Sometimes, some things burn slow. Sometimes you don't know immediately what a person is saying, because you don't really know that person.
Today in the cafe... it's towards the end of our day. We wind down from 3.30 to 4pm depending on the customer flow. The kitchen closes around 3.30 but if people come by we do what we can. Take-away food and drinks are on offer right up til the end. The Dreaded One and I start at 6.30 and don't get to sit down or have a break but we're cool with that.We're used to it.
This guy comes in during what I consider my bump-out, clean-up time. Wants some food. I put his toasty on the sandwich press that I've just cleaned, because that's what he wants. This guy is a semi-regular, have never much liked him, not sure why. He's always given of a slight air of self-importance. I've also overheard him having a meeting with a superior about unacceptable workplace behaviour. I have noticed that that he has a small personal space around female customers and likes to make eye-contact and smile... okay in itself if done the right way, but there is something about this guy.
Anyway, while his toasty is being cooked he decides to strike up conversation. Tells me he saw me walking along Johnston Street the other day. Tells me he got it wrong and thought I was the owner of the operation and lived upstairs at the cafe.
I tell him no, I own the business, not the building. I tell him that I walk home most days. I enjoy my walk home. It's such a luxury to walk home, maybe half an hour, 20 minutes if I push it, I really like it.
Long pause, then: "I really don't know how or why so many cafes do this. I guess they must really love it or something."
I'm totally motherfucking Zen for a Monday, so I'm all whatever you cock-sucking wanker. But I can't help noticing a couple of things about this exchange.
Why are you speaking to me in the third person? Why didn't you say, "I don't know how or why you do this?"
I tell him, I can't speak on behalf of 'them', but yes, I love this. Weirdly, for all the hard work it is, I love it. I love not working for someone else. I love getting it right, in our banged up way. I love the very slow additions to the Trip Advisor reviews. I love the first-hand feedback we get each day. I love the team we have right now. I love how much better I have become at choosing the right people for us. I like the perfect complementary yinyang thang The Dreaded One & I have.
I explained that for hospitality, this is a pretty sweet gig. No night shifts. No weekends. And we choose the people who work with us, and it's a pretty cool vibe each day.
He was polite, but I don't think he got it at all. Standing there in his suit, he tells me about his commute... one and a half hours each way every day.
He left and I was still Zen as all motherfucking shit and stuff, but the encounter did make me think.
Today in the cafe... it's towards the end of our day. We wind down from 3.30 to 4pm depending on the customer flow. The kitchen closes around 3.30 but if people come by we do what we can. Take-away food and drinks are on offer right up til the end. The Dreaded One and I start at 6.30 and don't get to sit down or have a break but we're cool with that.We're used to it.
This guy comes in during what I consider my bump-out, clean-up time. Wants some food. I put his toasty on the sandwich press that I've just cleaned, because that's what he wants. This guy is a semi-regular, have never much liked him, not sure why. He's always given of a slight air of self-importance. I've also overheard him having a meeting with a superior about unacceptable workplace behaviour. I have noticed that that he has a small personal space around female customers and likes to make eye-contact and smile... okay in itself if done the right way, but there is something about this guy.
Anyway, while his toasty is being cooked he decides to strike up conversation. Tells me he saw me walking along Johnston Street the other day. Tells me he got it wrong and thought I was the owner of the operation and lived upstairs at the cafe.
I tell him no, I own the business, not the building. I tell him that I walk home most days. I enjoy my walk home. It's such a luxury to walk home, maybe half an hour, 20 minutes if I push it, I really like it.
Long pause, then: "I really don't know how or why so many cafes do this. I guess they must really love it or something."
I'm totally motherfucking Zen for a Monday, so I'm all whatever you cock-sucking wanker. But I can't help noticing a couple of things about this exchange.
Why are you speaking to me in the third person? Why didn't you say, "I don't know how or why you do this?"
I tell him, I can't speak on behalf of 'them', but yes, I love this. Weirdly, for all the hard work it is, I love it. I love not working for someone else. I love getting it right, in our banged up way. I love the very slow additions to the Trip Advisor reviews. I love the first-hand feedback we get each day. I love the team we have right now. I love how much better I have become at choosing the right people for us. I like the perfect complementary yinyang thang The Dreaded One & I have.
I explained that for hospitality, this is a pretty sweet gig. No night shifts. No weekends. And we choose the people who work with us, and it's a pretty cool vibe each day.
He was polite, but I don't think he got it at all. Standing there in his suit, he tells me about his commute... one and a half hours each way every day.
He left and I was still Zen as all motherfucking shit and stuff, but the encounter did make me think.
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