Chef
When I was 14 I got my first job. I got hired as a kitchen help, so my work consisted of doing the dishes while the restaurant was serving and scrubbing the floors and cleaning the fridge when the kitchen was closed.

At the age of 14 I was still a relatively innocent boy. Suffice it to say little Askew hadn't enjoyed the company of anybody aside from yours truly's right hand. I had also been raised by my mum alone, so I was pretty respectful of women and girls in general.

I showed up for work the first day and was shown to the kitchen, where I met my boss. A man I would only come to know as 'Chef'. 'Chef' was the sort that seemed to prey on corrupting the minds of the young kitchen helps he employed. And he took a particular shine to me., with my innocent blue eyes and hair of blonde.

Anyway, he soon realised that my experience with the fairer sex was non-existent. So the first question upon entering the kitchen would always be: "Did you have a fucking shag yet, or what?" The mood would be set for the rest of the night.

'Chef' delighted in regailing his stories about his wholly inadequate wife. As a woman, she was a complete and utter failure. She couldn't cook. She couldn't clean. She couldn't do anything basically. He was staying with her because apparently, she "can suck a watermelon through a garden hose"

I should include at this point, that if I didn't laugh at his mysogynist and sexist jokes, he would look at me and threaten to make me stay and scrub the floor until he could see his face in it. Knowing that he wasn't fucking kidding, I squeezed out a smile everytime.

I could go into more detail about how he made my working life there miserable, but I think I painted a good picture of what this guy was like by now.

Length? He wouldn't stop talking about it.
(Askew, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 19:29, Reply)