The Unforeseen Joys of Employment…

I think there comes a point in every young professional’s work life that they have to suppress the urge(s) to hijack their workplace, strip everyone naked and make them perform a conga line. You’ll obviously oversee everything and laugh like the raging lunatic you indeed are. I’m coming a little bit close to this point so instead of a sadistic, sweaty, XXX conga line; I’m going to blog about it and hopefully find some humour in this dark, long tunnel.

To fully wrap your head around this blog, I need to fill you in about where I’m working. I’m gainfully employed by a little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in the CBD (Central Business District) in downtown Sydney. I’m a two minute walk away from Circular Quay, Harbour Bridge and the Sydney Opera House. The CBD is filled with all kinds of interesting people – business people (obviously, duh!), CEOs, the odd morning-after hooker and some homeless people that could be mistaken for the lead singer of a Swedish death metal band. There’s even one guy that periodically wears an eye patch so we call him Captain Hook. The majority of the CBD population are the business people or as I say “frat boys that only slightly grew up”. The boys are hilarious, just like in their high school glory days as jocks, they still travel as a crew and get the exact same matching haircuts (still stuck in 2002 with the frosted tips and gel), get their weekly manicures (I’m not even kidding) and suit up in almost identical suits every day. They usually come into our shop in a rush on their blackberries (yea, they’re basically labelling themselves as walking dinosaurs with one of those things) and order their coffee while in the middle of a conference call. I’ve become quite good at knowing when they’re on a conference call or if their wife is on the other line giving them shit for leaving the lid up, again. When they’re on a conference call, they try to be as quiet as possible because technically they’re not supposed to be out of the office. Because most of these financial jockeys are so rude, I’m as loud as possible and will always confirm their order before ringing it through the register.  You become an expert of receiving cut eye when you do this 10-15 times a day! Some of the lads are just lovely and make your day. Like Levi. He’s the grouchiest yet happiest gay man I’ve ever met. And he’s got the same name as my dog so it’s always a pleasure seeing his grouchy/bewildered mug first thing in the morning for his 6 coffees he has to get for the office (I think someone is the office b*tch!) And then there are the ladies…

LADIES!!

Boy o boy are you ever a confusing lot! You’ll cut every corner possible to keep you mama fuel skinny and healthy (and make it very clear to me it HAS to be skim milk and organic coffee beans) but then order a chocolate croissant with butter on the side. For realz? Just like the financial jockeys, you travel in a pack like the mean girls and are so critical of every other posse that crosses your path. I’ve never witnessed more walking twigs either. You’d give the Paris fashion week a run for its money, no doubts about that. So many fake eye lashes, hair extensions and spray tans. It almost makes me start doubting myself and thinking there’s something wrong with me! There’s a trio of really bitchy, twiggy ladies that come in usually every morning. They each order a skinny latte and a bottle of San Pellegrino. They order the san pan because they say it fills them up the same as food but without the calories.  We call them the pussy cat dolls. Their ‘leader’ of that clique even looks like that 40-something lead singer of the pussycat dolls; Nicole something or other. The one that sings about boobies and groupies, that chick.  To all the ladies balancing work, home life, spray tan dates and “dates” with their sizzling personal trainer (and yes, I unfortunately have had the pleasure of hearing all your steamy secrets and new “workout positions” one too many times) – we salute you!

This one’s for tha hisptas…

To the ultra hipster Jack White, please come back. You’re a breath of fresh air with your perfectly groomed “V for Vendetta” styled mo and chin beard. Your nose ring and rim horned glasses make me laugh uncontrollably because I’m 99% sure both are fake and purely aesthetic. Your pain-in-the-ass need for gluten and dairy free soup and a cup of coffee you never drink hot can be taken care of at our hole-in-the-wall shop. But at least you’re pleasant and have manners unlike the financial jockeys. For the crazy feminist chick in her grunge Nirvana jacket and likely unshaved armpits, power to the anti-Pussy cat dolls of the girl world! I love it when you call people out that jump spots in the line because they’re on a “conference call”. But hell hath no fury greater than you when your coffee isn’t made right either. I guess it’s a double edged blade with you.

Stay tuned for part 2 about the nut cases I work with J

KCCO