Wednesday, June 21, 2017

I answered the call from an unknown number. I barely recognized Paul's voice. He said he was bleeding and waiting for an ambulance. I was in pajamas. F ran to the piazza. It turned out that the restaurant let Paul leave six hours earlier with a deep cut. He is a bit on the hypochondriacal side and the sight of blood makes him ill. I would have been equally upset in his situation. His Italian speaking roommate called an ambulance because he was faint and complaining of a headache. On the phone, he was telling me that he believed glass or porcelain or something had gotten under his skin. F rode in the ambulance with him after the misericordia bandaged him up. At the hospital he was given a blue code which is the last priority. F went back with the car and advised him not to wait all night for stitches. F said that the triage guy was scornful and practically spit when he gave him the order. 

He now has gotten two days off from work. He is still not being paid in a timely manner, which is disgraceful. 

Khadim is back in Pisa. The chef called to tell me that his experience with refugees is that most don't look ahead to their future and so they don't want to work harder than necessary to make an investment in career advancement down the line. He said he was sorry it didn't work out for Khadim. But he was not at all surprised. Restaurant work is not the right choice for him, he said. 

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