I’m sure you’ve heard the term “breaking a horse”. Well, I feel a horse some days at the three-star Michelin restaurant where I’m an intern. The work, the hours, the yelling, the responsibility. All of those things pile up until I’m just about ready to crack. I feel like my spirit is being broken the longer I’m here. Most days I just want to quit. I want to throw in the proverbial torchon (towel) and tell them I’m through. I’ve worked too hard and I value my sanity and life too much to take this. Yet each day, I get out of bed, pull on some clothes and head bleary-eyed to the metro for another day. So what is it that keeps me going?

I guess I don’t want to be a quitter. Not with this. I’ve had other jobs that were less stressful and when I’ve gotten frustrated with them, I’ve quit and found something else. But I don’t feel like I can do that here. Perhaps I want to prove to the chefs in the kitchen that I am strong enough. Or maybe I have to prove to myself I can take the heat.

This week I broke down twice. Valentine’s Day was a complete nightmare because we were overbooked for both services. Orders weren’t being completed fast enough, we ran out of items on the menu, and yelling reached its high point. On Friday, I lost my cool again. Now that the person I work with has trained me so well, most of the responsibility for the station falls on me. That means most of the mis en place is now my job – something that’s not possible for someone like me. I still don’t work as fast as everyone else, so I can’t get everything done in the time provided. That meant I had to skip lunch and could take a break because nothing was ready. It doesn’t help either that half the time the person I work with is high.

Just before the lunch service began, I’d had enough. I was trying my best to hide the tears because I don’t want them to think I’m weak. But it’s hard to hide in a kitchen that small and in no time, everyone knew I was crying. One of the executive chefs chased me downstairs into the dishwashing room where I was trying to disappear. He was genuinely concerned and kept asking what was wrong while I was sobbing. I said I was just stressed out and exhausted. He put his hand on my shoulder and said he understood. “C’est normal” he said. It’s normal.

Since I only have three weeks left, I’ve asked if I can work at another station. But because we’re rather short handed in terms of staff, there’s no one to take my place. I’m getting a little bored with amuse bouche and want to try something different. When I’m preparing my mis en place or plating a dish, I’m just going through the motions. And who wants to eat something prepared by someone who really doesn’t give a damn? I wouldn’t.

I don’t like the person I’ve become lately. Because I feel like my spirit is breaking, I’m not performing at my best. I’ve never been one to give 50% - I’m a 110% or nothing kind of girl. But because I don’t have enough time to do things well, I cut corners. It makes me sad because I wouldn’t serve food like this to the people I care about. When there’s shouting and people are scurrying around pushing everyone else out of the way, my ability to care just drifts away. I don’t like this. It’s not what I’m about. But being part of this team, it’s not about me. It’s about THE Chef, and when his reputation is on the line, we become faceless servants pushing plate after plate out the door.

It amazes me how THE Chef became so successful by treating people like dirt. I always thought it was the good guys who succeed. People who motivated their teams to perform well were the ones that got ahead in my mind. I have serious doubts that THE Chef cares for the well being of his employees. Even though he works there every single day, he still doesn’t know half of our names or anything about us. It’s a good lesson about what not to be.

I hate to be so negative in my blog entries, but I’m trying to give a realistic picture of what life in a French kitchen is really like. And not all days are bad. There are some times when orders are nicely spaced and the past is quick, but everything runs smoothly. I enjoy those days, but unfortunately they are far and few between.

I know I only have three weeks left. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m sprinting as fast as I can toward it. Yes, I’ll probably break down a few more times until the end, and I guess I have to be strong enough to accept that fact. It’s part of who I am even though I may not like it. But I won’t let them break my spirit. I’ll just have to pretend I’m the horse that can’t be broken and whose spirit will always run free.

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