Bakery tales - part 1

I was a baker on and off for around 13 years and met some real characters during those years - many were "qualified" bakers, meaning that they had achieved their City & Guilds qualifications, which are vocational qualifications completed by attending a college course while working several days a week, but in my experience the "degrees" were awarded rather too easily, and the level, in many cases, was very basic! I worked in a variety of bakery environments, from running my family craft bakery, to supermarket in-house (almost production line) baking, including one chain that introduced bake-off units, so no doughs were processed in the stores.
In all those years I met maybe one other baker who I would have given a job to without any hesitation, but the remaining workers would have struggled to meet my standards and gain my trust! Many of the managers and foremen I met along the way were also woefully sub-standard, even though some had passed "in-house" training as well - and there were also quite a few business owners who had no clue what they, or their staff were doing!
Here are a few anecdotes of my experiences.

1. Hit and Run.
My bakery assistant at one bakery needed a vehicle to get to work, so his best friend, who introduced him to me, sold him an old Morris Minor. Three days later he ran into the bakery at starting time, out of breath, and in a bit of a state, and told me he had gone to fill up the car and driven into another car as he left the garage forecourt - he panicked and ran off. He had not yet registered the car in his name, nor purchased insurance, so he called his friend and asked that when the Police called (as it was still registered to him!) he deny knowledge of who he sold the car to, and that he had sold it for cash in a pub! I was not that impressed by this, but we had work to do, so we started production.
Less than 30 minutes later the phone rang so I went to answer it - it was Jim's father (who was an Army Captain), who simply said "Tell Jim the Police are on the way! They called here and I told them where he works." A few minutes later there is a knock on the door, so I went and there were two Policeman standing there - I just opened the door and invited them in. Jim was still working, and they let us continue while asking questions, so they asked him if he was driving at the time of the accident. He admitted the offence and explained that he had panicked, but wanted to know how they got on to him so quickly - it was under an hour since the incident. They started chuckling - and asked if he remembered leaving anything in the car. He replied that he thought he had left his work shoes - so they produced his Filofax, with all his personal information, and a cheque book that he had left in the car. It took them only a few minutes to find his home phone number and his father had given up the work address, so it was one of the easiest "crimes" they had ever solved - and they congratulated him for owning up so readily and that this would help him out. He would probably get away with a small fine and an agreement to repair the other car. We never even paused in our work while this was going on!

2. Training for Success.
When we first decided to open a bakery I needed to find somewhere to do my "training", so we first went to a small new rural bakery suggested to us by a bacon representative (who knew both parties). He set up the meeting and my Dad and I drove out to the place, and got out of the car to wait for Reg, the Rep, to arrive. The bakery was set a little way away from the grocery shop also owned by them, and we noticed that someone inside the shop kept looking out at us. Just before Reg arrived a lady came out armed with a broom and demanded to know "what the hell" we were doing - we were standing at a road junction on public land!! It turned out that she was concerned we were a picket line, as the factory bakeries were on strike at the time (which was part of the reason we decided to try our hand at baking ourselves), but Reg's arrival defused the situation, although our visit was fruitless as the baker said he was too busy, and not experienced enough, to train anyone.
Next attempt was equally fruitless - this time my Mum and I visited a small bakery on the outskirts of Norwich, but were met with much suspicion, and again the remark that they didn't feel "qualified" to train anyone!
Fortunately the third bakery was more accommodating - the owner simply asked where we were going to be operating (over 8 miles away in a village outside the city) and agreed that I could come along the following Friday night and meet his 2 night bakers. John and Cyril were delightful old fellows - both around 60 years of age, and more than happy to pass on their knowledge to a youngster (I was 26!), and within minutes I was trying to get to grips with different types of doughs, and unfamiliar machinery (some of which I never saw the like of again!). I have always been a quick learner and was soon moulding dough into different shapes, and learning the processes, which they agreed I could write down, including recipes!
Cyril was a heavy smoker, and in fact smoked in the bakery,which was against all sorts of Health & Safety laws, placing the lit cigarette on the edge of the bench where we were working between puffs! He had badly nicotine stained fingers from his smoking, but proudly showed me how the coarse multi-grain doughs "cleaned " this off for him!
I went back the following Friday night for a second "lesson" and they were suitably impressed by what I had learnt and remembered - those two night shifts with these "old boys" were my only "formal" training I ever had, and were sufficient for me to feel confident enough to continue and open our own bakery!
Over 10 years later I happened to take a job with this same bakery, but now under new ownership, and John was still there (Cyril had succumbed to a smoking related illness!), now in his 70's. He was still working night shift, but now doing confectionery, and still working harder than most of the young bakers there - he immediately recognised me and proudly announced that he taught me how to bake, and I only needed 2 nights!

3. "What are you going to do? Fire me?"
After we sold the family bakery on my parents' retirement I worked for a variety of small bakeries, not one of which had owners/management who had any clue what they were doing - they didn't make very good bread (and we had to follow their recipes!), nor were they any good at running a business.
One such bakery was run by two friends - one was a halfway decent confectioner (but a terrible manager) and the other a former merchant seaman cook, who was a terrible baker, and an even worse manager! On nights we were pretty much left alone and simply got on with things - there were 4 of us consisting 2 bakers, an oven man (who was actually underage, but that was not something the owners worried about!), and a packer. The packer, Mark, was a bricklayer by trade, but needed the work, and was a decent hardworking young man.
Eventually Mark found a daytime job on a construction site for much more money, so he handed in his notice - or rather he wrote a letter and pinned in to the office door as we rarely saw the owners. None of us had formal contracts, which was against the law, so there was also no formal process for handing in notice, or even a legal requirement to do so as there was no contract stating the terms and conditions! However he gave them the normal 7 days notice (as we were paid weekly that was the "law" in the absence of a formal condition, which, as it was a Thursday night (well they would get it Friday morning), meant he would finish the following Thursday at the end of the shift.
We heard nothing more, however the following Thursday, Jimmy, one of the managers, was in the bakery when we arrived, so Mark asked him when he would get his final pay (plus any accrued holiday pay - but as we had no contracts we didn't know how much we were entitled to!), and Jimmy said that he had to work Friday as well to complete his week. Mark argued that as he had handed his notice in BEFORE the Friday shift this wasn't the case, and he was finishing that night.
Jimmy started screaming and shouting (as was his wont - he was a bully) and saying that as he didn't get the note till a short while ago (hadn't noticed it pinned to the outside of the locked office door!) it only "started" when he got it. Mark again reiterated that this was not his fault, and that he had complied with the law, but Jimmy again said he had to work another shift to complete the notice period. Calm as a cucumber Mark said "Well, I am finishing tonight, and if you don't like it .... you can fire me!"
Jimmy totally lost it at this stage - he grabbed a large nylon rolling pin and started thumping the stainless steel workbench with it, putting a huge dent in it! The rest of us were trying hard not to laugh out loud at this performance, which was hilarious. Mark just stood there calmly until Jimmy stopped beating the bench, and then asked "Do I finish my shift and get paid for the week, or am I sacked?" Jimmy simply walked out, and we all got back to work.
This wasn't the only occasion that Jimmy lost the plot!