While we wait for Nicole...

Nicole hasn't blogged yet, so she must still be on the plane to London. Jeez, who knew it was a 24 hour flight?? While we're waiting for Nicole to land and write her first entry from the mother country, here's another short one from me about all the co-workers I'm leaving behind... NOW.

I'm really bad at noticing changes until they happen. Though Monday night was my second to last night working at Casa de Luz, it didn't feel different from any other night. I kept thinking, "Well, this is the second to last time I get to take the macrobiotic trash out" or whatever, but those thoughts were forced. It didn't feel like the second to last time I was doing anything.

Here's a list of people I worked with at Casa de Luz, and how much they'll miss me. They are in order from least to most:

Irma, one of the Guatemalan cooks. I think she may have been the only person at Casa de Luz who actually hated me. I must have rubbed her the wrong way early on or something. Granted, she doesn't know any English, and I don't know any Spanish, but that's no reason not to talk to me. Maybe she thought I was Lester.

Robert, the British manager. He just wants me to burn some "Air" CDs for him. I promised them to him two months ago, and since then our relationship has devolved to him asking me where his Air CDs are and me sincerely promising to bring them next time. We used to talk about movies. No longer. Maybe I'll just give him Air's 10,000 Mgz Star. That'll show him.

Any, the boss. She gets a bad rap for being indifferent to the cooks, but she paid for me to go to the clinic twice, once for something not work related at all. I doubt she'll be torn up about my absence. It’ll save Casa on hospital bills.

Janet, the financial person. Her daughter is the manager at Angelica's Kichen in New York. So I hope she misses me more than Any and Robert. She's been kind of nice to me lately. Maybe she'll put in a good word.

Brian, guy who's job is mysterious but who lives with Janet even though he's much younger than her. He probably thought I wasn't hard core enough about macrobiotics to merit much attention.

Wayo, the owner, and Any’s ex-husband. He once told me, "Rhys, you have the face of an angel. Watch over us." I never knew how to talk to that guy.

Agusto, a Guatemalan cook and groundskeeper who is also Timo’s brother. He trained me to do dishes on Sunday Brunch, the busiest shift of the week. He gave me a hearty hand clasp for doing such a good job on my first day. That was the peak of our friendship.

Nico, the Guatemalan lead cook who's been at Casa for 12 years. I was hardly ever on his shift. But when I was, oh man, the chemistry!

Florie, a 22 year-old Guatemalan cook with kids. She always exclaimed, “Hola, Rhys!” whenever I came in. Even though I gave her any shift of mine that she ever wanted, she never gave me any shifts. The only thing close I got from her was the shaft.

Olga, an older Guatemalan cook. She once had a crush on me, but she yelled at Timo for telling me that, since she has a husband and kids, and believes in God and all that. However, she was hurt the most by Timo’s practical joke on me and the Guatemalans, which I’ll get to with Timo.

Rosa, the Guatemalan night lead cook. She tried to talk to me more than any of the other Guatemalans. The night of the lunar eclipse, she kept asking me when the eclipse was supposed to happen. The next night, she told me that she’d seen the eclipse, and had tried to get her husband Noe to look at it with her. He told her that she was crazy, and that he was too busy reading the Bible to go outside.

Noe, another lead cook, and Nico’s brother. Monday night he asked me if I had any job other than Casa. I said, “No.” He smiled, nodded, and said, “Good.” I don’t think he knows I’m leaving.

