‘Do not go into the canteen with dirty (work) clothes’, it says in Dutch, English, German and Polish on a plastic-coated A4 sheet. There is a collection of construction helmets on top of the coat rack of the Maxima power plant in Lelystad. On the wall hangs a large printed photo of thirty-seven like-minded men and one woman with their arms folded.
Joke Wiegmink (61) has been running the canteen at the power station of the French energy company Engie for nine years “very tightly”. She can handle fifty men at a time. On Wednesdays she makes a sandwich for everyone. “Erik, without cheese, double fried on white.” She knows what most people want, their egg. “That’s really a slap on my part,” says Joke. An alarm goes off and she quickly removes “the croquettes” from the fat. There are fresh sandwiches with filet americain, a salad with chicken or tuna. If someone has a special wish, Joke is always open to it.
“What are you doing now, Arjen?” says Joke from behind the cash register. Arjen throws half of his chicken curry powder soup next to the bowl. The soup spoon is also a bit too big. Arjen tries to wipe the sticky soup off the stainless steel workbench with half a napkin. “Look, I have saucers here that fit perfectly,” says Joke, handing him a saucer. “Oh well, I don’t understand things like that,” says Arjen.
A croquette sandwich, a bowl of soup, an egg and ham sandwich, a fillet sandwich and a pack of Optimel passion fruit. Stef de Jonge (26) pays Joke twelve euros and sits down with his colleagues with an overfull tray. “So, didn’t you have anything this weekend?”, Jan Vaartjes (60) asks Stef. Stef usually brings his own sandwiches, but today he had nothing in the house.
Ronald Bakker (44) squeezes a bag of sambal into his chicken curry soup. He also works a lot in Belgian power plants. According to Ronald, the soup is free there, but it is “just water”. Things are better here in Lelystad. “I’m really a gourmet,” says Ronald as he takes a sip from a liter carton of long-life skimmed milk. He drums on his stomach: “You can see that in me too.”
A table further away, four men sit talking little. Cards fly across the table. “Trump?” “Windows.” The men all wear a piece of clothing from the PME Legend brand. They play cards every break. Wim Landman (56) occasionally reads the score: “Zeuvenenzeuventig.”
“Do you understand?” asks Erik Brederwold (58). “Most youngsters can’t do it, you guys,” says John Hendriks (64). The only one who can, says John, is Stef. The one from the full tray at the other table. Stef just said that he always wins. “Stef! Liar!” Erik calls to the other table. It’s quiet again. The men actually only have a half-hour break, they have already been over fifteen minutes. Gerard Hilgevoord (64) peels an apple and throws up an ace three times in a row. He reels in the blows with a straight face. “Yes, yes, there is no glory to be had in that,” says Erik.
Wim announces the last round. According to Gerard, Erik is actually the best player. “He can really think about what cards everyone else has, I only look at my own hand.” Gerard’s tactics seem to be working today. Wim and Gerard: 1,940 points. John and Erik: 750.
Some of the staff use the break for a game of Klaverjacks.
Photo Simon Lenskens
