Conversations With Our Customers: Be Grateful

When you're feeling crabby and pissed off because work's a bitch, you don't have enough hours in the day and someone in your sphere has this really annoying habit that makes you grind your teeth... when you just don't get why things aren't nicer for you and why it wasn't you instead of that twat in the news that won the lottery... when you can't wait for the new year to begin because this year has been just about all you can take, be grateful.

A new customer walks into the cafe. I've seen her on the street before but this is the first time she has come inside. She wears big clompy boots and a light summer dress, looks kinda cool from a distance. She walks with a limp. She needs a cane to walk. She is not old. She is, perhaps, in the prime of her life, as they say.

Now that she is closer than just out on the street, I see that she has something terribly wrong with one eye. The lid is sealed over a bulging eyeball. Perhaps it was never an eyelid, more like an area of skin that just never developed into its promised function. I don't know why the eyeball looks so swollen. I don't know. I don't know anything.

She asks for a latte with one sugar. Her mouth, I notice now, sags at one corner, like she's had a stroke. Her voice is strange, uncontrolled. I have no idea why she is the way she is. Was she born without sight in one eye? Was this perhaps the reason she was involved in some accident that has left her with her limp and the need for a walking stick? I don't know. I do know that the problems I have with my eye seem suddenly trivial. And the stress because work has been busy... yeah right, what a fucking bitch that is.

I ask her which size coffee she'd like, and she says in that cracked, slightly spastic voice, "I'm sorry - I'm deaf."

I point at the paper cups. She points. I make her coffee, amazed at the stress levels the milk has been causing me (a thing called Lipolysis... it causes tiny, unsightly bubbles after the steaming process... it's sooooo fucking frustrating). Her money has been dumped with a shaking hand on the counter, and she takes her coffee and makes her way back out into what is really a spectacular, sunny day.

So yeah, if work's getting you down, be grateful.

A Basil Fawlty Conversation With Our Customers

As you may or may not know, we don't have table numbers in our cafe, we have a selection of animals. It's been a bit of a hit with the customers.

Today, serving a youngish couple, I gave the girl the walrus because it's kind of my favourite and he's a cute little thing. She went back to the table and the guy moved to the counter to place his order. I like to double check things to avoid misunderstanding, so I said to him, "Are you with the walrus?"

Accompanied with a nod of the head in the direction of the table his girlfriend was sitting down at. Or indeed, nodding at his actual girlfriend, depending an how you looked at it.

I was horrified because there was no guarantee that he had seen me give the girl the walrus.

Given that I couldn't unsay what I had just said, I said, "No I mean at the table with the walrus on it..."

The fuck did that mean? At the table with the walrus on it, not at it?

Fortunately my brain came to the rescue by commanding me to JUST STOP TALKING NOW!

Are you with the walrus. Nice one, Basil.

The Importance (or not) Of Pokelery

In Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome, just yesterday, I watched a customer eat a bacon and egg roll with a knife and fork. Seriously - what is that all about? I wasn't going to kick him out or accuse him of being homosexual or British or anything, but really? Cutlery for a bacon & egg roll? Who does that?

I noticed that part of the way through the meal, he did away with the cutlery (or pokelery, as I like to call it - why should the knife have naming rights when it's the pokey fork that is most invaluable in these situations? You can poke with out the knife; you can't cut without the fork).

I assume that what happened part the way through the meal to cause this transition from the weird to the normal way of eating a bacon and egg roll, the guy's eating companion, who was eating his bacon and egg roll in the traditionally accepted manner, raised an eyebrow and asked him if he was homosexual or British or something. Like, you know, "What the fuck are you doing? It's a bacon and egg roll - who eats a bacon and egg roll with pokelery?"

Then today I watched a customer tuck in to a fresh chicken and salad sandwich... with pokelery! A knife and fork! Why? WHY?

Trusting The Vibe

A guy comes into the cafe and wants to pre-pay for his team of workers' lunch on his credit card. They are installing air conditioners in the apartments above the cafe. He wants to pay for seven coffees, seven sweet slice type things, seven burgers. I'm worried about the burgers being different prices and is there going to be money owed back, so I tell him lets settle the bill afterwards.

