We're at the end of our third week in culinary school and the politics have now started to creep into the classroom and kitchen. Somebody is not happy with somebody over something somebody else commented. A formal complaint has also been filed against 'Gordon' and the school will have to deal with it. The protaganist is going round the class to find out who's on his side vs Gordon.
I was roughly aware of what had been going on the past week and had a vague sense of some politics brewing but did not bother to fully understand the entire situation. My mind is filled with how long a julienne is and how to pronounce brunoise and being able to name the different parts of a chef's knife. I am also mentally rehearsing some of the dishes we have been taught but I haven't had a chance to practise because of exams this week. Oh, also, I'm deciding between being an annoying top student or a silent achiever.
So Mr Protaganist comes up to me to suss me out on whose side I'm on. He does not know I have neither the interest, inclination, talent nor time for politics, gossip or complaints of any form, shape or size. I don't give any approving nod so as not to urge him on, neither do I disagree so he does not need to persuade. At the end of his pitch, I smiled as sweetly as I possibly can at this age, whispered a quick prayer for him and went my way, remembering why I left the corporate life behind.