The lunch had just finished. I had served quite a lot of steak tartare and Ceasar salads. I moved the small tabourets for the guests to put their bags on in the corner, I put the china in the dishwasher, and I replaced my apron for a new one.

It was the second week of my internship serving at Cartier Sud. I had already spent five weeks in the kitchen, where, besides cooking well, I also learnt that I had to cover my drink or else a colleague might add a bottle of sambal. I also learnt that I shouldn’t squat too long when I wanted to get something from the bottom drawer in the kitchen because they might put a very wet sponge under your buttocks. Someone only had to pull you back and splash, there you sat. And to make things a bit more pleasant, I was hosed down from top to bottom on my last day.

It was all part of it.

Mostly business people had lunch in the afternoon, and during the evening it were mostly people that lived in the neighbourhood. But everyone who came in during the morning or afternoon had been featured in Beau Monde. I don’t mind, I even like it.  I’m just trying to give you an impression of the audience.

The place was deserted and I began my mise en place. I replaced candles, I polished up cutlery, glasses, refilled sugar bowls, those types of things. We were completely booked for the evening, and weren’t allowed to accept another table. I had just learnt how to answer the phone correctly – it was my second week – and how the book of reservations worked. Which wasn’t too difficult, I could see that too. We were completely booked. The telephone rang.

“Good afternoon, restaurant Quartier Sud, Jet speaking.”

“Yes hello, this is Johan Cruyff speaking. I’d like to make reservations for tonight.”

I was silent for a moment. I felt rather panicky because I didn’t know what to do. We weren’t allowed to accept other reservations for the day, I told myself silently.

But this would mean that mister Cruyff would get a ‘no’ for the first time in his life. And I would be the one to say it.

“Do you have one moment please?” That alone. He probably also hadn’t experienced this too.

I walked to the chef rather nervously and asked whether we could make an exception. Which was probably the dumbest thing I could’ve ever asked. Of course we could.

Even the patissier called: “Obviously!”

That evening I had to disappoint another family (who were regulars) because they were denied the best table which they usually got. Right, every disadvantage has its advantage because they got to sit next to the family Cruyff.