Seedling 13: Shorter Than You Expect
I camped out by the lockers and checked a few emails on my phone; shifted some money around my bank accounts - just enough busy-ness to avoid changing back into the goblin gear at the same time as Kamil. I’d had my Kamil-fill for the day, and I’d imagined he’d say the same of me.
Vassily sauntered by. ‘Checking your messages on Grindr?’
I looked up, blank-faced. This was the first time Vassily referenced either of our sexualities and it struck me as the opening salvo of some wider war. ‘No, no; not at all. Just updating my cock pics. You have a favourite?’
As I went to turn the phone to him, Vassily put up his hand in a combination of disgust and confusion. I shrugged. We’d had a couple contentious shifts together, and I thought he’d finally learned not to cross ways with me.
‘Wow, Kamil, nice trainers! You look like a superhero!’ Melody was quite effusive as Kamil exited the men’s changing room in full regalia, new Skechers, and all. He was just beginning to blush as she pulled open the glass door and rushed into the office space, muffled rounds of ‘afternoon, Melody’ spilling back out into the hallway. I half-suspected Melody’s next move would be a text to Jean asking why Kamil wasn’t wearing his plimsouls and ‘who approved this!!?’.
Vassily, shoving his manbag into a locker, looked up and then down at Kamil’s feet.
‘So, do we all get new trainers, now?’
Kamil waved him off, not bothering to make eye-contact.
‘After you are changed, I need you Paul to give me full count on Monthelie who we might need for event next week’.
“No problem’.
I grabbed my elfinwear from the locker and heard the door buzz by the landing. Mike rushed in, placing his hand on the electronic palm reader to ‘punch in’ on the virtual time card.
‘Are there three somms on the floor tonight?’
Kamil slammed his locker shut and clicked the lock into place. ‘No, is ops meeting Mondays, four p.m.’.
*
The ops meeting looked serious. Very serious. I chanced a quick few glances as I was heading down to the wine cellar. Melody was at one end of the long white conference table and Jean was at the other. In between were the two accountants, the head of HR, Mike, Diana, Omar and Hannah. Each had an agenda in front of them and a bright yellow pencil. Mike was chewing on his, head cocked to one side. Omar tapped his, nonchalantly. Hannah was using hers to pin back her hair.
The main energy seemed to be across the table; between Melody and Jean.
I felt very fortunate in that moment to be part of the stripey underlings and not management.
The Monthelie was in good stocks, eight bottles in the rack and an unopened case of six on the cellar floor. I broke in the six as we are required to do - probably something Eoin has skipped. He was the only somm on the team prone to cutting corners.
Heading to the briefing I was practically skipping up the stairs in my own new trainers. The difference was instantaneous, palpable. It probably showed in my face, ‘cause the angry American pastry chef gave me a smile as we passed each other on level two. Then, when I fobbed into the kitchen pass and entered the diningroom I sensed something was off - again.
There was no organisation of people, no semblance of form, no indication a meeting was imminent. Waitstaff was milling about by the computer station, Renee and Vera laughing, Marco comically adjusting Vassily’s apron in the role of a flamboyant fashion designer, Kamil banging numbers out on the calculator. Bar staff congregated around the end of the bar, by the somm station, loosely surrounding Erich.
Erich saw me and came over.
‘Paul, man, how’s it going’. He took my hand in his, clasping it with the other in a two-handed grip.
‘Yeah, yeah, not bad. You?’
‘Great, man, just great. Feels good. Short time for me, now’.
Being ‘short’ in New York meant you’d given notice. Is that what Erich meant?
‘What do you mean?”
“My two weeks - put ‘em in, today’.
That’s what he meant. And I didn’t know exactly how I was supposed to react. ‘Wow. Where you off to?’
I didn’t get an answer as Hannah and Mike rushed in from the pass. Hannah was manager on duty. Mike, I had no idea. He strode directly up to Erich.
‘Ok, thanks Erich. You’re free to go’.
Erich looked stunned. He looked at me. I didn’t make a move.
‘uh…what do you mean?’
Mike didn’t flinch. ‘I mean, you can go. Thank you for your work, here. Your two weeks will be paid. Good luck with everything’. And, with that, Mike turned on heel, into the bar and began organising himself for service.
Erich didn’t look exactly excited to have his two weeks paid; he looked more like a child scolded.
‘Take care, Paul,’ he said, rather meekly. Then he gave a wave to the staff gathering round Hannah for briefing. Some noticed his soft exit, some didn’t. Those who did looked slightly confused, but probably assumed he was coming back in five minutes. But, he wasn’t. I knew it. He was done.
I joined the circle of stripes and white aprons, notepad in hand. Mike joined himself, a moment later. Kamil looked up at me from across the group. He didn’t exactly mouth the words, but I could sense him asking me ‘what happened??’, in his broken English.