A Rough Start
So 9 days ago I promised a post tomorrow. Well, it is with good reason that it’s taken me nine whole days to post: I’ve been exhausted. That and this experience didn’t start out at all as I expected.
Anyone who’s ever traveled abroad can tell you how important it is to “get on the destination’s time” as soon as possible. It’s why many flights are scheduled the way they are. They are set up so if you’re one of the lucky ones who can sleep on a flight, ideally you’ll sleep while those at your destination are sleeping in order to help alleviate the impending jet lag.
This normally works well for me, but my flight to Paris out of Chicago was not delayed, not once, but 3 times for a total of 6 hours. Thankfully I was flying Polaris so at least I got that full extension on the trans-Atlantic flight, or I would have been an extremely angry individual. That reminds me, I need to contact United Cares so I can tell them to run me my coins for this 6-hour delay!
Strike One: Come in Dress Code
I have a habit of checking my calendar for the next day just before going to bed every night. Being the studious and overly eager student that I am (or was the last time I was a student anywhere) I’d already imported my Le Cordon Bleu calendar to my personal Gmail calendar, so I’d be notified appropriately.
In checking my LCB calendar I saw that the first class would be at 2 pm on April 4th. Score! That means I can get a little more sleep than I’d expected because this jet lag had me whooped!
I arrived at my first demo class and upon arrival, I see literally everyone in their chef coats and trousers. 👀 Yours truly was the only person in the class of approximately 64 new bright-eyed future chefs in training not in uniform. apparently, I’d missed the orientation earlier in the day where everyone picked up their uniforms and knife kits. So here I am off to a great start.
Here’s a thing some people may or may not know. There is a thing called a black tax that rightly or wrongly, many black people carry. Some of us feel the need to overcompensate for negative stereotypes that have been assigned to black people. It’s largely the reason I try not to show up late to important meetings and why I often over-tip since many believe black people don’t tip well.
Now, given that I am in a completely different country, not only did I find myself carrying that black tax, but also the American tax. Here I was in one of the premier culinary arts programs in the world as one of 4 people who appear to be of African descent and one of the few Americans who was in class without being prepared.
That first class set the class rules:
No matter why you chose to come here, at Le Cordon Bleu they are dedicated to professionalism. Translation: for someone like me who came to check a box that would allow me to host better dinner parties for my friend, I’d still be held to the same standards as those coming to actually pursue a profession in culinary arts.
Come on time. Most of these days start at 7:30 am. Anyone who knows me knows that I typically know what the world looks like before 8 AM only if I’ve stayed up till 8 am not as a result of waking up at a normal human’s time.
No cellphones, tablets, or electronics in class. This is getting progressively worse. Now I haven’t been in school in nearly two decades, but I was pretty sure that electronics in class was basically par for the course now, and not to mention how in the world am I supposed to take my notes if I can’t use my iPad and fancy-schmancy personalized Apple pencil?
No nail polish. This would have been great to know before I got a fresh gel manicure the day before boarding my flight to Paris. 🙄
Come in uniform. The uniform should be clean and pressed. Hold up! Stop the press (no pun intended). I have not owned an iron in several years. Traumatic experiences in my youth, namely having to iron my dad’s post office work shirts and my pleated uniform skirts had scarred me and I basically vowed to never iron as an adult, a vow to which I’d been true for the most part. While this requirement to iron had me seriously reconsidering my decision to move forward with this class, that fully paid non-refundable tuition made me suck up my disdain for pressing and committing to giving 100% at all of the requirements.
It’s been a long time since I was a grade whore, but sitting in this first class, I knew that the feeling to prove that I’d be tops in the class was creeping back up. So I decided before walking out of that class that I do what I had to get as many 5s (on a scale of 0-5).
After class, I picked up my uniforms and my knife roll that everyone else had picked up on time. I headed off to Club Scooter to pick up my wheels for the next 6 weeks and I headed home to hurry to get to sleep so I could be up in time to get to school for 7:00 AM and beast this shit! Here we go…
