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Seville



Mauricio and Jorge
Seville, Spain, 2002—

Mauricio spoke English. Jorge, his assistant manager at Restaurante Mex Rock, spoke English, but not as well as Mauricio.

Mauricio hired me when I didn't speak Spanish. He did right for me in that way; and I can't deny it.

C_, an Argentinian friend of mine from Cafe Levies, had worked for Mauricio, and called him "un explotador." And that was true.

Jorge was a very friendly Sevillano who did Mauricio's bidding, and watched to make sure of such details as that everyone stayed busy and didn't eat on the job.

J_, a fellow cook, called Jorge "pelota" which translates as "ball." She did a brilliant imitation of tennis, and an excellent "pop" sound with it. She also called him "Smithers," ("Sm[ee]ver,") to Mauricio's "Mr. Burns" ("Señor Ban.")

E_, another cook, called him "Jorge de la Selba," (or "George of the jungle,") but affectionately, and for no particular reason.

—I worked at el restaurante Mex Rock for a few months in the Spring of 2001.

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