A Ride in the Oven
When I was 15 (15 years ago) I worked at a bagel bakery attached to an upscale resturaunt and hotel. I did everything you could immagine while I worked there. Cleaning rooms, remodeling basements, baking bagels, prepping food for our “chef”. One of the initaition rituals that chef Ricardo liked to impose was a ride in the oven. At the end of the day when the oven had cooled to below 200 degrees he would make me get inside. The oven was a huge six decked beast that would rotate the decks. I would have to take a ride all the way around. He would tell me that if I didn’t do what he said he would suspend my paycheck, or tell my parents I was molesting the food. He also liked to make me mix bleach and windex in the little mop closet at the back of the shop. Those 2 chemicals react with a toxic cloud that can kill. Locking me in the walk-in for most of my shift was another favorite. The final straw was placed upon my stupid camel back when Ricky told me to wash the dishes. He said “I ran a sink of suds. There’s a stack of plates in there and I need them on the fly” When you pull a stack of plates out you plunge your hands to the bottom of the sink and make a big grabbing motion. I did that and found out the Ricardo had pranked me once again. Instead of a stack of plates, it was all the kitchen knives. I saw red. I tried to strangle him with my mangled hands and screamed “I GOT AIDS! I GOT AIDS!” Ricardo left that night and never worked in a kitchen again I’m pretty sure the owner, a nefarious gangster type guy put the boots to him. Eventually my hands healed up, and I found a kitchen where people don’t try to kill each other, although I’m still pretty bitter about that sadist chef Ricardo.