Mortification

mor⋅ti⋅fi⋅ca⋅tion - /ˌmɔrtəfɪˈkeɪʃən/ –noun:
A feeling of humiliation or shame, as through some injury to one's pride or self-respect.

So it happened. I did something really really wrong. Well okay, to be honest, I did a few things really really wrong. At least I lasted until the afternoon of my third day before screwing up. At least.

Our chef at Ferrandi was always telling us to never sit around and watch milk boil; there's always something else to do in the kitchen. Usually I pride myself on being able to multitask pretty well, but maybe the stress of a new environment and fatigue was catching up. So, I was asked to make a chocolate sauce for profiteroles. Pretty simple. Milk + glucose + chocolate. Voila. Well, taking chef's advice while my milk was boiling, I went to quickly do some dishes. A few seconds later another pastry cook runs in telling me to go get my milk, as it had boiled over. Ugh. I had to redo it.

My nerves already frazzled, I remeasured all the ingredients and put the milk to boil again. This time as I was prepping my chocolate, another stagiaire splashed some raspberry coulis on my hand... and I was temporarily distracted... and hear a different pastry cook yelling, "THE MILK!! THE MILK!!". NOT AGAIN. Thank god he lifted the pot as it barely boiled over. But it was too late. Our pastry chef looks at me and sternly says, "Thats the second time, Diana... the SECOND TIME."

Okay, so no screaming, but at this point I was feeling completely shitacular. To make matters even worse, someone left a huge hobart mixer bowl full of crap in the middle of the aisle next to a sink where it should NOT have been. Guess who ran smack right into it? Guess?!? I should have moved it... that was the thought that ran through my mind a split-second before the pile of crap teetered and crashed all over the floor. Not even a second later CM comes out of his office yelling in French "What is this f*cking catastrophe?!?!". Sadly, its name is Diana. Mortified, I stood frozen as my nice coworkers ran to my aid.

It could be worse I suppose. And as my friend and fellow Ferrandi alumni Joan says, "Its ok, cuz you know if you spill stuff now.. then later the chef will be like omg you improved! You are amazing. I'll remember u as the girl that spilled everything but came out a superstar!". Yeah... in my wildest dreams. Thanks for making me feel better though Joan! Well, on an upside, I have Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off to nurse my wounds and rest my tired feet.