, as the bill was not paid. We were in trouble with the inspector19 of labour, who had discovered that the staff included no Frenchmen; he had several private interviews with the PATRON, who, I believe, was obliged to bribe20 him. The electric company was still dunning us, and when the duns found that we would buy them off with APERITIFS21, they came every morning. We were in debt at the grocery, and credit would have been stopped, only the grocer’s wife (a moustachio’d woman of sixty) had taken a fancy to Jules, who was sent every morning to cajole her. Similarly I had to waste an hour every day haggling22 over vegetables in the rue23 du Commerce, to save a few centimes.
These are the results of starting a restaurant on insufficient24 capital. And in these conditions the cook and I were expected to serve thirty or forty meals a day, and would later on be serving a hundred. From the first day it was too much for us. The cook’s working hours were from eight in the morning till midnight, and mine from seven in the morning till half past twelve the next morning — seventeen and a half hours, almost without a break. We never had time to sit down till five in the afternoon, and even then there was no seat except the top of the dustbin. Boris, who lived near by and had not to catch the last Metro25 home, worked from eight in the morning till two the next morning — eighteen hours a day, seven days a week. Such hours, though not usual, are nothing extraordinary in Paris.
Life settled at once into a routine that made the Hotel X seem like a holiday. Every morning at six I drove myself out of bed, did not shave, sometimes washed, hurried up to the Place d’ltalie and fought for a place on the Metro. By seven I was in the desolation of the cold, filthy26 kitchen, with the potato skins and bones and fishtails littered on the floor, and a pile of plates, stuck together in their grease, waiting from overnight. I could not start on the plates yet, because the water was cold, and I had to fetch milk and make coffee, for the others arrived at eight and expected to find coffee ready. Also, there were always several copper27 saucepans to clean. Those copper saucepans are the bane of a PLONGEUR’S life. They have to be scoured28 with sand and bunches of chain, ten minutes to each one, and then polished on the outside with Brasso. Fortunately, the art of making them has been lost and they are gradually vanishing from French kitchens, though one can still buy them second-hand29.
When I had begun on the plates the cook would take me away from the plates to begin skinning onions, and when I had begun on the onions the PATRON would arrive and send me out to buy cabbages. When I came back with the cabbages the PATRON’S wife would tell me to go to some shop half a mile away and buy a pot of rouge30; by the time I came back there would be more vegetables waiting, and the plates were still not done. In this way our incompetence31 piled one job on another throughout the day, everything in arrears32.
Till ten, things went comparatively easily, though we were working fast, and no one lost his temper. The cook would find time to talk about her artistic nature, and say did I not think Tolstoy was EPATANT, and sing in a fine soprano voice as she minced33 beef on the board. But at ten the waiters began clamouring for their lunch, which they had early, and at eleven the first customers would be arriving. Suddenly everything became hurry and bad temper. There was not the same furious rushing and yelling as at the Hotel X, but an atmosphere of muddle34, petty spite and exasperation35. Discomfort36 was at the bottom of it. It was unbearably37 cramped38 in the kitchen, and dishes had to be put on the floor, and one had to be thinking constantly about not stepping on them. The cook’s vast buttocks banged against me as she moved to and fro. A ceaseless, nagging39 chorus of orders streamed from her:
‘Unspeakable idiot! How many times have I told you not to bleed the beetroots? Quick, let me get to the sink! Put those knives away; get on with the potatoes. What have you done with my strainer? Oh, leave those potatoes alone. Didn’t I tell you to skim the BOUILLON? Take that can of water off the stove. Never mind the washing up, chop this celery. No, not like that, you fool, like this. There! Look at you letting those peas boil over! Now get to work and scale these herrings. Look, do you call this plate clean? Wipe it on your apron40. Put that salad on the floor. That’s right, put it where I’m bound to step in it! Look out, that pot’s boiling over! Get me down that saucepan. No, the other one. Put this on the grill41. Throw those potatoes away. Don’t waste time, throw them on the floor. Tread them in. Now throw down some sawdust; this Hoor’s like a skating-rink. Look, you fool, that steak’s burning! MON DIEU, why did they send me an idiot for a PLONGEUR? Who are you talking to? Do you realize that my aunt was a Russian countess?’ etc. etc. etc.