Later I wonder if this was a stupid thing to do, because I have no deposit, no security. The guys all come in and order stuff and it all adds up to quite a bit. And all the guy left me with was his business card with his contact details.

I call the guy to say we're closing at 4pm, can you come down and sort the bill please. He says no can do because I am back at the office. He gives me his credit card details instead.

All good.

Problem is, I can't do an over-the-phone credit card transaction. I don't know why until I go to the bank and explain the situation. They tell me that we can't do over-the-phone transactions until we've been operating for six months.

Pooh, I think, and wonder if I have been very stupid. I shouldn't have trusted the guy. I should have taken payment upfront.

I email the guy to ask for payment to be transferred into our bank account, wondering is this is going to get complicated.

Meantime, earlier, a guy comes into the cafe and says he'll give me five dollars if we break our rule about not handing out change for parking metres (this is the most loosely enforced rule ever... we are near a hospital and although it's really fucking annoying to give out change for parking meters, sometimes change for parking meters should not be a drama for the hospital visitors). I start  counting out the money, then give him his full amount back, saying I can't possibly do that do him, give him 15 out of 20 just so he gets some change. I can't do that. But he insists.

I put the five dollars in the tip jar, which unlike a lot of cafes, we share with our staff.

A guy walks in and wants something to eat. He only has six dollars. All we have left are our pre-made sandwiches which are $8.50. He turns to leave but hell, a guy just gave us a fiver for nothing, so I give the guy a cheap sandwich with the promise of him not telling anyone.

And just now I get an email from the air conditioner guy. Our transaction is based on nothing except goodwill. But the goodwill has been honoured.

Sometimes, you just gotta trust the vibe.

Are You Looking For Anyone?

Another traveller came into the cafe today looking for work. "Are you looking for anyone at the moment?" she asked in her adorable accent.

I came this close to telling her, "No, sorry, I'm in a long term relationship. But if I was looking for someone you'd be right at the top of the list, you fetching young minx you."

Remember Those Times.

Do you remember those times
Of dark hallways
Of late night bleariness
Of stumbling,
And daytime eyes
Wide and blind in the dark,
When we'd bump into each other
And stop
And hold each other
Naked
Exposed
Innocent
Tender and folded in each others arms
With time on hold
Just for now
Just for now
Skin against skin
Breath and late night whispers
Because this is what we do
This is what people do
When they are in love.

I remember those times.

This Is The End Of The working Week... Almost

The Oldest Budding Writer There Ever Was

Someone suggested that because I took an interest in a certain magazine they were dropping off in the cafe today that I must be "a budding writer".

Interesting assumption by her especially given my age. Kind of funny for me in that budding is entirely the wrong word. Yet I am not a successful writer. Or an established one.

I ermed a bit about the budding part, then she said "Oh you ARE a writer."

Was she being condescending. It was all a bit confusing.

As usual, I have no idea what the hell I am.

CATS!

This just made me giggle quite a lot. A lot. If you're a dog person, there is this.

Head's A Mess

Head's a mess.
Feeling tired.
Feeling drained.
Feeling excited.
Feeling blessed.
Happy at random moments.
In daytime sunshine.
Suicidal at 4:48am.
I'm aware.
I don't understand anything.
I want to sleep forever.
I want to be alone.
I want my friends.
Too far away.
I want to live forever.
I'm not good enough.
I missed another moment.

The end.

A Conversation Between Grumpy And Dorothea

I have to start answering the cafe telephone with "Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome, this Grumpy speaking."

Because today I picked up and simply said "This is Lee speaking."

"Hello. This is Dorothea from the Women's Hospital."

St Vincents Hopital is nearby and we have a lot of  doctors, nurses, ambos and hospital admin people as customers, so this didn't seem odd. "Oh yes? Hello."

"I'm just calling to let you know that we have an ET scheduled for Monday."

Slight pause. Was Dorothea shortening this from ETA? For Estimated Time of Arrival? The ETA for a reserved table perhaps? Didn't seem likely as we had no tables reserved for Monday.

