Left-handed, not backwards-handed

I took five of my culinary students to a Korean bakery this afternoon for an interview. I don't think any of them have had much experience with interviews, outside of the one I gave them, in their village backgrounds. Interviews by their very nature are intimidating and unenjoyable. The added stress of undergoing an interview in another language must be even more painful.

However, the real comedy of the unfolding situation is that the person doing the hiring is the chef, not the owners. While the owners are cordial and speak fairly fluent English and exude the warmth that young Asian couple often do, the chef is a gruff old man with less English knowledge than my students. When he sits down in his chair to join the interview, his legs are set akimbo and his feet meet on the floor creating diamond of open air that showcases his crotch. His torso is pushed back a bit, but his face is aligned vertically with crotch. With his hands gripping the armrests, it looks as if he is ready to pounce and rip the jugular of every applicant at the table.

The young couple tries to temper his questions. I know from sound that they are speaking Korean, but in my mind it sounds like they are translating a Klingon war decree through a Federation mediator. Eventually, we finish with the formalities, and the nice young couple admits that they have no idea who to choose. This seems reasonable because the students all come from somewhat similar disadvantaged backgrounds. So I make the casual suggestion that the chef tests them in the kitchen.

That was overall a bad idea. It's not that the idea didn't work, but that it was so comically wrong. The chef had one test, and as far as I could tell it had nothing to do with cooking. The chef pulled out an egg from thin air (in retrospect he probably got it from under the table). He displays the egg in his left hand, with his arm positioned in a 90 degree angle. He is holding the egg like it is an item of power. Suddenly, he produces more eggs and non-verbally instructs the interviewees to do as he is doing.

Just before he passes the eggs out, he asks for a question to be translated. "Is anyone left-handed?" After some confusion, one of my students raises his hand sheepishly. The chef looks away toward the ground, a bit disgusted, and mutters something. The kind young Korean woman apologizes to my student and says that the chef will not hire left-handed cooks. My student is completely confused and I am just taken aback.

Immediately, the eggs get distributed to the students and they are asked to perform the test. The test involves holding an egg, in your left hand, with your forearm prostrate, and spinning the egg with your thumb and fingers. I have never seen this test before and only stare in amazement. After 45 seconds, the chef signals them to stop.

He thinks, with his index finger and thumb rubbing his chin. Then he speaks with the nice young couple and selects the two students that showed the most promise. They turn to a third student and apologize to him. They say that he demonstrated a great deal of promise, but that his technique needs more refinement. They encourage everyone to apply again soon, as they would be hiring more individuals.

The students who were not selected walk out a bit dejected. I couldn't blame them. The only thing that was going through my mind was WTF! A 45-second egg spinning test and eliminating my left-handed student, what kind of crazy Korean exam is that! Why not ask them to name a recipe or bake a cake? Why not give them a test that has something to do with cooking!?

I keep my cool though and try to raise the spirits of my students. I offer to buy them ice cream, which they refuse. I tell them that interviewing is tough and that you just have to put yourself out there if you want something. However, what I want to say is, “that was a ridiculous interview and you will never have to go through that again.”

But all's well that ends well. Two of my students got jobs and the rest of them will have incentive to brush up on their egg twirling skills. Except that left-handed kid, he's just screwed no matter which way you look at it.

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I think I realized last night just how personally I take my work. What sparked it off was a two-minute conversation with someone I regard highly.

I was at an art gallery opening, enjoying the free food and drinks provided. Many of my friends from various NGOs were around. I ran into a casual friend who happens to have started a very successful NGO called Pepy Ride. (If you want to support their work, vote for them on the geotouism changemakers website here: http://geotourism.changemakers.com/en-us/node/16599/vote )

Anyway, we only spoke for about two minutes and she retold a friend of a friend story about how our programs were neither sustainable or effective. This was in regard to a time before I arrived, when the person running the program did not do a very good job. Nonetheless, I felt like it was a slight against me and my work thus far. It probably didn't help that the complaint mentioned two years ago is still somewhat valid today.

I could stop thinking about it all night and the following morning I wrote off a two-page response to explain the programs and defend my work. In retrospect, it was probably unnecessary. In fact, it made me feel a bit silly that I would get so upset and defensive.

My worry is that it points to a larger trouble which is that I am too attached to my programs. I have put a lot of time and energy into them, but at the end of the day I still have to realize that they are part of something bigger and separate from me. Also, I should know that the programs are not me, and that I have a life outside of work.

I know that whenever the time comes to step away from this job, the task will be quite difficult. For that reason, I need to be more conscious of the goals I am trying to achieve and the ensure that the final result will continue to live on in the next person who takes on this position.

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In contrary news, I will be taking over our bakery to try and turn our current losses into profits. Ideally, this bakery is supposed to make money for our school, not take it away.

Cons: I know little about business, I don't enjoy bossing people around
Pros: the learning experience, the smell of fresh bread