Timo, a Guatemalan and the Saturday brunch lead cook. He is easily the most evil person who works at Casa de Luz, but also one of the funniest. Too bad he can’t just be funny. Apparently he starts every shift on his knees, pleading to God for forgiveness for what he did the night before. He was the lead cook my second day working there, and I went home and had anxiety dreams afterward. He will miss having me around, if only because I’m a good person to play tricks on. I should have whipped him with a brown rice noodle for his last prank, the reason the Guatemalans have turned cool on me lately. Short story long: Oh my God! I can’t believe he did this, and I can’t believe I fell for it! One Friday night shift, Timo came up to me all smiley and said, “Hola, Rhysito. Are you working tomorrow morning?” “Yeah, I am.” “Okay," he said, even more smiley. "When you come in tomorrow morning, I want you to go to Florie, Olga, and Agusto, and say, ‘Hola mojaditos!’” Now, I’m not a complete fool, and I knew that whatever mojadito meant, it wasn’t going to be the most polite thing to say. But I figured the joke would be on me, the stupid gringo who doesn’t know what’s going on. I also assumed it would be in good fun, and whatever it was would be obviously a joke, especially since Timo kept coaching me on the word, which I kept forgetting, throughout the shift. By the time I got home, I forgot the word, so I couldn’t look it up. When I got to work the next morning, Timo took me aside and said, “Don’t forget – ‘Hola mojadito.’” I didn’t want to disappoint him, since he was so excited about it, so I told it to Florie and Olga, just like he said, but chickened out when it came time to say it to Agusto. Rosa overheard it as well. I don’t remember getting much of a reaction from anybody. A few weeks later, Leslie took me aside. “Rhys,” she said, “I heard that you told some of the Guatemalan cooks ‘hola mojadito.’ Do you know what that means?” I shook my head. “It means wetback.” My heart sank. “Rosa and Florie assumed that Timo told you to say it. But Olga was really hurt. She asked, ‘Is Rhys mad at the Guatemalans? What did we do?’” I went to the bathroom, tried to imagine how Olga must have felt when this kid who was lucky enough to be born in the United States apparently mocked her for no reason other than her desire to make a life here too, and sobbed. For the rest of the shift, I couldn’t look any of the Guatemalans in the eye. I only wanted to be deported to a poverty-stricken country and live a hopeless existence, completely unable to live up to my potential. Either that, or apologize to Olga, which would be better for both of us. The thing is, we were never scheduled together again. It was destined to haunt me the rest of my rich, privileged life. Then, last week, after eating lunch at Casa de Luz with Emily and staying until past closing time, I saw that Olga, who was on that shift, had missed her bus. I had Rachel’s car, so I offered her a ride. It was uncomfortably silent the whole way. At every stoplight I tried to muster the courage to say something, but at most came out with an, "Ah." We got to her apartment, and she was about to get out. “Olga,” I said, clearing my throat. “Lo siento por what Timo told me to say to tu.” She didn’t understand. Who knows why. Look at how great my Spanish was. “Uh. Timo. Yo no comprendo. Lo siento. Timo. Um. Timo.” “OH!” she said, brightening. She got all smiley and said something in Spanish about how she knew I hadn’t known what I was saying. She thanked me and got out of the car. So yeah. Timo will miss me.

The Volunteers. I don’t know any of their names, so I can’t list them individually, but most of them seemed to think I was funny.

Casa Rachel, a prep cook and the worst dish washer. I am a constant reminder of the failure of her hydrogen peroxide to completely cure every known ailment, so though she enjoys my company, she ultimately resents me.

Madeline, the dessert baker. Rachel O. and I took some of the heat off her by volunteering on the baking shift a couple of times. Madeline will miss that for sure. She keeps asking if I’m having a going away party. I don’t know if this means she’ll miss me horribly, or if she just wants to boogie.

Leslie, the cooking prodigy who has been a lead cook at Casa since she was 19. We both hate Rushmore. She’ll be alone in that area when I’m gone.

Sarah, a prep cook from Boston and student at St. Edwards. I thought she had a crush on me when I first started working there (this is Pre-Rachel, folks!), but when I asked her out to The Saddest Music in the World, she invited Leslie. Brutal. Then we became surprisingly great friends for how little time we spent together. She wants us to write a book of short stories together, so that will keep us in touch, but she's too busy with school and fawning professors to notice all that much that I'm leaving.

Michelle, another manager. She was one of the few people who fought for me to get a job at Casa after a year and a half of on-and-off volunteering. Michelle once said that she was always happy to have me on a shift because it meant someone there was on her side. Apparently I didn’t sabatoge her like the other employees. Though I’ve never said anything about acting aspirations, she’s sure I’ll become the next Hugh Grant, and wants me to buy her a car when I get rich. I promised her I would, and I meant it. She got in on the ground floor, after all. Since I’m leaving to make my fortune and buy her a car, she’s kind of happy about it.

Lester really doesn’t want me to leave. I was supposed to be his disciple, and train to be a lead cook. "You're one of the few people who really understands the system here," he said. "Now it's just me and Oliver." I have to shoot a skateboarding video with him before I leave.

Aida, Nico's wife, and the only Guatemalan cook who's actually from Mexico and not Guatemala. Aida is the real upset here. She doesn't speak much English, and I don't speak any Spanish, so we never really communicated verbally. Except she would always ask if I was working the next day’s shift, and would be glad if I was. She’ll truly miss me. She once told me (I had to have this translated), "You are quiet, but you have a heart of gold." When she heard that I was leaving, she frowned and mimed a tear on her face. Wait a minute. Is anyone here going to shed a real tear?!

Rachel, my girlfriend. She doesn’t work at Casa, but she volunteers, so she counts. I think she’ll miss me most of all when I’m gone. And I’ll miss her most of all too.

Now I’m off to my last ever shift at Casa de Luz. Wish me luck!