"An ET, you say?", I said, craftily stalling for time whilst trying to figure out what the hell Dorothea was talking about.

"Yes."

"For Monday?"

"That's right."

"Okay. Just one thing... what's an ET?"

Slight pause while Dorothea obviously tried to figure out why I wouldn't know what an ET is.

"An embroyo transfer," she explained, a tone that said isn't that really, really, really obvious?

"Ah. In that case I'm reasonably sure you have the wrong number. We're a new little cafe on Getrude Street."

"Ah. Oh. Okay. Sorry. Goodbye."

Conversations with Our Customers - The Bonzer Bloke Award

Firstly, to all the people arriving here after reading my quite old comment on another website about Suspended Coffee, that blog post is here. I'm not sure why my old comment is now so visible but it really is an old discussion, one that is apparently still taking place.

But to the above picture. A while ago in Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome, a customer ordered a coffee and sat down at his table. He was very, very Australian. Nice old gentleman, just, you know, a bloody beaut type.

As I placed his coffee on the table he said, "Now the big question is, what's this plant?", nodding at the twig of New South Wales Christmas Bush we had placed in a bottle on most of the tables.

"It's New South Wales Christmas Bush," I told him.

"That's marvellous," he told me with what amounted to big blokey joy. "That's absolutely bloody marvellous!"

He then actually stood up and took my hand in a big blokey handshake.

Later he came over and we talked a bit about plants. He works at the Botannical Gardens in Cranbourne and is pretty obssessed with native plants. I am not obssessed with plants, so my plant anecdote this day consisted of me telling him about the Regrowth parties we sometimes go to, where hippie ravers spend the weekend regenerating depleted land by day and party by night. The idea of young(er) folk caring that much about native vegetation... I think his eyes moistened a little, in a big, blokey way.

Anyway, today I got a small parcel in the post. It's a collection of postcards taken at Cranbourne Gardens, taken by the big guy himself. Along with the postcards was this note. In case you can't make it out (it took me a couple of reads to get it), It says "Lee, here are some postcards for your Bonzer Bloke Award for displaying the NSW Christmas Bush..."

A Bonzer Bloke Award, eh? Fair dinkum. I'm not taking the piss when I say that I think it's bloody marvellous.

Cafe Dreams

We've been flogged at the cafe over the Christmas/New Year period. I feel properly exhausted, but I've been properly exhausted in the past working for absolute tools who don't appreciate good staff. Sometimes, the harder you work, the more these arseholes seem to despise you. Doesn't make sense.

So. Tired. So very tired. And scared, or nervous. Gertrude Street has a reputation. It's a pretty cool street with loads of very good cafes, bars and boutique designer shops, and we have opened a cafe with a very silly name on that street.

Around three months in, we're still nervous. We still have sleepless nights. We still wake up with lightning bolt ideas or flashbacks to moments where we fucked up. We still struggle with maintaining even temperaments. Money is the fucker it has always been. We still have a long way to go before we're going to feel like hey yeah, high five, we did it, good on us. We're a long way from there.

But right now I can't imagine us not trying to do it. Scary as it is right now, there's a secret little part of me that thinks that one day, we will be doing those high fives. Part of me thinks that we might just pull this thing off.

At the chaotic end of another chaotic day, another short review  of us (not from a friend) came up on Urbanspoon. This one said: "This cafe lives up to its name... Awesome! The wagyu beef burger is probably the best I've had...ever. The Tuscan pie, delicious. Just found my new regular haunt."

The Dreaded One is doing an awesome job. So is the rest of Team Awesome.

Time for me to go to sleep and dream more cafe dreams.

The Adventure So Far...

My varied and colourful life, so far, has lead me to this little place. It's a humble little place. It's a place run by two people who take pride in what they do and who try to do the hospitality thing to the best of their ability. The Dreaded One & I have always tried to make people happy when they are our guests in our home; we aim to do the same in this place.

Eight weeks after opening. Reflections? It's fucking hard. Almost 60 hours a week each, all staff and bills paid. I can see a day when we can pay ourselves a modest wage. That will be nice.

