I rushed into the kitchen only to find my chef dicing the carrots gently as though there was no sense of urgency attached to his job.
‘What!’ I cried in utter amazement, ‘don’t you realize my party is about to start?’
‘Please allow me finish my cooking,’ he answered without a trace of remorse.
Amidst my rantings, my chef ignored me and kept turning the chicken from one side of the saucepan to the other.
‘Could you please pass me the tomatoes?’ he spoke gently.
‘Wait a minute, chef; don’t tell me you’ve not even blended the tomatoes. Do you want to ruin my party?
‘The tomatoes, please!’ he repeated.
I handed him the tomatoes…then looking through the window…
Ah, my guests are here already! I froze.
‘Chef, what do you want me to do?’
‘Please, I need full concentration,’ he replied.
‘But what do I tell my guest?’
‘Tell them you are not r-e-a-d-y!’ he emphasized.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Please, leave this kitchen!’ he ordered me out.
With a feeling of regret, I just explained the situation of things to my guests. One by one, I watched in sadness as they left in disappointment.
‘Chef!’ I ran back to the kitchen.
This time around, my chef was very busy that he paid little attention to me. Drawn by the aroma of the food, I opened the bowl containing the chicken, ready to help myself…
‘Hey, it’s not yet time!’ he held my arms.
‘Please, let me just have a taste,’ I requested.
‘No tasting yet until the food is cooked to my specifications,’ he insisted.
I stormed out angrily into my room. And then it dawned on me that I have not even made my hair for the party!
Oh, dear! What was I thinking about in the first place?
I dashed to the salon. And just as I was done, I remembered my party dress was still with the laundry man!
Whoops! I think I deserve some serious spanking.
I drove off immediately. No thanks to the traffic on the way. But luckily for me, the washer man was about to close shop for the day when I arrived.
Afterwards, I sorted out other nitty-gritties. And just when I was feeling thankful for the delay and the much I had accomplished with it, my chef tapped me by the shoulder.
‘I’m done. Your party can now begin.!’
The party swung into action in no short time. My guests were treated to an array of dishes.
The look of satisfaction on their faces as they relished the meal, spoke volumes.
‘What a sumptuous meal!’ one of the guests remarked.
‘Beyond the good food, Nasa, you’re really looking gorgeous!’ another added, ‘and as for that business proposal you submitted in my company some months ago, consider it a done deal.’
‘All thanks to my chef.’
I looked around me and somewhere at a corner of the room, I found my chef watching the entire drama with smiles.
And then with tears streaming down my eyes, I walked up to him.
‘Thumbs up, chef; it was worth the wait!