Today In The Cafe... You Never Regret Kindness

Today in the cafe... An older couple came into the cafe just after the kitchen had technically closed. They wanted some hot food. They liked the look of the soup. Sometimes you get a feeling about people, they just need some soup and a warm and quiet place to sit. I said yeah, sure, of course we're still open. The husband thanked me and apologised, saying they would have been here three hours earlier, but they had been stuck in St Vincent's Hospital. They loved the soup. I don't know their story, but I do know they needed that soup and that time out in a quiet and warm place more than I needed to go home.

Short time later, a paramedic walks in, clearly ready to walk back out again because clearly, we are closed.

Are you closed? she asks.

Yes we are closed, I tell her, but what were you after?

Just a couple of coffees...

An imploring look.

Of course I can do you a couple of coffees.

She was so grateful because, she told me, she had had such a busy day and had been trying to get coffee for most of the day but just didn't get the chance.

A paramedic's busy day isn't quite the same as a barista's busy day.

I was happy to end the day on two acts of kindness, because as a friend just pointed out, you never regret kindness.

Specks In This Cosmic Storm Of Chance

This is us, New Year's Day 2018. The Dreaded One and me, we made it through a struggle of a year. I don't really know how I made it. The urge for non-existence was strong early in the year. That urge never really leaves. It has always been part of me. It gets close, and it fades away.

But the survivor in me has never given into that urge. Partly because I know moments like this are possible in the future. Grumpy and The Dreaded One, they seem to be making each other happy again. When we're good, we totally fucking rock. After all this time, we still make each other laugh, and we still hold hands.  Humans and that freakish chance encounter thing... The Dreaded One was born three days after me in San Francisco. I was born three days before her in Sydney. What are the chances of us bumping into each other years later? What are the chances of us liking each other enough to eventually love each other for all these years? We're all just specks in a cosmic storm of chance.

And Marciano on my right in this picture is a perfect demonstration. She wrote the perfect job application for the position of working with me in the cafe. Perfect because it spoke to me. As with a previous co-worker, April, I kind of knew from those words on the page that something was there. Some beautiful connection. I was right both times. Both have become treasured friends.

Today was Marciano's last day. I have enjoyed every minute of her company.  We share a gentle, quirky sense of humour. We have made each other happy. We have hugged a couple of times a day, but today's last hug was a long and tight one, and I don't mind telling you that when she said into my shoulder, "Lee... my big brother"... well I might have teared up a bit.

What are the chances? What are the chances that a person born in Uruguay 25 years before a person born in Sydney will bump into each other in Melbourne one day and share such a silly sense of humour and become such close friends? What are the chances, in this cosmic storm of chance?

AnaNA Siniestro

Today in the cafe... I don't really need another nickname or alter ego or personality, and yet...

This is my much loved current co-worker, Martina. I call her My Favourite Martian because of the anagram of her name. She is a treasure. She is a great worker, is great company, is a friend, and every day when she brings her sunshine personality into the cafe - as with The Dreaded One's assistant Jodie - I feel incredibly grateful that fate brought us together.

But the nickname thing. I'm learning Uruguyan Spanish, and apparentlyy my nickname is Anana Siniestro.

Sounds cool, huh? It's got a rhythm. It's got a beat. You can chant it... AnaNA Siniestro... AnaNA siniestro... AnaNa siniestro...

So primitive. So tribal.

So what you are probably wondering, if you do not speak the Uruguyan version of Spanish, does it mean?

It appears to mean "Weird Pinapple." Or maybe "Sinister Pineapple.

So. There you go.

Peace, Hugs & Harmony In The Workplace

Beauty in our banged up little cafe... Recently two people applied for the position of Grumpy's helper. One person had superior coffee skills. The other had few coffee skills, but she had something. Both are lovely people. The Dreaded One advised that I should look after me, and so my head went with the person with the coffee skills.