There are so many things I love about this image. I love that The Dreaded One & I have always done our thing without having to have asked for help. Never had a hand-out. It's always just been us, our hard work, our occasional fuck ups, us enjoying when we managed to make things go right. Thank you, universe, for giving us the ability to provide for ourselves.

I love that the name of the cafe started as a throwaway joke between friends and has now become a real thing. I love that this stupid name is pulling people in; today a group ordered their coffees, then said they saw the sign from across the road and just had to come in and say hello. I have seen lots of people on the street smile at the name.

I love that the person who designed the logo is someone I met soooo many years ago in my Sydney clubbing days. Lia was the coolest peson I had ever seen and was so yeah-no-she's-too-cool-for-someone-like-me-to-talk-to... but don't strangers so often turn out to be such like-minded people and occasionally friends?

I love that you can see Ann standing there, looking at me taking the photo. I love that you can see the very lovely Bianca deeper in the photo. We'll take a proper shot of Team Awesome soon. Bianca is lovely and is going sooner than hoped, but what a pleasant working relationship this has been. She's orright, is Bianca.

Also, the yellow smudge in the top right corner, just above Ann's head, that's Pigeon Christ. I love that he is there to look over us.

And I love going to work each day. Who's a lucky boy then?

On Being Awesome, and a thing about Kanye Motherfucking West

My free pouring latte art shows signs of improvement.

In other news, I am a fucking idiot. Yesterday The Dreaded One and I had our usual Sunday lunch indulgence. Just went to a cheap local seafood restaurant, shared a meal and a bottle of wine in the sunshine, then moved on to a favourite drinking hole, The Black Cat on Brunswick Street.

On a whim, I texted fellow Team Awesome member, Bianca to say that if she and her guy felt like joining us for a drink, it would be really nice. They agreed and joined us for a couple of quiet drinks. They seem really lovely and even invited us back to theirs for dinner. I think it's safe to say that we might become friendly as opposed to just work mates. As I've said, she is an absolute pleasure to work with and he seems cool too.

So why am I a fucking idiot? Well. We've been pulling pretty long weeks. More than 50 hours a week, six days of the week. I really start to feel it towards the end of the week, especially given that I'm not a massive sleeper anyway. Basically, I had to bail on dinner because the combination of feeling physically tired, drinking booze in the sunshine, and being a fucking idiot mean't I started to melt. I felt myself going downhill fast and knew I had to get home and flake out. I said goodbye to the others with The Dreaded One heading on for dinner.

I made it home and passed out immediately.

And slept through my alarm. I awoke with a jump and looked at my watch - 8.30? How the hell did that happen? We open the cafe at 7am. We are so late. And another thing - where was The Dreaded One? Either she had left without me, which was unlikely, or she had pulled an all nighter. On a Sunday? What was she thinking?

I got dressed in a hurry, grabbed my things, my laptop, and dashed out the door. No time for a tram, I'd have to catch a cab. I called The Dreaded One to find out what the hell she was playing at but no answer. I flagged a cab down and we headed off.

In the far off back waters of my mind, a couple of things occured to me: something was wrong with the light, like it was just too overcast or something; and there seemed to be more people out and about. Some of the cafes were packed for that time of the day, and even the pubs seemed full. What had gotten into people?
I got out of the cab, feeling a bit rough. I crossed the road and got my keys out. The place next door was full, which was weird because they normally aren't even open on Monday morning.

No. Actually, something is definitely not right. I stood outside the cafe holding my keys and looked around a bit more. So many people... the light was not increasing, the darkness was.

Because it was 8.30 at night. I'd only fallen asleep for a couple of hours. I think the owner of the restaurant next door saw me and probably wondered what the hell I was doing. Feeling like the idiot that I was, I flagged another cab and went back home.

Sheepish? Hell yeah.

Also, speaking of fucking idiots, here is my latest piece for Soot mag. It's about the biggest fucking idiot there ever was. And I feel I can say that with authority, given that I'm no slouch in the fucking idiot department.

Stalking The Customers (For A Good Cause)

A customer noticed my Santorini T shirt. We started talking about the Greek islands. Turns out she lives in Greece three months of the year and is buidling a place to live in there. She said she'd let me know when it's completed and I could come stay with her.

