It
was just a part time job really, something to earn a bit of extra money and why
not. During the day in the office, taking phone calls, typing letters and
filing. Nothing special, but being alone as a secretary there was a certain
amount of responsibility. The boss was often abroad on business and home was
not far. Actually it was just across the corridor. Your own room, your own
bathroom and even access to an outside garden in the courtyard. Life could not
be better. Food was cooked by my bosses wife, and I had family connections.
They owned the appartment house and had their own large appartment.
The
boss also had a restaurent. An Indian restaurent cooking specialities for the
customers. It was only open in the evening. It was a small team. The boss organising
and his wife cooking and serving, that was until I was asked “How about some
extra money serving in the evening.” It was just fifteen tables approximately
(it all happened so long ago, I cannot remember exactly) and I would be earning
service tips and a small wage. Being new in the area, and not having a
concentrated social life, I accepted.
The
customers were regular, many were Indians at last finding their accumstomed
food in a small Zürich side street. My knowledge of German was quite basic at
the time, but I could get through. It was an advantage being able to speak
English to the Indian guests. We even had Ambassadors as customers, and were
featured in culinary magazines as the Indian Restaurant in Zürich to visit. I
even sometimes wore a sari as I got very much adapted to the Indian way of life
and its food.
Cooking
and serving Indian food of course needed special ingredients from special
suppliers. Zürich not being the center of the Asian spice market, the boss
often brought and ordered his special spices from London. He often returned
from a visit to England with a case packed full of aramatic herbs, spices,
leaves and seeds. I do not know how he managed to get it through customs, but
then I realised quickly that my boss could organise a lot of things that other
straight forward businessmen could not. However, if you do not ask questions,
you get no lies.
One
day I departed for a two week holiday to see my parents in London. It was
Summer, not a busy time in the business or restaurant world. My boss was also
on a long business journey in the Far East so I could be spared and the
restaurant was closed for the two weeks when I was away.
I
returned after my holiday and it seems that the restaurant would be closed for
some time. We would usually close the restaurant in the evening around eleven
o’clock and the last action in the kitchen was to switch the dish washer on,
leaving it to run for a washing programme which would switch itself off
automatically. The first job after arriving the next day was to empty the
machine with the clean crockery and cutlery. However, during my holiday it
seems that during last evening the machine was running and the pipe with the
water supply broke, meaning that liters of water were pumping into the
restaurant during the night. My boss’s wife was called by the fire and police
service early in the morning to say that water had flooded the cellars
completely and the restaurant as well.
I
was back in my office in Zürich and my boss returned from his trip abroad. Of
course the restaurant was closed and there was a backwards and forwards with
the insurance company, who eventually cancelled their contract and it was
decided that the restaurant would be closed forever. However there was a small
problem. The cellars had to be cleared. Of course the water had receeded and
things in the cellar started to smell.
“You
will have to help us” said my boss. He never really asked for anything, just
commanded. I was used to it, so what was the problem?
“We
have a sack full of dill in the cellar and after being submerged in water for a
time, we have to throw it out. It has perished. You know what dill is?. It is a
plant that grows and used generally for spicing fish and cucumber dishes. The
leaves are often dried to keep longer. This was also the case with our sack of
dill, but it had got wet again, very wet.
“Ok,
no problem I thought” and my boss, his wife and I went to the restaurant in the
evening to clear the cellar. Of course it smelt a bit strong, but I have smelt
worse.
“That
is the sack” said my boss, “just lift it and carry it out of the cellar to the
bottom of the stairs, I will help you to carry it up the stairs.” He
disappeared and left me to the work. It was quite dark in the cellar, the
lights still did not function and everything smelt quite damp.
I
am not really sqeamish. I have my own garden today and it never bothered me if
there were slugs or spiders. The slugs I pick up and throw out of the garden by
hand: no problem. I don’t mind spiders. They live in their webs and every living
thing has a purpose somehow. Where there are spiders there is usually a reduced
population of flies. But what I found in the cellar was beyond my wildest
expectations.
First
of all something brushed past my face. In the dim light we had from the cellar
window I saw a winged insect. OK, winged insects are everywhere – no problem.
Then I saw a second winged insect, actually I gave up counting. Gripping the
sack a cloud of winged insects arose from the contents. Winged insects have
children and not a few. They have sort of multiple births. How a mother can
love a child that sqirms and twists and sleeks and glistens white in the dark I
do not know. These winged insects had decided to maintain their future
generations by laying their eggs on the rotting dill to be found in the sack.
It seemed to be a five star menu for the hatching eggs. Let us call the
children “maggots”. Now if there is a creature that I dislike, detest, makes me
squirm and cause me to scream and panic, cry and have a hysterical fit, then it
is maggots.
“What
is wrong” and my chef came running, followed by his wife.
By
then I had tears in my eyes and my voice was quivering. I must have shocked the
children of the winged insects as the sack seemed to have developed its own
life, rustling and forming lumps and bumps everywhere.
“Let
me out, no, I am not touching that living mass of white. No, never.”
I
must have left an impact on the chef and his wife as they tried to comfort me
and said “it is OK, we did not realise you were so afraid of insects.”
What
a stupid remark to make. They were not just insects, they were a thriving mass
of moving eating mini monsters. I am sure if there had been enough light in the
cellar I would have seen their eyes all turned in my direction.
That
evening the cellar invasion was removed by my boss and his wife. I do not know
where they put the sack. I did not care. As far as I was concerned they could
have lit a bonfire with it. I think actually it was put on the side of the
street for the rubbish collection the next day. I did not ask qustions and did
not really want any explanations.
Do
I have to say more, about the disturbing dreams I had that night and a few
nights afterwards. I still spice my cucumber salad with dill and my smoked
salmon in a graved lax sauce. I even grow dill in the garden, but I keep it
insect free. I still do not know the name of the flying maggot producing
objects, perhaps "Big Maggot is Watching You".
They can be a little stomach-tuning if you come across them unexpectedly, particularly in large numbers. I'm not particularly bothered by them myself, having handled them lots of times in my younger days as an angler.
ReplyDeleteI guess this prompt was based on 'Room 101' as mentioned in Orwell's 1984. A classic novel I read several times.
I am exactly like you as far as the revolting things are concerned. I have heard they have been used to keep wounds clean during the wars etc...But;
ReplyDeleteGreat post Pat and yes, I did laugh.