how I got a job

Into my second week in Sydney I was starting to get really anxious to find work. My money was gone, I was borrowing from Justin, and I was getting bored.

Monday was full of nerves emailing back and forth with a manager at a bakery where I wanted to work. I was thrilled to hear from them at all. But when she set me up for a trial on Friday morning, I figured I'd better get some other irons in the fire, just in case.

As cynical as I claim China has made me, I still feel bad manipulating my advantages over employers (i.e. lying about how long I'm staying, agreeing to overlapping trials, aiming for multiple offers and taking the best one). But Justin and our housemates were saying, "no, that's what you do!", so that's what I did.

I answered more ads on gumtree in the "chefs/cooks/kitchenstaff" section and dropped CVs around. I know from how we hired people in Nanchong that most of the time it's just the luck of walking in at the right time.

Late on Tuesday afternoon I headed down Harris (the street where we live) toward the tiny cafe where Justin had taken me on my first day. The manager was nice, took my CV, said he'd call if anything came up. At the next cafe I poked in and around, feigning confidence as I've learned to do, and asked about a job. The place was a little crazy, people and things spread out around the tables, and it didn't quite feel open even. I read a newspaper while I waited for the manager to finish her phone call. She was warm and personable, shocked to learn I'd just walked in off the street, ecstatic to learn I could drive a manual. She'd been advertising for days; I was the first person to walk in. And I have experience! (sort of). They'd been in business for ten years, had moved that day from the old cafe to a newly renovated cafe next door, and she was due to have a kid the next week (with a four-year-old at home). She kept talking about timing and coincidence and how great it was I'd walked in and stuff. I was to show up at 7 the next morning for a trial. It felt like a done deal. I called Justin with the good news.

For three hours the next morning I raced around behind Maz and Caz (the crazy pair who it seemed had been working there cafe forever), learned on the fly how to punch prices into the register, asked for the names of things again when they had a different pronunciation than I was used to (Australian English is somewhat different), over-vegemited one guy's toast ("You'll kill him!" Caz complained) and didn't put butter on the next one (it's an assumed under-layer for vegemite, I learned). The credit card with the chip took me a few extra seconds to figure out, and I may have stared a bit too long at the coins, which to me are bafflingly ill-proportioned, with tiny $2 pieces and silver-(American)dollar-size 50 cent pieces. Once I cut raisin bread instead of banana bread, but Maz caught me before it was too late.

In general, however, I thought it went fine. I started worrying when Kate the manager didn't get back to me in the afternoon like she'd promised to. I was surprised (I was still hearing the ring of promise in her voice), but by Thursday afternoon, I was pretty sure they weren't going to call. So on my way by the cafe I decided to seek some closure. The look on Maz's face when I marched in was enough confirmation, but I still waited around for Kate to come tell me they'd found someone else (he'd come in after me). I enjoyed forcing a little bit of discomfort on her. But I also completely understand how she didn't get around to calling. I've never been a mother, but I have opened a cafe. I also understand hiring the person that suits them better. It took me a few hours to find my self-esteem again, but all in all it was a fine distraction from the looming Friday appointment. Which was a whole other kind of scariness.

Patisse is a serious French bakery with a serious chef and a serious kitchen. I was told to show up with full chef's uniform, including hat (which is another long story). I'm not sure I would have gone through with the whole thing without Justin's encouragement, I felt so far out of my league. And Friday morning I certainly felt out of my league, and Saturday still, and I'm sure I will for a couple of weeks. It's tiring and scary and scary. And did I mention tiring? The place is out of control busy, with a cafe and catering orders and birthday cakes and pastry training classes. It's high-paced and demanding and it all seems we're stretched a little beyond our abilities and experience. Which is good, right? On Saturday I was there 7-5, and I think ten-hour days are going to be pretty standard. We'll see how things go. For now, it's an exciting new environment, with lot so learn, and people who seem like decent folk. I love being in a kitchen. Even though we work harder than waitstaff, we also have more fun, or at least we will when we're all more familiar with our roles and the place. I hope.