If she's never been stalked before...

Team Awesome

Three weeks or so into opening Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome, I was not very happy with our first staff member. She was a good worker and made okay coffee, we just weren't a perfect fit. She constantly interrupted my dealings with customers, rearranged the service area to her liking from mine... I got the impression that she was one of those employees who thinks she knows so much more than her employers. You meet them all the time, and you always wonder if they're so switched on, why are they an ee and not an er.

Unfortunately it was early days so we probably did look a little like we didn't know what we were doing. I found myself wishing that we had had three or four weeks on the job before needing staff so that we had some idea of how things worked - when the busy times were, what patterns and procedures fell into place etc.

So I was quite okay when this person told us she was leaving to stay with her sick mother, a story I didn't fully believe for various reasons. The timing was perfect, because by this time The Dreaded One and I had more of an idea of what we were doing and what we expected from our workers.

A day later another of the many travellers looking for work came into the cafe. You can pick them immediately. They don't look at the menu, don't look around at the cafe, they just meet your eye and walk directly up to the counter. I could bet money on picking them and wouldn't lose a dollar.

Bianca was one such person. Resume looked fine, she had plenty of restaurant experience, she was Italian so of course she could do coffee. We settled on a trial shift the following Monday. I placed an ad just in case and was inundated with replies.

That first day was not good. Her English was fine but there were complications and misunderstandings. I had to do my job as well as make sure she was not stuffing up, taking incorrect orders etc. I was expecting pricing questions all day long but that was going to happen with any new worker. Her coffee skills were not as good as I'd hoped. It was a very stressful day and I didn't think it was going to work out after all. Never trust The Vibe.

It was only fair to give her another chance but I did tell her that she was not what I had hoped for and that I had wanted someone with stronger coffee skills. I said we would see how the rest of the week went.

The second day was no better. The third day... I didn't know why I was putting myself through this. I didn't let her do the coffee because it was easier and more reliable if I just did it all myself. One minute I'd decide that she had to go, the next I'd think there was improvement. And by improvement I just meant an easinig of stress. I knew she was intelligent, so soon questions about the menu and pricing and procedure would lessen.

I think it was the third day when I watched her serving a customer, both struggling with accents, that I decided on the spot. She was trying so hard to understand this weird Australian accent that was tinged slightly with irritation at not being understood, and I think I caught a glimpse of a good person. I knew then, right at that moment, that I was going to try to make this work. I knew then that I was going with The Vibe. I didn't quite know if I was making a mistake or not. I just knew that something about Bianca had won me over.

I'm happy to say, I did not make a mistake. I'm happy to say that The Vibe, in this case, nailed it. In a few short weeks Bianca has become the perfect worker I'd hoped she would be. She is an absolute pleasure to work with. She is gentle, intelligent, caring and has a lovely sense of humour. We share laughs during service and I frequently hear her and The Dreaded One laughing from the kitchen. Yesterday the three of us worked on a busy Saturday while the sun was shining, and I got the impression that all three of us were perfectly happy to be there.

The Dreaded One and I were in agreement without initially speaking about it; we didn't want to cross the line into socialising. I was burnt recently with getting too close to co-workers, so I wasn't going to risk that happening again, at least until I was sure things weren't going to go pear shaped.

Both of us are confident now. Both of us have nothing but praise for Bianca. Team Awesome right now is Grumpy, The Dreaded One, pastry chef Andrea, and Bianca. Right now it's all a perfect fit. She's a traveller and will move on in a few months, I guess, but for now I'm enjoying what must come close to the perfect work environment. Whether we become friends or not doesn't really matter, but it woudn't surprise me if we do become friends.

The cafe is doing okay. It's still a struggle. We are working hard, 50+ hours a week, but sales have gone steadily in the right direction each and every week. This is a good sign but we have a long way to go. But it's not all about money. We just need to get that covered; equally important is to enjoy what we're doing and to make sure we have people who enjoy being there, working with us, because I think that will attract customers who want to be there as well.

At least that's what The Vibe tells me.

More Mandelas, Please.

