Page 69 - down-and-out-in-paris-and-london

had lost my chance of a job.
Boris, by arrangement, was waiting for me in the Arcade
of the Rue de Rivoli. When I told him what had happened,
he was furious. For the first time since I had known him he
forgot his manners and called me a fool.
‘Idiot! Species of idiot! What’s the good of my finding you
a job when you go and chuck it up the next moment? How
could you be such a fool as to mention the other restaurant?
You’d only to promise you would work for a month.’
‘It seemed more honest to say I might have to leave,’ I
objected.
‘Honest! Honest! Who ever heard of a PLONGEUR be-
ing honest? MON AMI’ —suddenly he seized my lapel and
spoke very earnestly—‘MON AMI, you have worked here all
day. You see what hotel work is like. Do you think a PLON-
GEUR can afford a sense of honour?’
‘No, perhaps not.’
‘Well, then, go back quickly and tell the CHEF DU PER-
SONNEL you are quite ready to work for a month. Say you
will throw the other job over. Then, when our restaurant
opens, we have only to walk out.’
‘But what about my wages if I break my contract?
‘Boris banged his stick on the pavement and cried out
at such stupidity. ‘Ask to be paid by the day, then you won’t
lose a sou. Do you suppose they would prosecute a PLON-
GEUR for breaking Us contract? A PLONGEUR is too low
to be prosecuted.’
I hurried back, found the CHEF DU PERSONNEL, and
told him that I would work for a month, whereat he signed

Down and Out in Paris and London