Friday, July 13, 2012

Womble Inductions

My first day didn't start off very well. I got up at 6:30am in an attempt to get in for 9am, a domino effect of missed connections meant my eta was an hour later. My best example of how I missed a bus however came from a case of classic British mentality; "Oh well nobody else is getting on so this can't be the right bus." Alas it was the right bus. The rest were classic, new-Londoner mistakes, e.g. falling for the fact the bus stop with a street name is not necessarily anywhere on that street.

The queue of workers to get in wasn't as long as I thought it was going to be, it was also a good place to get chatting to people, even though I'd probably see none of them again. This first stage was basically just being in one queue, then getting lost before joining another queue. Eventually we were shepherded to our respective areas, and walking around the site was very exciting.

I was to be working on the Roof Top Bar which is part of the debenture section of centre court found at the very top floor of centre court. When the sun was out there were fantastic views of the London skyline and out the backdoor of the kitchen was a great view of centre court. Could be worse!




The first day was merely and induction day where we got to meet the other workers and got to know our way around. There was only an hour long "training session" which involved a man telling us basic health and safety as well as how to correctly pour the perfect pimms (even though our pimms came premixed). My manager was a man called Kendal who was from Trinidad and Tobago, I can only assume from the bracelet, ring and necklace with their flag on it. He seemed pretty relaxed which was a good sign. The chef on the other hand is rarely a role for a relaxed person and I'll always be a bit wary of them. Our chef for the Championships was Stefano who was an Italian-Geordie who was "quite a character" according to Kendal, that'll be a normal chef then.

Although I am only doing basic catering jobs I am still terrified as Wimbledon has such a reputation to do everything to such a high standard, and at this point it looked like it was only me on front of house- which was even more terrifying (on Sunday I'd be relieved to see that a fellow, be it fake, ginger was accompanying me out-front). 


I finished my induction day earlier than I thought and the sun was shining so I thought it would be a great excuse to get my bearings and wander around. The complex was pretty empty but tomorrow it would be full of people, and it was kind of hard to imagine. It all looked like it does on TV, but there are tons of bits you don't see and some of those bits are stunning. Henman Hill for example (or to give it's real name Aorangi Terrace) has some lovely little water features and green-fingered handy work, but I suppose that is hard to see when it's full of Andy Murray fans.

I got home at about 8:30pm and I caught the end of England's quarterfinal game against Italy. From a young age my Dad brought me up to follow the Scottish "A.B.E" approach to international football, this was a much harder task to carry out across the border. Being in the room with a big England fan didn't help as it just riled me up more and when Ashley Cole's penalty was beautifully saved my emotions couldn't stay quiet much longer and I shrieked in joy, resulting in a look like daggers.

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