Jobber

I've officially "settled in" to my new job. Well, I can't really say new, as my previous job at the Coffee Club only lasted a day. And it wasn't even a job, because I wasn't ever employed there. It was just a temp day, like training. See how I went. This was a while back actually.

It was going really swell. I had to bus into town and everything, and wear head to toe blacks. It was from ten till two, and I got there a bit early and so went to the library and read Roald Dahl's excellent Tales of the Unexpected that I got given by Nat when he left for The Big Salt (I don't think any ones ever called England The Big Salt before, but it was worth a shot).

I was training in the Kitchen by this guy whose name I don't remember. He let me wear his coffee club head cap thing because I had kind of long hair, and he wanted me to feel 'part of the team'. It was nice. We made awkward banter, and he told me about the perks of the job, basically showing me the ropes. I love ropes. He showed me how to make the breakfast foods, use the grill thing, make a huge batch of scrambled egg mix (I had to shell two huge trays of eggs and then mix in 2 litres of cream with a hand blender. It was awesome, but super gross), and do dishes. The dishes were easy, and involved an enormous industrial dish washer. I mainly did them because they didn't involve a recipe and made me feel like I was contributing and not just getting in the way.

This Korean guy named Q came in when shit got busy over lunch. I couldn't really understand a lot of what he was saying. He told me a funny story about sword fighting while I sliced a dozen or so tomatoes. He was pretty cool, and was alarmingly relaxed for what for me seemed like a high pressure job. I guess it was because he was just really good at it. The focus these guys had was mad. And such tough hands. I was told that I would get a lot of burns. I was prepared to bleed for this job.

Then, about ten minutes before the end of my shift, there was an enormous fuck off earthquake. The kitchen was quite small, and the two big fridges slammed against the opposite wall, almost trapping the other two guys in. All the people in the cafe were screaming, and I was almost certain the building was going to collapse. The sound of it. You really understand the weight of concrete and wood and plaster when you remember that it's there, above you. But everyone knows about the earthquake now. It was the worst possible thing any of us needed. I would almost complain about its inconvenience, but that's really a bad way to think about it. That general "fuck this" sneered across every ones faces. These earthquakes will make cynics of us all.

But with time comes perspective, naturally. I think every ones sort of gathered themselves. I understand where I'm at now, and have had time to place my feet back on the ground. I think it's just the uncertainty that scares me more than anything. I didn't really realise how much of a step everything is, whether its planned or not. I really hope it's leading somewhere useful.

I can't stand feeling unproductive. That's what got me through those weeks after the quake, keeping on making goals. The job was a goal, and now I've got it. Now I've finally got something to make my time more valuable. Something to complain about. And ultimately, a way of achieving the bigger goals.

I had this theory that you should never really tell people the bigger goals, because then there's more pressure on achieving them, and also making you less open to other options. I have recently muted this theory on the basis of a startling realisation:

I am allowed to change my mind.