Lunch was just over. I had served quite a bit of steak tartare and Caesar salad again. I pushed all the small poufs, specially made to place a bag on, into a corner again, put the leftover dishes in the wash, and replaced my used apron with a new one. It was my second week of internship at Cartier Sud in the service. I had already spent five weeks in the kitchen at the same restaurant. There, besides cooking well, I also learned that I always had to cover my drink glass, otherwise a bottle of sambal would be thrown in by one of my colleagues. And that I shouldn't sit crouched for too long if I wanted to grab something from a lower kitchen cabinet. Otherwise, it could very well be that a thick, wet sponge was placed under your butt. Someone just had to pull you back a little and splash, there you were. And to make it all a bit more pleasant, I was sprayed from head to toe with a fire hose on my last day in the kitchen. It seemed to be part of it all.

In the restaurant, especially business people came to lunch during the day and many guests from the neighborhood in the evening. Almost everyone I saw coming in had been in the glossy Beau Monde at least once. Nothing wrong with that. Quite nice even. I'm just trying to sketch the audience a bit.

The place was empty and I started on my mise en place. Replacing tea lights, polishing cutlery, polishing glasses, refilling sugar bowls, that kind of chores. We were fully booked for the evening. We weren't allowed to take any more tables. I, in my second week of service, had just learned to answer the phone properly and how the reservation book worked. That wasn't too difficult. I saw it myself too. We were completely full.

The phone rang.

‘Good afternoon, restaurant Quartier Sud, you are speaking with Jet.’.

‘Yes hello, you are speaking with Johan Cruyff. I would like to make a reservation for tonight.’

I was silent for a moment. A little panic overcame me, because I didn't quite know what to do. No more reservations could be accepted for today, it echoed in my head. But that would mean that Mr. Cruyff would hear ‘no’ for the first time in his life. From me!

‘Do you have a moment, sir?’ Just that alone. He probably hadn't experienced that often either.

I nervously walked to the chef with the question of whether we could perhaps make an exception. That was the dumbest thing I could have asked. Yes, of course there was space.

Even the pastry chef shouted: ‘That seems logical to me!’

That evening I unfortunately had to disappoint another family (who came to eat very often), because they would not get the best table that evening, as they were used to from us. But well, every disadvantage has its advantage, because they were nicely seated next to the Cruyff family that evening.