Captain Delicious

One morning on my way to work I was passed by Grant Gibellini in his mustard yellow Triumph 2000, which was a big relief because I was on foot and he picked me up. I had not only got my brother a job in the hothouse but also his mate Grant, and our friends Mike and David Haythornthwaite. I’m not quite sure why my boss needed so many positions filled, but paying us only $4 per hour, he virtually could have afforded to start white slavery. The hothouse job wasn’t the only job I recruited my mates for. As a first-year university student I got a part-time job in the city at a new fish and chip shop called Captain Delicious. It was in, I think, Auckland’s first ever food hall, down the bottom of the BNZ Tower. Despite bringing with them their own secret fish batter recipe, the owners – brothers Bing and Ben – had hired a professional chef to make salads for the salad bar, and it wasn’t long before he was passing on his salad-making skills to me. Next thing I'd finished uni for the year (and also for good – my bachelor of science was boring me to tears) and I was working full-time as master and commander of Captain Delicious, rocking up there early every morning to boil eggs, pasta and spuds for the egg, pasta and potato salads, and also mastering tabouleh and fish frying. The office consisted of a phone/fax tucked in a corner near the door and my brother and I still joke about seeing one of the owners on a number of occasions having intimate phone chats with his (we assume) girlfriend, standing up but trying to minimize the appearance of a front-bulge in his pants.