Dear Universe,

The Abbott hasn't been working out so well. We'd like to cancel the Abbotts and order more of the Mandelas. Can we please put in a bulk order for the Mandela in the next delivery?
Kind regards,

Humanity.

Passion in Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome

No, this is not a story about how passionate The Dreaded One is about preparing good food, or a story about how passionately Grumpy loathes fern leaf latte art. It's a story (not so much of a story as a captured moment) of two of the most passionate customers we've ever had.

Sadly, they were not passionate about the food or the coffee. They were, however, very passionate about each other. Basically, they were the snoggingest couple I think I've ever seen They were at it for well over an hour. It could have been two hours, or maybe that was just because it felt like time had slowed. It was like they were 14 years old and had discovered that another person's tongue was the absolute coolest thing ever you could have in your mouth. It was blurring the lines between affection and canabalism. It was noisy, in a quietly wet and moany way.

They took short breaks from time to time to murmur and giggle quietly, then they went back at it. Their hand clasped each others head, fingers wound through hair in a way that reminded me of octopus tentacles, sucking and slurping...

For a long time, they were the only customers in the cafe, which made me feel pretty uncomfortable. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I went about doing stuff that had to be done because I didn't want to ruin the delusion they were both sharing that they were actually at home on their own. Then I thought fuck it and turned the music up to block out the wet sounds. Then, thinking about the music, I hoped like hell there was no Barry White on The Dreaded One's phone because that would definitely have pushed them over the edge.

Then I peered into the future and knew that I was going to write a blog post about it, because in all the five weeks of running the cafe I had never felt so awkward. It was pretty funny and definitely worth writing about, but I needed an image to go with it. I wanted an image of The Snoggers. But I couldn't just brazenly stand there in the open and take a shot of them because, well, that might appear a little bit pervy.

No. Much better to be secretive about it. Get the camera out, kneel down out of direct sight and aim the camera through the glass display cabinet and zoom in for a nice, intimate shot.

Whereupon The Dreaded One walked in just at the wrong moment and said, "Grumpy - what the hell are you doing?"

Okay, so that obviously didn't happen.

What did happen was this: I wrote a little sign saying Do Not Disturb. I hung it on the door, facing out, stepped outside, quietly closed the door and went for a nice little walk around the block because surely they couldn't still be at it when I got back.

Surely.

Latte Art At Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome.

Me and latte art... not exactly a match made in heaven. This was my attempt at a heart. Words can't express my feelings when I saw what an epic fail this was. Don't get me wrong - my coffee - according to many, many volunteered and heartfelt comments from customers - tastes mighty fine. One even went so far as to say that she is always looking for the best coffee in Melbourne and that we are right up there. I don't think this could be possible, but certainly concensus is that Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome serves a good cup of coffee.

What is also generally agreed upon is my breathtaking ineptitude when it comes to making simple shapes in the crema like fern leaves and hearts. Sometimes I have come so close that my heart almost stops just before it sinks when I see the result. Other times I manage to turn a heart into a fart.

Mostly I have abandoned the whole latte art thing. I still manage to get the contrast between the stretched milk (ooh look at me and my techie terms) and the crema to look delicious so long as I don't attempt to create a recogniseable shapes... unless those recogniseable shapes are buttocks, in which case my latte art is awesome.

Interestingly, not a single person has mentioned the lack of latte art. I think the average punter doesn't give a flying fern leaf about decorating their coffee. Amongst my friends I have had expressions of disdain; it's all wank, all that matters is the taste. But if we get a reviewer in I don't doubt they will mention that lack of latte art. This could work for us or against us.

In spite of this, I am enrolled in a latte art class. I think it's a silly trend but maybe if I nail the technique I can do interesting, fun things. I am not looking forward to it because I don't like classes, but it has to be done.

We're feeling good about the whole cafe project. We've only had great feedback about the food and the coffee and the general vibe of the place. People just seem to like it, whatever 'it' is. We're just gradually adding more stuff to give it character. It's a work in progress done on the cheap because that's all we can afford. But this is a good thing. Gradually, gradually.

This could be my signature latte art at Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome. Not a bad likeness, huh?