This went on till three o’clock without much variation, except that about eleven the cook usually had a CRISE DE NERFS and a flood of tears. From three to five was a fairly slack time for the waiters, but the cook was still busy, and I was working my fastest, for there was a pile of dirty plates waiting, and it was a race to get them done, or partly done, before dinner began. The washing up was doubled by the primitive42 conditions — a cramped draining-board, tepid43 water, sodden44 cloths, and a sink that got blocked once in an hour. By five the cook and I were feeling unsteady on our feet, not having eaten or sat down since seven. We used to collapse45, she on the dustbin and I on the floor, drink a bottle of beer, and apologize for some of the things we had said in the morning. Tea was what kept us going. We took care to have a pot always stewing46, and drank pints47 during the day.
At half-past five the hurry and quarrelling began again, and now worse than before, because everyone was tired out. The cook had a CRISE DE NERFS at six and another at nine; they came on so regularly that one could have told the time by them. She would flop48 down on the dustbin, begin weeping hysterically49, and cry out that never, no, never had she thought to come to such a life as this; her nerves would not stand it; she had studied music at Vienna; she had a bedridden husband to support, etc. etc. At another time one would have been sorry for her, but, tired as we all were, her whimpering voice merely infuriated us. Jules used to stand in the doorway50 and mimic51 her weeping. The PATRON’S wife nagged52, and Boris and Jules quarrelled all day, because Jules shirked his work, and Boris, as head waiter, claimed the larger share of the tips. Only the second day after the restaurant opened, they came to blows in the kitchen over a two-franc tip, and the cook and I had to separate them. The only person who never forgot Us manners was the PATRON. He kept the same hours as the rest of us, but he had no work to do, for it was his wife who really managed things. His sole job, besides ordering the supplies, was to stand in the bar smoking cigarettes and looking gentlemanly, and he did that to perfection.
The cook and I generally found time to eat our dinner between ten and eleven o’clock. At midnight the cook would steal a packet of food for her husband, stow it under her clothes, and make off, whimpering that these hours would kill her and she would give notice in the morning. Jules also left at midnight, usually after a dispute with Boris, who had to look after the bar till two. Between twelve and half past I did what I could to finish the washing up. There was no time to attempt doing the work properly, and I used simply to rub the grease off the plates with table-napkins. As for the dirt on the floor, I let it lie, or swept the worst of it out of sight under the stoves.
At half past twelve I would put on my coat and hurry out. The PATRON, bland53 as ever, would stop me as I went down the alley-way past the bar. ‘MAIS, MON CHER MONSIEUR, how tired you look! Please do me the favour of accepting this glass of brandy.’
He would hand me the glass of brandy as courteously54 as though I had been a Russian duke instead of a PLONGEUR. He treated all of us like this. It was our compensation for working seventeen hours a day.
As a rule the last Metro was almost empty — a great advantage, for one could sit down and sleep for a quarter of an hour. Generally I was in bed by half past one. Sometimes I missed the train and had to sleep on the floor of the restaurant, but it hardly mattered, for I could have slept on cobblestones at that time.
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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catering
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| n. 给养 | |
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unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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pottery
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| n.陶器，陶器场 | |
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chic
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| n./adj.别致(的)，时髦(的)，讲究的 | |
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pigsty
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| n.猪圈，脏房间 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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concierge
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| n.管理员；门房 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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aperitifs
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| n.（饭前饮用的）开胃酒( aperitif的名词复数 ) | |
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haggling
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| v.讨价还价( haggle的现在分词 ) | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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metro
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| n.地铁；adj.大都市的；(METRO)麦德隆(财富500强公司之一总部所在地德国，主要经营零售) | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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scoured
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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incompetence
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| n.不胜任，不称职 | |
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arrears
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| n.到期未付之债，拖欠的款项；待做的工作 | |
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minced
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| v.切碎( mince的过去式和过去分词 )；剁碎；绞碎；用绞肉机绞（食物，尤指肉） | |
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muddle
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| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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unbearably
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| adv.不能忍受地，无法容忍地；慌 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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39
nagging
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| adj.唠叨的，挑剔的；使人不得安宁的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的现在分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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grill
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| n.烤架，铁格子，烤肉；v.烧，烤，严加盘问 | |
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42
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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tepid
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| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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45
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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46
stewing
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| 炖 | |
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pints
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| n.品脱( pint的名词复数 )；一品脱啤酒 | |
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48
flop
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| n.失败(者)，扑通一声；vi.笨重地行动，沉重地落下 | |
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49
hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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50
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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51
mimic
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| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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52
nagged
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| adj.经常遭责怪的；被压制的；感到厌烦的；被激怒的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的过去式和过去分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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53
bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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54
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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