Funny, though, my heart was wishing that the other person had scored the job. There had been a moment during her trial shift when I glanced across and she was looking in the other direction, not knowing she was being watched - drew in a big, slow, eyes-closed breath, and breathed it out again. She was feeling so completely at home in our little cafe. I really wanted to be able to give her the job because she was miserable at the restaurant she was working at. I'd ask her about it, and she would deflate as she talked about it. The cafe, however, seemed to make her happy. Properly happy.

Complications and complications and although I gave the coffee skills person the job, and although I know she would have been great and I would have enjoyed working with her, she turned the offer down.

So now this sweet stranger from Uruguay has the job. We work well together. The Dreaded One and Heart-Shaped Lollipop Girl adore her. The customers love her. I have chosen well, again.
But the beautiful moment... today after a long-weekend because of a football game, I asked how her weekend had been.

"Oh," she told me, that never faraway smile emerging, "The weekend was so long. I missed coming into the cafe."

Cigarettes After Sex

Today in the cafe... my new front of house helper Nøraa and I were working away during a lull in customers. Out of the blue, she struck up conversation with, "So eeeh... you know cigarettes after sex?" Spoken in that hybrid French/Spanish accent.

"Erm... yeah?" I replied, thinking that she was asking if I was aware that people enjoy smoking cigarettes after having sex but not having any idea where she was going with it.

She nodded slowly almost to herself. "Mmm. Is good."

"Okay."

I waited for a while, thinking there was more to come. Maybe the results of a new study or something. I don't know. But that appeared to be it. Apparently she had just wanted to tell me that she enjoys a cigarette after a good bonk. Which is cool. That's fine. Random as hell, but fine.

"So..." I asked eventually, "What made you share that with me?"

"What?"

"That you like smoking after having sex."

"No the band that is playing this song. It is Cigarettes After Sex. Is good."

"Oh. Oh I see."

Farewell Bendy Giraffe Girl

Today in the cafe... well for a while now in the cafe... the departure of my latest front-of-house teammate, Bendy Giraffe Girl, has been approaching and now is finally here after six months. April has been a dream co-worker. We've reached that level of working together where we just kind of morph around each other and operate as a single blob of efficiency. In the beginning I was kind of possessive of my work space, but for a while now it's been a bit of a free-for-all as to what task each is doing and how the other slots blobbily (mostly gracefully blobbily) in to what is going on. It's a trust thing. It's a mental telepathy thing. Sure, sometimes she startles me with a random spillage or breakage, and yes she has often SCARED THE FUCKING BEJESUS OUT OF ME BY JUST SUDDENLY BEING THERE NINJA-LIKE-RIGHT BEHIND ME AS I TURN AROUND expecting void only to be confronted by SURPRISE BENDY GIRAFFE GIRL!!!

It was her last day today, but she has kindly offered to come in to help out tomorrow, because that's the kind of person she is.

I had a replacement lined up. All was good. New Person seemed fine. We did some trial shifts. All was good. I turned down so many other offers and resumes because all was good. I threw out all those resumes. One person, Spanish Norina, had been so persistent but ultimately couldn't make a trial shift which is why New person got the gig. I had been disappointed by this because Norina had The Vibe. I like The Vibe.

Late on Sunday, New Person texted to say that she had, after all, decided to take another job.

Fuckity fuck.

I know it's just a banged up little cafe, and I know it's a first world problem, but I've had such a good run of co-workers. Recently Team Awesome with April and Jodie has been pretty perfect, so I've been spoiled. I had three days to find someone to fill Bendy Giraffe Girl's big, threadbare and holey shoes. It's been a stressful couple of days.

I asked if Norina was available for a shift today. She was. She came in. There is a slight language barrier again, but within minutes I felt The Vibe. She starts tomorrow and seems so very happy to have the job. Feedback from the others is that she has a good vibe about her. I think things will be all right. Stressful days ahead until we find our blobby morphiness, but I'm sure we'll find it. Hopefully she won't frighten the fuck out of me by sneaking up on me as often as BGG did.

