Never Forget What Makes You Happy

    It’s really easy to forget why you start doing something you love. In the beginning it’s all rainbows and butterflies, things just couldn’t go wrong. The sun is always shining and the birds are always singing. But then reality sinks in and what you love suddenly becomes something you loathe and can’t wait to get away from. It’s no different working in the kitchen. The first week or so on board couldn’t have been more magical. Everything was brand new and waiting to be discovered. By the end of the second week, though, everything became familiar and very gray. And then yesterday I felt it.

 

    I woke up at 7 am just as I do every day, but it was different. I hit the “Shut the hell up” button on my phone and stared at my ceiling for a solid ten minutes before every so gracefully falling down the three rungs of my bunk bed ladder to be greeted by my work clothes waiting for me on the chair sitting next to my dresser. I showered, brushed my teeth, shaved and got dressed and I knew; today I did not want to go to work. How horrible of a feeling to not want to go to work. To feel too tired, too stressed, too much of everything to put on your shoes and go face the day. To not want to do something that once made you so elated and now just makes you want to crawl in to bed and slip in to a temporary coma and not wake up until someone finds you a new job somewhere else away from all of these people. Yet somehow, I made it up to the fourth floor and started my day peeling and peeling, and chopping and chopping, and mincing and staring off into space wondering what fresh air smells like.  Break time. Nap time. Lather, rinse, repeat.

 

   Around 7:45, the tail end of first dinner seating, I was walking to the dish pit when the executive sous chef, Sergio, came up to me and said in a hurry, “Do you have a black apron?”. I answered simply, “Yes.” And pointed to the apron I was already wearing. “Perfect!” he said, took me by the hand and lead me to the doors of the Grand Epernay where all the customers come to eat dinner. There was music blaring and I could feel the bass in my chest like an external heart beat. A rhythmic clapping and lots of shouts and whistles joined the thumping; it sounded like a party.  Sergio turned to me and said, “Just remember to smile.” I started to ask him what was going on but before I could get the words of my mouth he winked at me, opened the double doors to the Grand Epernay and shoved me into the ruckus.

 

   I had no idea what was going on.  Everyone was on their feet. Black Eyed Peas was playing at a decibel I didn’t know was possible. Customers were waving their napkins around in the air. Strobe lights were going off and a DJ was announcing the arrival of the kitchen crew.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the stars of your dinner show tonight, the Galley staff lead by Head Executive Chef Javier Carabe!” My head chef came out from behind a podium on the other side of the dining room and started jumping up and down, pumping his fist in the air and encouraging all the guests to scream even louder. Next the executive sous chef did the same, followed by the head Pantry chef, the Sous Chef, the Pastry, the Bakery Chef and even the Crew Mess Chef.  “And lets not forget the amazing team behind these incredible leaders, “ continued the DJ  “the dedicated crew that makes all of this possible, your galley crew!” All of a sudden a rush of 1^st cooks, 2^nd cooks, Chef de Partie and numerous other galley crewmen rushed the stage jumping up and down. They were all laughing and having a good time. I couldn’t help but smile along with them.

    “What are you doing! Go on the stage!” said one of my fellow cooks on the line with me, grabbing my hand and running towards the stage. We climbed on the stage and started laughing and playfully shoving each other around and being silly to entertain the guests. For a few minutes I forgot about how much I hated work and everything that came along with it. I forgot about how much prep I had to do. I forgot how many carrots I had to peel. I forgot about how many plates I had to serve. I just enjoyed being happy with everyone on that stage.

 

    When the music stopped playing the DJ asked the crowd if they enjoyed their dinners on board the ship they produced a deafening roar. I looked around at all the guests and they were smiling and applauding. They were genuinely happy. At the end of it all we all went back in to the kitchen. My chef came over and put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Never forget what makes you happy.” and walked away.  The whole reason I started cooking is because it’s a way to achieve a person-to-person connection that breaches all barriers. Food is an expression of love that warms the heart and soul. I had forgotten why I started cooking, what made me happy. Seeing all the guests exuding the kind of love and appreciation reminded me why  I was here. Never forget what makes you happy.