greekfamilyminimarket

My summer working in the family business on Corfu

Lettuces and Cucumbers

Well, it was only a question of time – a physical scrap has ensued with one of my in laws. I’ll let you guess which one by the tone of this following conversation –

(I do apologise if you’re only just logging on to this blog, as this one is a bit of a doozy – bear on, and read back, if you need context….)

IN LAW – “Looby, so pretty today, come here, one moment, please cheat the till, beautiful, you are shining…”

ME – “No, In Law, I won’t cheat the till, apart from anything because that till is so old, you can’t cheat the till”

IN LAW – “Yes, I know, but please cheat it… This is your colour! So nice, Angelo is so lovely boy…”

ME – “You’re not listening to me – you never do – I can’t cheat the till, apart from the fact I don’t want to and it’s not right, you won’t pay for a new till to cheat, that till must be twenty five years old…”

IN LAW – (Smiling ridiculously) “I know, I know, Just do it, for me, for your family…”

ME – (Exploding) “YOU ARE NOT LISTENING. THE TILL CAN’T BE CHEATED BECAUSE YOU WON’T PAY FOR ONE TO BE CHEATED ON. IN FACT YOU WON’T PAY FOR ANYTHING THAT COULD HELP!”

IN LAW – “WHY YOU SHOUT AT ME? WHY EVERYONE HATES ME? (In Greek)- FUCK YOU TO GOD, FUCK ALL YOU WHORES, YOU CAME AND ATE MY LIFE!”

ME – “WELL I HAD BALLS BEFORE I MET YOU. YOU ATE MY BALLS. AND THE BALLS OF YOUR SONS!”

At which point IN LAW threw a box of lettuce at me. I responded with a box of cucumbers.

(It was early in the morning, nothing had been set up yet.)

DRAMATIC PAUSE

So, another good day in the office.

Fear not, this is actually perfectly normal. Maria (yes I confess it was her, could you tell?) and I made up my the afternoon, by which time the drama had turned to plates in the kitchen (nothing to do with me).

Who ever said Greek Island life was simple?

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The most crap Houdini and sponges

Hold the press. I’ve done the ultimate Houdini (to quote Anna down at the bar )by quitting the mini market –

In fact I’ve been the most crap Houdini – I disappeared from the Mini market – but one week later I’ve had Jimmy, my partner, beg me to come and make a celebrity special for a few weeks down at the bar – they’ve suddenly been over run with business-

I sat in silence as he practically got down on his knees, while I was drumming my fingers (women can be bitches)…. I left for a principle. Now I’m back, in a different form. Kind of like Ben 10, or the Mystique character from X men, (who charmaeleon like, changes at will), if you will.

So, hence the silence blog wise –
I’m still inside the regime. (So much for Live Aid).
At least we have re addressed the balance.
I should always have been in the bar.
I made my big protest, no one listens, and with a wee bit of begging, I’m back in the whole complex.
Weak perhaps…

We had 700 Italians down last Sunday – the staff are overstretched, two good waiters for 18 tables, no bussies, and me on the till and floor as the only member of staff who speaks Italian, let alone language dealing with the Greeks and French –

Anybody working has to be like a freaking octopus – Imagine this –

(Me, at till, eyes completely gone, and a bit warped, as are all the staff, imagine cross eyes and hair squiffy, calling numbers, throat hoarse)
“Due Centi cinquanta cinque! Theo kosia peninda pende! For fuck sake 250, you lost your BURGER!”

Jimmy’s hair has completely gone Elvis on plugged in steroids. When he looks at you, like most of us, his eyes are crossed and he acts like the rest of us – aggressive and unreasonable –

Jimmy – “WHAT??? WHAT??? I GAVE IT BEFORE…”
Me – “OK, CALM DOWN”
Jimmy – “DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!”
Me – “FUCK YOU!”
Jimmy – “FUCK YOU TOO”
Me – (To customer) “Five fifty, Thankyou very much.”

On that note, let it be known that the blog continues. No particular theme apart from insanity.
Welcome to the next one after the mayhem, when I may say things like –

Me – “My mother in law has now gone so manic she’s dying her hair with the plastic bag extravaganza every two weeks” (true)
Me – “The staff are a little confused as to why their tips are so good now that I’m on the till down at the bar” (true)
Me – “Yannis, my father in law and I are still not talking. Even when he twisted his foot the other day after falling down the very slippery and ominous marble stairs to the bar, of course I never laughed or smirked in the slightest” (true).

I will, as seems tradition, leave you with the quote of the day – This is an oldie, but a goodie –

(My mother in law with one of those sponges that has the yellow sponge side and the scratchy green side; (like I’d never seen one before))
“Please, please, Looby, when you clean, you must clean. This side (yellow), you put the bleach, and you wait, one, two, three, four.”
(I, baffled by the fervour, was in silence and shock to be honest)
“Then. You wait. One. Two. Three. Four. Then using this (the green) you clean and you clean and you clean.” (My mouth had dropped by this time).
Then the final words, implying I was merely a wretch –
“I DON’T WANT YOU AND MY SON TO LIVE LIKE GYPSIES!”

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Mini Market Protest Part One…

Artists come in all shapes and sizes. Superficially, the job definition is seen as being either a painter, writer, musician, performer, sculptor, artisan, comic… By job definition, “artists” work in a miriad of forms, and may well be mixed between all of them.

The greatest thing that “artists” give us however, is a commentary on society, or history, and more than this, sometimes a protest and rise against the unacceptable. Sometimes the artist eases us, amuses us, calms us. Reflects our desires, our willingness to want peace, or just to laugh. Artists seem to come to the fore most when times are tight. They are of the few people who are most willing to work for nothing, and at their best, just to prove a point, to make a stance, to give hope.

Fear not, that is about as wanky as I’m going to get… except for this last point…

Sometimes “artists” at the height of success, make their protest by perhaps getting together a free concert. (They get great publicity). I’m mostly thinking of Band Aid, and Live Aid. Sometimes, all the famous artists will rally around to give protest at a star studded event against something random.
“Welcoming Sting, and Britney Spears against AIDS!.”

Sometimes “artists” are not so highly successful. In fact, most of the time. I consider myself a phenomonously failed actor in terms of that success- I have no career to speak of, never did really. I am still a woman in a very sexist country however, and a protester of sorts. I do believe that charity should begin at home – and so should protest.

On that note, and completely like LIVE AID, I have QUIT THE MINI MARKET…

Part Two to follow soon…

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