But I shall miss my Bendy Giraffe Girl. How lucky I was that she slid that awesome resume under the cafe door that day when the cafe was closed. How happy I am that she has become a good friend, and a good friend to many of my friends. How grateful I am for the conversations, both serious and silly. I've learned things from her and laughed with her in the quiet times and in the after-work times.

I hate goodbyes. But some goodbyes are the result of the most beautifully unexpected hellos.

Today In The Cafe... The Anger Experiment

Today in the cafe... The friendship between Grumpy and Kafka Woman is quite a unique and unlikely thing, filled with unique and unlikely conversations and occurrences that sometimes perplex both of them as well as their co-workers and the cafe's customers. It's not uncommon for some random conversation to unfold into a practical joke or series of social experiments that leave customers scratching their head, smirking in bewilderment or simply laughing, even though they are not quite sure what exactly it is that they are laughing at.

Kafka Woman has now become the very masculine Diego Belafonte. Grumpy has become Diego's adorably feminine sister, Tallulah Belafonte. Under the circumstances, this is a perfectly normal development. Sometimes, things just are what they are and it's best not to question their nature. Sometimes, you just have to roll with the weirdness.

The identical twins Belafonte have had their fair share of arguments, of course, just like all siblings. Some intense shit has gone down, man, but things seem to have settled into a new and peaceful phase.

So peaceful, in fact, that this conversation took place:

So, erm, my rugged twin brother Diego...

Yes my adorably feminine twin sister Tallulah? What's on that delicate flowerbed of a mind of yours?

I was just thinking that I don't think I am capable of being angry with you any more.

Ohhhh... that's so adorably and perfectly in keeping with that sweet feminine Goddess nature of yours.

Thank you, you Viking of a man-brother you. The thing is, I think we should conduct an experiment.

Oh wow. You know how much I like a good experiment. Tell me about this experiment.

Well... I think to prove this hypothesis, you should try to make me angry with you.

Hmm.

Yes. Just do random things at unexpected moments that you think will make me angry with you.

I like the sound of this experiment. A lot. I mean – a LOT! I'll have to keep a diary of what I have done, how angry I think this thing will make you and how angry – if at all – it has actually made you.

Indeed. I love your attention to detail. And maybe how long the anger – if indeed there is any anger – lasts.

We've conducted quite a few fun experiments in the last eight months that we have been lifelong identical twins with different accents, but this is by far the most fun one. We should start right away.

Okay – ouch! Why did you just poke me in the eye?

How did that make you feel, my most girly of girly girls Tallulah?

Oh I see what you did there. Yeah, that hurt like fuck but nope, not angry.

That's amazing. What if I do this...

No – I think you should be more random and unexpected. And maybe less physically violent, although some physical violence should come into the experiment.

Okay. Fair enough. So dropping things, spilling things, getting customer orders wrong, that sort of thing?

Yeah, just all the things you normally do so well. Although, there is a problem.

Yes my sweetest Tallulah?

The fact that we both know we are conducting this experiment kind of ruins the experiment. You might accidentally do something that should make me angry and I might consciously recall that this experiment is being conducted and consciously not get angry with you. It's not reliably scientific. For it to be a reliably scientific experiment, I would have to be unaware that we were conducting an experiment.

Hmm. I see what you mean. But I think we should try this experiment anyway. Oops – so sorry Tallulah. Did that hurt? Did it make you angry? How angry did it make you? Do you think you will be angry for long? If so, how long?

Kiitos, Kiitos, Kiitos, Kafka Woman

Kafka Woman and Grumpy, last day in the cafe. Sadness. Proper sadness. And proper happiness that it happened at all.

Mel On Tutu Tuesday

Today in the cafe... I was packing the outdoor furniture away and noticed a very cool woman across the road. Amazing dreads, amazing clothes. Wish she'd come into the cafe, I thought as I continued packing down. On my way back outside, Cool Doof Chick appeared in the doorway, carrying the small round outdoor table inside.

