Breakfast

I was ready and downstairs at seven the next morning as usual, and immediately started to put out everything in the conservatory where breakfast was served. I had thought that my new bosses would be down with me, but it was about twenty passed seven, and I had finished just laying the breakfast tables, when Jo came in, all regal superiority! She walked around like some very high bred fighting cock, her eyes darting from one thing to the other. Then Harry, the young boy ambled in, all sleepy eyed, but dressed for school.
'Christine!', this in a drawling, high pitched voice! I looked at the woman, sensing that I had a problem coming, but as everything was perfect, I couldn't see what she would carry on about. She walked over to the table where the stuff for breakfast was laid out. The woman demeaned herself enough to bring her nose down a wee bit, looked from me to the glasses on the table, then drawled: 'I prefer to use wine glasses for the juices' I almost swooned, as it is just not the done thing to use wine glasses for breakfast orange, so I told her very nicely that all the better hotels use whiskey glasses.
Of course with me not meekly agreeing to use the wine glasses, she immediately took it as a slight on her ownership. I like to do things like all the other inns and hotels do, and of course she became as rigid as a bally telephone pole, and told me in a very autocratic and drawling voice to please change the glasses!
As it was now past seven thirty, and I still had to prepare breakfast, I told her in a sweet but coldish voice that if she wanted the glasses changed, she and Harry will have to do it, as I really had to start on the breakfast immediately, or I wouldn't be ready for the guests.
She opened her mouth to say something, but I swept out of the room, and when I later returned to put out the juices and yogarts, she was very haughty, and the whiskey glasses were changed to big redwine goblets! I actually hated wine glasses for my juice, but as she is now the owner, I let it go. She would eventually learn that using small whiskey glasses are not only nicer, but much less expensive, seeing that she used the big wine glasses!
I was busy cutting up the small white button mushrooms, when in the "lady" swept, and after having inspected all I have prepared, her eyes fell on me and the mushrooms. She rolled her eyes a few times in utter disgust, then told me in an extra drawling voice: 'Christine, I prefer the mushrooms peeled!' Cor blimey, I nearly pitched over stone bally cold from pure shock!
When I recovered from my shock she was still looking at me with that kind of challenging look, and I got MAD, gave her the bluntest knife, and told her that if she wanted the mushrooms peeled, she had better do it herself, and fast, as the people were already coming down, and I definitily did not have the time.
She kind of floated out of the kitchen without another word, and that was the last I ever heard of peeling the mushrooms.
She watched me like a hawk preparing every plate of food instead of giving her time to the guests, and I was beginning to be very uncomfortable, and decided to talk to Tony, and if we could not work things out, I would go to the other hotel, who had already asked me.