Oh. Dear. God. Somebody please make this week end. When I decided to take on a job helping to organize guest chefs for the fabulous New York Culinary Experience event, I thought, “How bad could it be?” That should have been my first clue. From now on, I will only take on jobs where I’m filled with anxiety and trepidation from the mere mention of the opportunity.
So far, I’ve gotten yelled out 3 times by 3 separate guest chefs, all for different reasons. My coworkers warned me that this would happen as the event drew near (it’s this weekend), but I thought, “No way! Couldn’t happen! Not to me!” Well… obviously I seem to have some sort of reasoning disability. My coworkers keep reminding me that these chefs aren’t yelling at me specifically, that they’re just venting their frustrations and stress. That’s grrreat. You know what, though? No matter what anyone tells you, getting yelled at just isn’t fun. This is like when my mom told me, “Mindy, someday when you go to give birth, the doctors will tell you that contractions are a good pain. That’s a lie. Pain is pain. It’s not good.”
So consider this week 7 days of labor after a particularly difficult pregnancy. Hopefully, at the end of it, I will have given birth to a beautiful event.