"Where do you want this?"

"Erm... there is fine... erm..."

"I'm Mel and I'm here about the job. Nice tutu, by the way. Tutu Tuesday?"

It was the interviewee I had lined up for today in my search for Kafka Woman's replacement. I don't want to get ahead of myself, but based on this first encounter and The Vibe, I think we have a winner.
Which is not to suggest that I am at all happy about losing Kafka Woman. Quietly gutted, would be a better description.

Spy Stories In The Little Cafe Of Awesome

Today in the cafe... there's a regular I've been curious about for a while. What does he do? He seems like a stay at home person but he wears good casual clothes. He seems casually successful. What does he do?

I suggested to Kafka Woman the idea that we somehow follow him back after he has collected his large latte with one sugar.

Mystery Large Latte With One Sugar enters. Kafka Woman's eyes widen as I start to make his coffee.


"Can I follow him? I've always wanted to be a spy. I think I'd make a good spy."

"A good spy needs a good disguise," I advise her sagely.

"Okay. Where's my disguise?"

I point to the curly little moustache stuck to the mirror, a remnant of Moustache Mondays (yes, we are that kind of cafe). Kafka Woman is onto it. She dons her disguise and her jacket and Grumpy is immediately all "whoa - where is Kafka Woman? Who is this person with the little curly moustache who I've never seen before?"

With that, Kafka Woman is in pursuit of our mystery guy.

Upon Kafka Woman's return, we debrief. Mystery guy went left down Gertrude, right into Fitzroy Street, then left down a little cul de sac. As Kafka Woman started to cross Fitzroy, Mystery Guy started walking back toward her, whereupon she drew upon all her spy skills and sneakily hid behind a tree, much to the bemusement of the people in the parked car next to the tree... why is that moustached woman in a fluffy jacket hiding spy-like behind that tree? Is she an actual spy? She sure looks like an actual spy. We think she must be an actual spy.

Kafka Woman took off her little curly moustache (Oh shit THERE you are, said Grumpy) and hung it back on the mirror.

"It was like he entered some kind of time-space portal... I lost him. But I am a professional. Trust me, Grumpy, I WILL get to the bottom of this."

I am happy to say that this is a true story with mostly actual dialogue. I laughed about this almost as much as I did about the weirdly broken thermometer... but that's a whole other story.

The Silver Lining

Bad day in the cafe. Look at how many people are not there.

But Kafka Woman was there. This was a fun day in spite of things.

I am big hugs grateful.

If explanation is needed, this is a photo of Grumpy taking a photo of Kafka Woman dancing behind Lucky Cat with a Woo Hoo Cup balanced on its head, obviously. Many months ago Kafka Woman was a stranger who wandered into the cafe and sat in that blue chair on the left of your screen and read my short story Remembering Argos, and a connection was made. It was a very random encounter that like all such rare, random encounters has lead to beautiful things.

Laughter In Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome

Kafka Woman has become a reasonably important feature of my life at the moment. We work together every day now. She is great to work with. When she first came into my life I thought it was a one-off encounter. Both times she came to the cafe after that, I thought they were the last times I would see her. You might remember that I spoke of her peace and serenity.

I liked her instantly, even though I didn't know her. I didn't know then that I would be working with her.

What I really, really didn't know - probably not until quite some time into working with her - was how much of our time would be spent laughing. I tend to say that I am not a laugher. I'm going to have to stop saying that, because when I am with Kafka Woman (Loredana), I am quite the laugher. And it's a wonderful thing. Proper, uncontrollable laughter. The stuff that kids enjoy. The sound of their laugh is making you worse. Just don't look at them - not even in your peripheral vision - and you might just get this fit of laughter under control.

We talk about a lot of life stuff. We're like friends. Something on your mind? Want to talk about it? Or we just talk about what we got up to on the weekend or the night before. We talk about music and writing and great books we've read. The conversation is pretty well rounded. Whimsy features frequently.

