I would love to write a blog post about how I slipped effortlessly into the stream of Thai-workplace politics like a lotus blossom into a beung (pond), but as I did not, I cannot. Granted, a restaurant kitchen is a chaotic and stressful place at the best of times, and at the worst of times it is a drunken-family-reunion with knives. I guess coming into this kitchen I had hoped that my winning formula from home would work: be jocular, always be willing to answer any question no matter how dumb it is (or how dumb the employee is), insist on doing things the right way (but bend the rules to save someone’s ass), give people time off when they need it, never belittle anyone, and when all else fails, make a sex joke.

That strategy has not worked quite the same here. For one, I don’t speak Thai well enough to be jocular. A grinning mute I can manage, just barely. Also, my kitchen staff is all women. The bakers are all men, but they work the night shift and I don’t see them that often. At the last place I worked at it was almost all guys, and anytime things got too hectic someone would just snap a towel at someone’s ass and then mime something inappropriate. Thai’s love a joke, but my face burns red with the imagined shame of snapping a towel at my (female) pantry cook and then humping the mixer. It’s not that kind of crowd. And then, there’s the face. So much face to save in the Thai work place. Directness is not appreciated, which contradicts the “there’s no crying in the kitchen” culture that I’m used to, where everyone yells at everyone else and it’s well understood that it is not only not personal, but normally not even true, so just ignore all yelling. Here, all yelling is taken to heart, and it shames families for generations.

So! Not one to shy from a challenge (and also: this is the only staff I’m going to get here, so make some lemonade already, people are hungry), I’m adapting. Changing. Being culturally sensitive, which, as all people who make their home in a foreign culture know, means suppressing everything until you can vent with unfettered verve in an appropriate venue.

Hello, lovelies. Did you know you were going to be used as a venue? Mind the verve. Hope you’ve made yourself a drink.