Eye-ball juice and knife skills

I returned about a half ago from the so-called restaurant that was going to decide my so-called fate. It went well, in my opinion. To be quite honest, today was not difficult. I gutted calamari and almost vomited, diced lemons, segmented a few oranges, chopped a huge mound of parsley and sliced pan forte (a ridiculously chewy chocolaty Italian confection).

Funny thing is, the kitchen staff thought I had just been hired, but when I sat down to have a chat to the chef/owner he didn't seemed convinced that I belonged in a kitchen. His lame reason was, "You don't look tough enough". What the hell is that meant to mean? Like I said -- lame reason. His main complaint was that he showed me how to slice the pan forte, and after my arm tired and the chocolate began to soften, I had to use another method of slicing. Both methods produced the same results -- but I guess that wasn't the point. I have to learn "by example, he says.

In my words, the worst that could happen to me was that I could chop one of my fingers off and, in his words, the worst thing that could happen to him was that he could get frustrated with me. Neither sounds so bad.

Right before I left, I had to gut some calamari. It was quite disgusting, but I tried my best to not let it show on my face. One part of the process involved squeezing it's neck in order to slice it and, just once, I squeezed it just a bit too hard and an eyeball burst, or something burst, and a dark liquid squirted all over my apron. I nearly vomited at the sight of the bulging eye ball and the extremely fishy smell wasn't particularly helpful.

I guess my fate will now be decided on Monday, after he has a chat to the kitchen staff to see what they think. I think I have the staff on my side, magically enough.