We get interrupted a lot... A LOT... by customers. Kafka Woman suggested that we might need a sign to tell customers that they cannot enter because we are talking. The above sign came to me and I wrote it up intending to just show her for a laugh. We laughed. Then I put it up on the door. The reactions from the customers was a source of laughter for the rest of the day. That day (yesterday), I have never spent so much time on any job laughing.

She has a joyous, infectious laugh, does Kafka Woman. And that's the thing with laughter - it really is infectious. At one point both of us were useless with laughter. I was struggling to make one of the regulars their coffee. I kept trying to compose myself, but I'd hear Kafka Woman sqeak with repressed laughter, and I was fucked all over again.

I wiped a tear from my eye as I turned to give the customer her coffee and told her, "Man that was hard work." When I looked at her, she was chuckling. She had no idea what we were laughing about, but she was laughing. She thanked me and turned to leave, and she was still giggling to herself as she left the cafe.

I am still feeling residual happiness today. I've always known that laughter is good. It's why I like to write funny stuff. To actually indulge in it a lot though... man, it's better than drugs.

Tutu Tuesday In Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome

In keeping with Moustache Monday, we had Tutu Tuesday. Big hit with the customers. Tomorrow is French Friday, because it's Badaboom Beverley's last day. I shall miss her, although there are still plans to work on our duet of Solitary Man.

Still can't believe I sang with a musician playing an instrument and that she wants to do it again.

Moustache Monday In Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome

I don't know which of my boys is more handsome - Kafka Woman or Badaboom Beverley. (Love these two).

Tutu Tuesday tomorrow. Yes, Grumpy will be wearing a tutu.

Grumpy's Angels

I just love days like today. I am surrounded by gorgeous souls in this photo who all work so hard in the cafe. Viola, on my far left, is a friend who helps out in staff shortages. She is a great worker and lovely presence. She gave me an early morning guerilla hug this morning because of something I wrote about the person immediately to my right, who you might know as Kafka Woman. She likes to hug hello and goodbye if possible every day. I have no problem with this.

The person to my immediate left (yeah, she gets her own new paragraph), that's Badaboom Beverley. She's the one who suggested the Front-Of-House head design in the photo. Don't worry - revenge is already sorted. It's going to be so fun.

After work, Badaboom brought her banjo (she makes this creature sound so beautiful) back to the cafe after closing, and we kind of worked on a song. I have never sung in front of another person other than The Dreaded One. I am relaxed with Miss BB and even suggested the concept of a re-interpretation of this song. I was a chilled motherfucker until it came time to actually sing. I sang along to two versions of this song, a song I normally sing along to so well in the shower. But now, my hands shook a little, and I butchered the song. Twice! Go me!

Badaboom Beverley shrugged it off, we sat down and started tooling around with this song. We tried different ways of doing things. I realised singing quietly but in tune is more important than belting the vocals out. I learned I don't have a clue about music. I learned that there are things called chords. I realised that I don't know what do do with a chord or where the best place to put one is.

We also talked about this song. Why does he go faster here? Why is the chorus so upbeat when it's song about sadness? Is it in fact a song about sadness? It was so cool to try to get an understanding of a song, to really get to its heart and then to try to understand what we want out of our interpretation of it and how to go about executing that.

That Portuguese word saudade... I have always felt that about my creative partner... where are you? I have my perfect life partner, but in all my creative endeavours I have been a solitary man, always vaguely missing someone who isn't there. But here we were, two former strangers sitting in an empty cafe, sharing knowledge, playing with and discussing ideas and making notes about a text and a piece of music.

For me, this was a taste of this creative partnership thing, and it was quite beautiful.

Never Better Than This

Today in the cafe... a former regular customer reappeared unexpectedly. She used to come in almost every day and buy one of our tuna wraps for lunch. The only time she deviated from this was when she bought two tuna wraps. Before she stopped being a regular she told us that her office had been relocated to Abbotsford - a couple of suburbs away - and so she wouldn't be in anymore... She said goodbye and I think wanted to let us know the reason for her sudden disappearance.

