GastroCafer'e Hoş Geldiniz!
Room service is one of the areas in the hotel kitchen where the pressure is felt the most.
Everything runs on a strict system measured in minutes and mistakes are not tolerated.
With the fifth story in the Culinary Tales series, we will see one of the most horrifying incidents ever experienced.
I think you might already feel a little tense.
Are you really ready to watch the intern Baran as the price of every delayed order is carved into his flesh?
If your answer is yes, GastroCafer wishes you a chilling read!
Chapter 1: The First Cuts Behind the Bell
The pace inside the room service kitchen never slowed down.
A few burger orders and, thankfully, fewer shouts than usual…
Maybe this time I could finish everything without getting yelled at.
Still, I shouldn’t relax too much. My chef had his eyes on me.
He was busy portioning boiled pasta coated in oil, yet his eyes were not on his hands. They were on me.
Of course I didn’t expect him to put in much effort himself, but being watched every minute wasn’t exactly pleasant either.
His intention was obvious.
Just a small mistake, a tiny opening… And the hunter would pounce on his prey with full force.
No, chef. Not today. You won’t have a victim tonight.
The fries were already in the fryer; the buns were on the grill, and I was placing the service plates down.
And then…
A new order came in.
“Baran, tell me what just came in. You haven’t even sent out the two burger orders yet!”
“Chef… Two omelets and two fruit salads. I’ll slice the burgers first and then prepare the omelets.”
“Boy, are you out of your mind? The omelets will get cold while you’re making the fruit salads!
You still haven’t understood our customer profile.
Baran, the difference between your taste and theirs is enormous!”
I knew that too.
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After all, our hotel served everyone from foreign tourists to high-level executives.
Of course someone like me — who was perfectly satisfied with greasy cafeteria fries — couldn’t possibly share the same taste as them.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t do my job properly!
And if I made a mistake, you could warn me without humiliating me.
After all, I believed I was a fast learner and eager to improve.
“We’re finished! Look at him drifting off. The orders are getting delayed!”
For the first time that day, my chef was right.
While struggling with my thoughts, my hands had slowed down.
Whose fault was that?
Anyway, the fruit plates were ready, and two pans were heating up for the omelets…
Even with a three-minute delay, it looked like I could send everything out.
My chef had returned to portioning pasta and was wearing a strange smile on his face.
Just moments ago he had been shouting like a man possessed.
Now he was smiling.
“O-okay… that’s a little unsettling. But the orders are basically done. There, I rang the bell.”
I could finally catch my breath while cleaning the station.
While I was wiping the counter, the young guy responsible for delivering the orders to the rooms came and went in a flash.
He was wearing the same strange smile as my chef.
But those smiles were not what terrified me the most.
What truly horrified me—
was the three thin, bloody cuts that had appeared on the inside of my arm.
Chapter 2: A Break That Cannot Be Fixed
After a brisk fifteen-minute walk, I managed to catch the 11:15 PM ferry.
Two long hours of travel still awaited me on the way home.
Probably enough time to make sense of what had just happened.
I’ll keep it short and simple.
Near the end of my shift, cuts suddenly appeared on my arm.
It wasn’t a kitchen accident, and I had no clue how they had formed.
At least no one had noticed the wounds, and I managed to finish the day without creating another problem.
Yes, as an intern, no matter what happens to me, my priority is finishing my shift.
Otherwise, how could I ever escape from these strange coworkers and find a new workplace?
So, all the way to the end.
Looks like I’m almost home.
If I want to rest, I should deal with these cuts and go to bed immediately.
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“This won’t do. You’ve gotten spoiled. Who do you think you are, making such an important guest wait?”
These were the words from my chef that echoed in my mind from the previous day.
In reality he had said a thousand other things too, but my only response had always been the same:
“Yes, Chef!”
In short, everything seemed normal.
With bandages on my arm, I ran from one order to another, trying to keep up with him.
“Baran, I’m going out for a tea break. When I come back, you can call it a day. Until then, don’t let the orders get delayed.
After all, finding a new intern in the middle of summer would be difficult for us.”
My chef walked away from the counter with his back turned, wearing a smile similar to yesterday’s.
Even though I thought I understood his sense of humor, that last sentence made no sense to me.
A new intern in the middle of summer…
Just as I was getting lost in my thoughts again, new orders began printing from the ticket machine.
I had to be quick.
Chapter 3: Surrendering to the Darkness
I had already started preparing the spaghetti orders.
Meanwhile, three portions of the soup of the day were simmering on the stove.
Alright, the spaghetti was plated. Now—
Another ticket printed.
My chef had been gone for twenty minutes, and my shift would end in fifteen.
Although I had felt confident at first, my hands were now trembling slightly.
If only someone would come pick up the prepared plates.
“Damn it! Who leaves room service to a single person at the busiest time? And what am I supposed to deliver the plates to the rooms myself too?”
I opened the shelves one by one, trying to keep up with every order, but my body felt like it couldn’t endure the pace.
Yesterday’s wounds had started bleeding again.
How did I notice?
Well, the red stains on the sleeve of my chef jacket were definitely not tomato sauce.
No, continuing to work like this would violate every hygiene rule.
Actually, it would violate basic human rights.
“That’s it for me! I can’t wait for my chef to return from his tea break. I need to see a doctor immediately.
It feels like cuts are forming on other parts of my body too.
Move, Baran!”
I hurried through the narrow corridors of the kitchen as fast as I could.
There were no other chefs around, neither from pastry nor banquet.
What was even stranger was the darkness slowly creeping into the kitchen.
No… that couldn’t be right!
The electricity in our famous hotel couldn’t possibly have gone out, and the staff certainly wouldn’t all leave at once.
“Someone… Someone help! I’m injured! Damn it, is there nobody here?
The elevator won’t work, and the stairs I can’t even—”
The last thing my eyes saw before they closed in the darkness was a ticket lying among my severed limbs.
My name was written on it.
Final Words
For Baran, a gastronomy student doing his internship in a hotel, the room service experience was not only about racing against time.
I hope “Room Service Memories” allowed you to imagine the price hidden behind every delayed order.
With new stories, the Culinary Tales series will continue to reveal the dark side of kitchens.
Stay tuned to GastroCafer.
Continue the gastronomic journey with “A Day in Karaköy” and “Types of Corn“.
Cafer Can Yeşilyurt
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