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One has to wonder if there is something deeply soul-destroying about working at Patisserie Valerie. I have considered it myself - working at Patisserie Valerie that is, not destroying my soul - and have always imagined that it would be a rather delightful place to earn a little bit of extra cash. Just as some men (no names mentioned!) like to surround themselves with attractive women, I quite like the thought of spending a whole day surrounded by deliciously tantalising cakes and pastries. Some of them are so beautiful that they look like they belong on plinths in an art gallery. Mostly, they look like they belong on a plate, being devoured by a very happy and satisfied person (I love it when that person is me!).
Yet, the staff at every Patisserie Valerie that I have been to behave as if they are manning some sort of barge of the dead. Their eyes appear glazed over and their gait betrays an undeniable wish to be anywhere but where they are. It's as if the very life is being sucked out of them. I would know, I've been there before! I try to make eye contact and find myself avoided, ignored - it's as if they don't want to sell the cakes. Perhaps, they are allowed to take away any leftover cakes at the end of the day...yes, that would make sense. I can imagine myself being tempted to selfishly deter customers if that were the case, in desperate need of my next sugar-fix.
Nonetheless, this sort of service really takes the fun out of treating oneself to a naughty slice of cake and cup of tea in the mid-afternoon - such 'sinful' acts should be nothing but pleasurable. Alas, the whole experience becomes so drawn out that my conscience is left with far too much time to make me feel quite guilty and I can no longer enjoy my raspberry tart without contemplating every calorie that passes my lips. And so, I have decided to mutiny! Tonight, I made my own dessert (plum crumble with extra thick cream) and did an exemplary job of serving myself. I even gave myself a second helping, just because I deserve it.
Yet, the staff at every Patisserie Valerie that I have been to behave as if they are manning some sort of barge of the dead. Their eyes appear glazed over and their gait betrays an undeniable wish to be anywhere but where they are. It's as if the very life is being sucked out of them. I would know, I've been there before! I try to make eye contact and find myself avoided, ignored - it's as if they don't want to sell the cakes. Perhaps, they are allowed to take away any leftover cakes at the end of the day...yes, that would make sense. I can imagine myself being tempted to selfishly deter customers if that were the case, in desperate need of my next sugar-fix.
Nonetheless, this sort of service really takes the fun out of treating oneself to a naughty slice of cake and cup of tea in the mid-afternoon - such 'sinful' acts should be nothing but pleasurable. Alas, the whole experience becomes so drawn out that my conscience is left with far too much time to make me feel quite guilty and I can no longer enjoy my raspberry tart without contemplating every calorie that passes my lips. And so, I have decided to mutiny! Tonight, I made my own dessert (plum crumble with extra thick cream) and did an exemplary job of serving myself. I even gave myself a second helping, just because I deserve it.
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that is so true about the staff at Patisserie Valerie...I really want to see the plum crumble you made, it sounds v. tempting!
ReplyDeleteI like that analogy. A woman surrounding herself with good food is like a man surrounding himself with attractive women. Although, I think the woman is much more dangerous. Those poor tantalizing pastries can't defend themselves when you ravage them. =P~~~
ReplyDeleteSorry but I can't hold it back, this post is one the most pathetic, self-indulgent rants I've ever had the misfortune to read.
ReplyDeleteSo, the staff at PV look miserable? Chances are they have a good reason. Having worked in this kind of places myself, I can tell you: if the staff are gloomy, most likely it's because the company treats them like s**t.
Let me set you straight on this: catering work - especially in such high-volume operations as PV - is nothing glamorous, cushy or "delightful". It's a notoriously stressful and underpaid sector which - especially in London - thrives on a continuous flow of cheap, disposable immigrants (how many brits do you see waiting tables at PV/Costa/Nero etc?). But then again, many of these people would not be doing that, if they had a chance. Many of them have degrees, masters, even PhDs. Many have come to London looking for qualified positions and then had to settle for stressful, low-wage, dead-end catering jobs because so many corporate HR managers are too f***ing near-sighted (shall we say, racist?) to realise that other countries than the UK might have good universities too. For many of them, going back to their country isn't a viable option either.
You try studying your arse off for years just to end up working 50-hours weeks on shifts, on the bounce, on your feet, for the minimum wage (quite the norm for the London catering sector), caught between a profit-crazy manager and a seemingly endless line-up of demanding customers. Let's see how cheerful you'll look then.
Or maybe next time just try TALKING to one of those miserable glazed-eyed wraiths who "take the fun out of your sinful treats". You might not get your cake pronto, but you might learn something.
Andrea
Hi Andrea,
ReplyDeleteThanks for writing. You make some very good points and have definitely made look at the situation in a different way.
Best wishes,
Fran