Today she said she could take it any more She really wanted one of our tuna wraps and so jumped into a cab to get to the cafe and back in her lunch break. Apparently they're pretty good, our tuna wraps.

Then a little later, that woman a while ago who didn't exactly endear herself to me by telling me that a smile doesn't cost anything? She's been in a few times since and I always get a laugh out of Badaboom Beverley by snarling at her appearance.

When I delivered her coffee to her, she was reading one of my stories to her husband. She stopped reading and told me that she was really enjoying the one about the time I held the stranger's hand at the festival. She thought it was hilarious. She also loved the one about the time I was on the Amalfi Coast. We had a bit of a chat and a quiet laugh. Was not expecting that.

Later, Ann's helper told me, "That woman up there was reading your stuff as I walked past. She stopped me, put the stories to her chest and said 'I'm loving these stories. I really love them.'"

Before she left, the old lady approached and told us she wanted a photo of "Grumpy and The Dreaded One and you two. I don't want Grumpy to smile for the photo."

Much laughter, from us, many smiles from the full cafe as bemused customers looked on, but Grumpy, The Dreaded One, Badaboom Beverley and Kafka Woman bunched up for the photo. As directed, I didn't smile.

Well done little old lady - you somehow went from being a sour little thing to being a wonderfully quirky individual. Respect.

And as deeply happy as I was, I was a little sad too because I was pretty sure that life in our banged up little cafe was never going to be better than this.

Nothing Worth Writing About Happened Today. Nothing.

Today in the cafe... there were no poignant human interactions and not a single funny thing happened. It was basically just an infuriating day of totally normal and nice. People smiled and enjoyed their food and coffee, and there was pleasant small-talk with the regulars and all of our co-workers got a long really well... days like these, they shit me to tears. Come on Universe - give me some Goddamn material!

Small And Unexpected Gifts To Strangers

In the cafe today... lady comes in with a head-damaged friend she is taking to the hospital for an MRI scan. He goes into the bathroom and is there for quite a long time. (Later, both The Dreaded One and I notice that someone has unwrapped several toilet paper rolls and put them on the handle of the toilet brush, probably because they think this is the way things should be. We think we know who it was).

But back outside in the cafe, this customer starts reading my writing in the back of the menu while she drinks her coffee. I am satisfied with the smile my words bring to her solitude. Eventually she looks up and asks me whose writing entries these are. I tell her they are mine. She tells me how much she is enjoying reading them. Tells me she is here with her brain damaged friend and that they just needed a walk and she needed a coffee, and that she likes the way I structure the writing. She comes across as a former English teacher or something, or maybe just a lifelong reader, someone who appreciates the rhythm and flow of a story.

And she thanks me for making this chance encounter such a delightful experience.

Small and unexpected gift to a stranger with troubles I can't comprehend... highlight of the day.

Solitary Man by Crooked Fingers

Neil Diamond wrote a good song. Crooked Fingers made it better.  Sometimes it comes on in the cafe at the end of the day when we are packing down and closing, and I sing along to it as loudly and as in tune as I can in our empty cafe, and I feel a private happiness.

And So It Was Written: The Lament Of Saint Grumpy

And so it was to pass that all of the last customers of every day for all days to come would be the messiest customers of all the messy customers.

And it was to pass that all of these messiest of all the messiest customers to be the last customers of the day will order hedgehog slices with their lusciously loose toppings of desiccated coconut whose ultimate destination would be at the whim of the slightest of breezes.

And if these last and messiest of all the customers chose not to order the fucking annoyingly messy things called Hedgehog slices, it was depressingly inevitable that their second choice would be a toasted croissant, with its crispy and wonderfully flaky crispy flakiness.

And it would pass that now and forever more that there would forever be unrelenting storms of fucking coconut and fucking croissant flakes long after Saint Grumpy had swept the floor, weeping for the unrelenting eternity of his eternal punishment.