Hey There, Readers.
It's Uniform Day.
I HATE uniform day. I hate it with all the fire of Hades.
Second-years assignment for the day was to find a uniform of two chef jackets, two pair of checked pants, two aprons and two hats for each first-year student.
There are approximately fifty students in C-shift, five of which are second-years.
We had a few minutes to go through some of the uniforms before the first string of students. We then had to take them one at a time, and decide what size pants and jacket they would fit into best. This process consists of passing out various sized dingy-checked pants (that may or may not be clean) for them to try on the in the locker room. Some of these pants were given looks of contempt, to which we answer that although we wish that we had a veritable wardrobe filled with the most fashionable foodie frocks, we don't, and this is NOT a Catwalk.
Altogether, we are the Motley Crew of Culinary; dressed in ill-fitting, badly-stained jacket and a pair of dilapidated, once hounds-tooth pants that are either three inches too short, or being held in place only by their grease-besmirched apron.
It was possibly one of the longest hours-and-a-half of my life.
Everyone got their uniforms, but it took ALL of class time.
Glad this day is over, and it's the weekend.
