{Column} Currygate. Or: of snacks, sausages and dignity.
S on a Saturday afternoon in the center of Hamburg - the nuclear family has boldly embarked on a shopping spree. In fact, everything is very enjoyable, the child is in a good mood and does not drive us crazy for a change. However, in the morning there was already a threatening speech because of acute ill temper and offensive tone to the guardian. The child seems to have memorized one or two things and is socially compatible at the moment. Must, ne.
Loaded with bags we fight our way through street jugglers, demonstrators and tourists, who relentlessly plow through the pedestrian precinct in blocks of five. That consumes a little something on the nerves and we get hungry. We quickly go through the manageable and affordable options that are available in the city center of Hamburg: We reject Daniel W's fish fast food restaurant as well as the burger chain with the golden bows or the top bakery (front everything, nothing inside) rolls of the usual bakery chains , And then the man has a good idea: Somewhat away from the hustle and bustle, there is this particular currywurst shop, which already on the hill and in Ottensen loud foxy slogan "the sausage returns her dignity". On request, there are also organic sausages. Well, the nuclear family has a goal.
Lucky about a free table, we fall with child and bags shortly afterwards in the stylish snack, climb on the bar stools and hungry hungry with the photos on the light above Counter.
Then my gaze falls one meter down onto the young woman behind the counter - and I have a bit of a hunch that this could be a difficult task. The tender, blond curly being is serving the cash register. No, she tries to use the cash register and taps on the various buttons with increasing violence. Then she says in a sweet but unmistakable voice that particular sentence that you never, never, never want to hear: "I'm sorry, I'm just the temporary help". "Auweia, the poor things," I think and wait for salvation in the form of a colleague approaching. However, there is no salvation. She is alone in the snack bar and at the cash register. No colleague around.
"Hey," I whisper to the man, "You have to stay strong now." Together, we head to the counter to place the order. What can I say. We place the order four times smoothly and repeatedly repeat different parts before we feel that everything has arrived reasonably well. Currywurst fries with Astra, bratwurst fries with orange lemonade and the sausage special with Astra. The curly man nods and then asks: "And what do you want to drink?" She is very friendly and charming. She's obviously struggling to do the job well. But she lacks any experience. Routine is out of the question. I notice how the man gets nervous. On strenuous service, he can not do well. With a steep forehead wrinkle he repeats slowly and loudly the beverage requests and lifts each time a sample bottle from the counter display to support the process visually. I smile emphatically binding in the round. It's about time we got settled again.
From our table we have the perfect view of the deep fryer and grill. Man and child are advantageously fully engaged in the assembly of a LEGO StarWars spaceship. So I can calmly enjoy the show:
The employee is busy fishing fries from the deep fryer and filling a currywurst with sauce. Thank God works without major burns. I'm happy. However, you fall twice the salt shaker from your hand and kullert on the floor, as she wants to season the fries.In the meantime, new guests have arrived, who form the queue in front of the counter. On the grill is a steak. Then nothing. Next to it is an already prepared Currywurst. "Hm," I think. She begins to compose a side salad. Remove the cucumber from the fridge, cut three slices, put the cucumber back in the refrigerator. Take the tomato out of the fridge, quarter the tomato, put the tomato on a plate. Remove the container of corn from the refrigerator, place 2 tablespoons of corn on a plate and put the corn back in the refrigerator. I am fascinated. Each time she gets rid of the salad and the fridge, she lays it back three meters each time.
The queue in front of the counter becomes restless. The side salad is ready and the steak joins on the plate. "Currywurst fries and steak with salad" calls the curly into the room and looks at me as if she had never seen me before. I shake my head. Three tables further up, a very hungry-looking couple gets up to receive the trays. I bet the Currywurst is refreshingly cool now. "Have a good appetite" wishes the snack pearl heartily, as the couple returns to the table with the trays.
"If she does not put our sausages on the grill, I go and do that," I think with me. Maybe there's something like telepathy - she fishes in the fridge and throws three sausages on the hot plate. Well, we're in the game.
Meanwhile, a good 8 men are waiting in front of the counter. Three sausages on the grill. The couple with sausage and steak reappear in the second row at the bar and ask for the drinks. After repeating the order and multiple fridge-flaps, the two forgave again with bottles in their hands.
The Miss turns around, sees the snake, visibly startled, shrugs her shoulders and smiles at the counter. "What can it be?" I get respect. Big respect. The fact that she endures this obviously excessive stress for her without crying and still trying to be nice and friendly, makes her incredibly likable.
Finally we get our sausages. And also the drinks. It all took a long time, various things have fallen over, there were many ways back and various people asked for the whereabouts of food and drinks. In addition, the cash register has definitely failed three times. But the snack bar was like a one.
When we pay, I'm really groggy when I look at it. I do not know how the extremely hard-working, but not at all trained, employee has to feel. I do not know how bosses can get the idea of letting employees go so far unprepared for boiling fat and a bunch of hungry people. In her place I would have drunk at the end of the day and would never, never, never come back. Certainly. But one thing is for sure: She has not only returned her dignity to the sausages with much style. She has earned the golden trophy for the most bone-heavy snack pearl with great dignity. Who sizzles behind the counter without experience through such a day, bites everywhere. I am secretly proud of "our" snack pearl.
Credit: Photo by Shutterstock by Martin Rettenberger