At Rubens, I Discovered the Hidden World Behind Every Restaurant
My first real step toward the world in which I would later work began at a company called Rubens. Rubens supplied equipment and solutions for institutional and commercial kitchens. Restaurants. Hotels. Businesses. Schools. Hospitals. For the first time, I discovered all the technology, planning, and expertise hidden behind every professional kitchen. That is where I met Benoit. He became far more than a colleague to me. I admired his calm, his professional knowledge, and the seriousness with which he carried out every assignment.
He taught me that work done well begins with attention. Not only attention to a piece of equipment. But also to the person who would have to use it. During those years, many installations were converted from town gas to natural gas. It was precise work that carried real responsibility. Every burner had to be adapted and then checked. A small error could have serious consequences. So I did not only learn to work with my hands. I learned to think ahead. To verify. And to accept responsibility for what I left behind.
Some assignments demanded almost the impossible. I remember one period of work that began on a Sunday around six in the evening and did not end until
Wednesday morning at about ten. We had been at work for nearly forty-eight hours. The fatigue was immense. But the installation had to be completed and operate safely. We continued. That work was hard on my body. I had to move equipment. Bend. Lift. Stand for long hours. My back began warning me more and more clearly.
I was young and thought the pain would eventually disappear on its own. But it kept returning. Looking back, I understand that this was the first time my body reminded me that even perseverance has limits. Nevertheless, Rubens gave me a great deal. There I learned to listen to customers. To search for the true cause of a problem. And I learned that service goes far beyond simply delivering a piece of equipment.
During that period, one name increasingly drew my attention. FAEMA. The Italian espresso machines combined technology and beauty. But FAEMA represented something else to me as well. Italy. Cycling. Eddy Merckx and a world that seemed both modern and familiar. I wanted to know those machines. I wanted to understand what made a truly good espresso possible. Little by little, curiosity became a decision. I would not wait for the next door to open by chance before me.
And if no one invited me to knock on that door... then I would go and find it myself.