Yesterday we went and saw Dad at the seismic camp after a trip to the Keşan bazaar. While we were there one of the guys in the room got on his cell phone and we heard him order alti çay (Alta chai) or 6 teas. Minutes later two guys came in carrying a tray with six glass cups of tea. One for everyone except Sam who had been missed, he was now asked if he wanted çay or cola, he said cola and of went one 'minion'. Meanwhile at a gesture from one of the other Turks his companion took the bucket of what I'm assuming was ashes out of the stove. They were in and out after that tending the fire, delivering Sam's cola, and taking away our empty cups, as well as delivering turkish chestnuts to be roasted on the heater top. (they weren't bad) And cleaning up the mess of shells we left.
Starting to see why we call them minions?
The curtain man also had his minion or "curtain boy" as Mom called him who basically followed him around, more like job shadowing thing.
The plumber didn't have a minion when he came the second time. Well not in every sense of the word. The other guy was not much younger than the boss who is not a young guy. But he played "step and fetch it" pretty well going downstairs to get a tape measure and another time to borrow Mom and Dad's slippers to walk on the wet bathroom floor. (the floor was wet because they had flooded it)
In short, if you are anyone who is anyone then chances are you have a minion or two.
The only problem is, where in Canada can I find a minion?