Today
I slept in a while, until eleven, and then went downstairs to the
Side Door Cafe and practised making coffees with Swanny for a while.
I've wanted to learn how to make coffees for ages, so this little
opportunity is nice, and also with the uncertainty around the
cleaning business, it's a good fall-back option to have.
The Side Door Cafe is a part of Station 59, the pub I live above, and so if/when I start working there I'll be able to literally jump out of bed and walk downstairs to work. They do barely fuck all trade though, and Mick (the owner of the place) seems pretty hesitant to give free reign to Swanny to put on any specials that might pull customers. The cafe around the corner – Tree of Us, one of my favourites in Melbourne – already has the twenty-dollar market cornered around here though, so the only real option to get people coming in is a cheap special. We live in the middle of a heroin basket people, no one is paying for smiles.
So the idea, I guess, would be to figure out some sort of cheap, easy special for people – Swanny's idea is a coffee and a toastie for $6 – and then make up flyers with that special, a map, and whatever else... maybe a clip art picture of a cake? Send those bitches out by foot to houses in the area, and local businesses, and BOOMBA-BIMBA, that's some possible local interest. As it is the place only does like ten fucking sales a day. What is there to lose? Nothing whatsoever. I could definitely see myself working in a place underneath my fucking house for cash and generating the business myself. That would be absolute heaven.
Since living in Melbourne I've found – other than my initial stint working bar at Yah Yah's which was doomed from the moment they put free drinks under my nose eleven hours a weekend – I've found that all of my jobs have come from random social opportunities, rather than actual concerted searching. That's the way it's going to be I feel, for as long as I continue to toil in the 'workforce'. Fuck trying to break into some place where no one knows who you are, or what you're about, and fitting in to the scene of the joint is based on a roll of the dice alone... fuck that right off. There are plenty of opportunities for hustling money around the place with people you get along with if you just keep putting yourself out there.
That's the trap of being born without affluence, I guess. For someone like me, who grew up around people who would end up running businesses and deciding their own destinies with plenty of room to move, it's pretty fucking easy to be in control of your own world. I could count on one hand, maybe even one finger, the amount of times when I've been really in danger of falling into a bad situation and having to look for help to pull myself out of it. And even then, for me, help exists.
So many people don't have these opportunities thrown at them on a weekly basis, not getting to choose which ones they like and which ones they can see themselves doing. Some people are still handing out resumes at thirty. Thirty-five. Hairs greying. Hope running out.
I'm really excited at the possibility of working at a cafe that sucks, because that means it's a blank slate, and I may be able to have a hand in making it into something worthwhile and profitable. That's really cool, and from where I sit, I feel pretty fucking lucky right now.
Peace, Taco.
The Side Door Cafe is a part of Station 59, the pub I live above, and so if/when I start working there I'll be able to literally jump out of bed and walk downstairs to work. They do barely fuck all trade though, and Mick (the owner of the place) seems pretty hesitant to give free reign to Swanny to put on any specials that might pull customers. The cafe around the corner – Tree of Us, one of my favourites in Melbourne – already has the twenty-dollar market cornered around here though, so the only real option to get people coming in is a cheap special. We live in the middle of a heroin basket people, no one is paying for smiles.
So the idea, I guess, would be to figure out some sort of cheap, easy special for people – Swanny's idea is a coffee and a toastie for $6 – and then make up flyers with that special, a map, and whatever else... maybe a clip art picture of a cake? Send those bitches out by foot to houses in the area, and local businesses, and BOOMBA-BIMBA, that's some possible local interest. As it is the place only does like ten fucking sales a day. What is there to lose? Nothing whatsoever. I could definitely see myself working in a place underneath my fucking house for cash and generating the business myself. That would be absolute heaven.
Since living in Melbourne I've found – other than my initial stint working bar at Yah Yah's which was doomed from the moment they put free drinks under my nose eleven hours a weekend – I've found that all of my jobs have come from random social opportunities, rather than actual concerted searching. That's the way it's going to be I feel, for as long as I continue to toil in the 'workforce'. Fuck trying to break into some place where no one knows who you are, or what you're about, and fitting in to the scene of the joint is based on a roll of the dice alone... fuck that right off. There are plenty of opportunities for hustling money around the place with people you get along with if you just keep putting yourself out there.
That's the trap of being born without affluence, I guess. For someone like me, who grew up around people who would end up running businesses and deciding their own destinies with plenty of room to move, it's pretty fucking easy to be in control of your own world. I could count on one hand, maybe even one finger, the amount of times when I've been really in danger of falling into a bad situation and having to look for help to pull myself out of it. And even then, for me, help exists.
So many people don't have these opportunities thrown at them on a weekly basis, not getting to choose which ones they like and which ones they can see themselves doing. Some people are still handing out resumes at thirty. Thirty-five. Hairs greying. Hope running out.
I'm really excited at the possibility of working at a cafe that sucks, because that means it's a blank slate, and I may be able to have a hand in making it into something worthwhile and profitable. That's really cool, and from where I sit, I feel pretty fucking lucky right now.
Peace, Taco.
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