As you can imagine, I am an absolute bastard to work with. I never just do my job and smile politely. I'm always up to something strange and disconcerting: making an odd face, lying, breaking stuff,* doing a half-arsed job, teaching new employees to do half-arsed jobs and saying all manner of creative, artisticky things to cure the three Panadeine boredom of performing menial tasks that I'm convinced monkeys could be trained to perform if people didn't mind risking the odd louse in their latte.
If you are reading this and don't work with me, here's a slice of life around Franzy, Baristero Extraordinaire:
I use a lot of chocolate powder. We use it to make hot chocolates and we sprinkle it over cappuccinos. It is atomically fine, does not obey gravity and consequently, gets everywhere. If you were thinking "in between the clean cups and on the milk bottles", you were right. If you were thinking "down every moist orifice a person possesses", you were more right. Have a biscuit. I know the biscuit looks just like the spent coffee grounds from the group handle, but you'll notice that I've put it on a little plate with whipped cream on top and cinnamon sugar all around. It's coffee flavour. Try it!
Anyway, because of This Generation's Asbestos, frequently I am to be found, crouching behind the counter, tissue wrapped over finger, attempting to expunge the chunky, chocolaty build-ups from my nose. This exchange is recorded verbatim.
Chef: What are you doin'? Havin' a cry, mate?
Me: No, man. I'm picking a winner. It feels like I've got a skateboard up my nose, grommet and all! (sniffs)
Superviser: What's he doing?
Me: It's massive! (sniffs again) Jeez, it's like a loose storm shutter! Bang bang bang!
New girl: Yuck.
Me (Blows. Examines.): Oh no.
Superviser: What?
Me: So sad.
Chef: What?
Me: He didn't make it. Poor little bugger. (shows tissue) Still born.
New girl: (wide-eyed silence).
Me: I should have had that abortion when I had the chance.
Superviser: Franzy ...
Me: Oh god, it's got a little spine and rudimentary organs and everything. I'm calling him Steven. (To New Girl) What's the date?
New Girl: (Too traumatised to talk)
Me: What's the date?
Superviser: August twenty-first.
Me: Not any more it's not.
Chef: Why?
Me: Today ... is Steven's Day. (sniffs, sheds a tear). Do you want to hold him? Just for a moment?
New Girl shakes her head.
Superviser: You've got coffees up.
Me: Guess I'd better wash my hands then ...
*Just yesterday I lifted a garbage bag full of coffee grounds only to have it split open and spray everywhere because I was spinning the bag around to make a tie at the top. Just before closing. On the supervisor's last night. And the day before that I dropped four wine bottles on myself.
***
GTH - Points to Adam_Y and The Ninj for "hairless pygmy-foot" and "400m Thunderbird Impression". This GTH actually had an extremely tenuous link to my old birthday invitation which should probably see Adam take the gold in the tie-break, but because I'm an Australian judge, I'm just going to mess things up for all the colonial powers out there.
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An explanation of The Joy Division Litmus Test
Although it may now be lost in the mysts of thyme, the poll below is still relevant to this blog. In the winter of 2008, Mele and I went to live in Queensland. In order to survive, I bluffed my way into a job at a Coffee Club.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
Damn you Franzy, I just coughed up my lunch.... and no, it didn't look like Steven...
ReplyDeleteYou know that you're actually - apart from working with This Generation's Asbsestos - the 21st C equivalent of a coal miner? (in the dust and nose picking sense of the word)
Guess you and the job aren't really suited to each other. I like the way you try to lighten up your day with wit though. It helps you get through, even if others don't understand what you're on about.
ReplyDeleteAhh, little brown nose babies... better keep hold of Steven before some celebrity tries to adopt him from you.
ReplyDeleteGTH – is that one of those tricks that Satan put there?
You know that thing you said about monkeys? I got fired once from a cafe because they said I didn't know how to use the cappuccino machine
ReplyDelete:-/
By the way would you mind doing a sing a song story (due Thursday by email for posting the next day)?
GTH- Interesting skeleton. Pterodactyl? Or someone who died waiting for the "correct" latte?
ReplyDeleteFranzy, love, sweetie, love - stop mining your schnozz for a moment and check out this blogger from Tassie - http://junginasheepskin.blogspot.com/
ReplyDeletefarkin' hilarious!