As all "real" blogs from now on we too have our guest blogger : Tess Key, a young swedish lady living in Turin. She will tell us about her personal interpretation of Italian lifestyle.
Writing about my ”nanny” days I remembered the second job I got in Milan. Beeing a high-maintance girl the weekly 50 euro I got from the family ( honestly....50 euro as ”pocketmoney”, what kind of insane, unbalanced freak thought that could EVER be enough in a city like Milano?) wasn’t even enough to buy my weekly pizza slices.
So one night I talked to the owner of a restaurant where my new italian friend worked as a pizzaman, who new a guy, who new another guy who had just opened a new bar in C.so Como, and happens the case, they needed a waitress.
So boys and girls, this is where I got my FIRST waitress job. At this point this was all the italian I knew after one month in Milano:
- Buongiorno, voglio delle pesche
- Non mi interessa
- Lasciami in pace
- Si va bene 1 kg
So, I had quite some difficulties understanding when the italian clients said in a very fast italian:
Client :-Un mojito per me, ma con poco ghiaccio eh, e per lei un daiquiri frozen con le fragole. Ma lo fate con le fragole fresce?
Tess: - ???????
Client:- Fragole fresce, le avete?
Tess:- ????, ehh siii, va bene, ok. ( PANIC, what the hell does he want????Well I just look as if everythig is under control and just smile)
Same night a client asks for a pina colada ( ok ok, this is easy I thought. Pina colada I get, that’s international and he didn’t say alot of strange words afterwards)
Now this bar made the taaaaaallest pina coladas in the world and Tess had the whitest, tiny winy little t-shirt on. I was so nervous about dropping or making the glass tip going down the stairs, that obviously, when I finally got to the table the glass started to wingle..a bit..then some more.....and in a shriek trying to save the clients clothes I managed to tip the glass all over myself.
I smelled like fucking pineapples and coco milk for three days, AND I had to keep working for another 4 hours with a t-shirt that looked as if I had just left a ”Miss wet t-shirt competition”, and won.
That’s how I learned that I should always wear black when working as a waitress....