trials... and errors.

First of all, I want to thank those of you who have reached out to me after my "some random thoughts re: the job search thing" blog entry. I have received countless advice, reassurance, understanding and personal stories of similar situations and frustrations. I know that I am very much not alone. So thank you, friends and family, for joining in the conversation with me.

My Australian job search continues with this next post, featuring yours truly in a couple of Mortifying Situations, not worth dwelling over but definitely worth sharing for the sake of your amusement. Enjoy!

THE CAPPUCCINO STORY 

I know how to make coffee. I was trained on a classic espresso machine at a cafe in Michigan eight years ago, and my first job in Seattle was serving espresso beverages at the top of the Space Needle, which was very fast-paced and ridiculously entertaining. I may not know how to do fancy latte art, but I am fully capable of caffeinating customers from all around the globe in a speedy and precise fashion. 

With my previous experience as a barista, I decided to apply to some cafes in the city. One of the cafes listed on my favourite job site is two blocks from my house, so after applying online, I put on my best job-hunting outfit, printed out a résumé and decided to pay them a visit in person. I may be fairly rejectable on paper, but who can say no to this face?

The cafe was located inside a large corporate building. Everyone was wearing fancy dress suits and carrying sleek briefcases. I got in line, ordered my usual small skinny latte, then nonchalantly pulled out my résumé and asked if they were hiring. The woman behind the counter seemed hesitant, but upon skimming my recent career achievements, smiled and asked me to come behind the drink station and make a cappuccino. 

Oh. I had not seen that one coming. 

The barista on duty was friendly, despite being super busy. She quickly pointed out the different parts of the espresso machine, then asked me to make her a cappuccino.

The cappuccino can be a tricky drink to make quickly, as it requires a generous amount of foam, so it takes slightly more manual labour than other espresso beverages. Here is what it typically looks like:

It had been a while since I had pressed any buttons on an espresso machine, but I managed to succeed in making a foamy, frothy cappuccino that even the Starbucks siren might have appreciated. 

The barista picked up the cup, inspecting my craftsmanship. "This is not a cappuccino. It needs less foam and more milk and a layer of chocolate powder."

She poured it out, and quickly made this:

Fun fact: Australian cappuccinos are very different from American cappucinos. 

I tried to explain the whole "this is how we do it in America?" thing, but I'm pretty sure she thought it was absolute rubbish.

"We'll give you a call!" she said cheerfully. Which is pretty much the job-search equivalent of "let's just be friends!" after a first date. I thanked everyone at the cafe for their time, then walked the two blocks home in defeat.

THE VIETNAMESE RESTAURANT STORY 

Thanks to some new friends via family connections, I was able to interview for a popular Vietnamese restaurant located in the CBD, by doing a four-hour work trial. I've worked at restaurants before, so once again, experience was on my side. So I thought.

The restaurant manager was very friendly, and introduced me to his cheerful staff. One woman had me shadow her, teaching me the process of making specialty Vietnamese rolls - vegetables, protein and noodles tucked neatly into rice paper and served with various sauces.

"First, you dampen the rice paper, then... can you please pass me the coriander?"

"What's coriander?"

She pointed a bowl of cilantro.

"Oh, cilantro!"

"No, that is coriander."

Apparently produce has completely different names in Australia.

For good measure, I held up a bowl of carrot slices. "So, what do you call these?"

"Those are called 'carrots'..."

I was already making a fantastic impression on my new friends.

After attempting to make sixteen sell-able rolls in five minutes, I was then shuffled to the to-go window of the restaurant, where the manager quickly explained the computer system, and partnered me with another friendly woman. The window was opened, revealing maybe about twenty customers in line. Hungry Australian busy business people. Oh dear.

"I'll have atofurollwithsoysauce, asesamesalmonbeefroll, and... aprawnandeggrollwithhoisinsauce, please."

"Coming right up!" my coworker chirped, gathering whatever food items the customer had ordered into a takeout box in swift and graceful motions. "Candice, can you ring it in please?"

I had not taken into account the fact that I might need to become familiar with a variety of things on the menu... spoken in thick Australian accents. My coworker probably repeated everything to me three times before I could find the corresponding buttons on the finicky computer screen, which was not properly responding to the touch of my fingers due to my fresh guitar callouses.

"That'll be $6.70," I told the customer after what seemed like ten minutes, and she kindly handed me a twenty. I punched in the numbers, and the cash drawer violently opened up to reveal... Australian money. Colourful, and very unfamiliar, bills and coins.

Mind you, we've been in Australia for over two months. I've taken cash out of the bank, I've bought things with it, and I can do the math. But at a very slow rate. Not a fast-food-lunch-rush rate, and definitely not at the rate of which I could process American currency at my previous cashiering job. 

I counted out the foreign-to-me coins and bills at the speed of an accomplished kindergarten graduate (why are Australian bills so slippery? why do the $1 coins look so much like the $2 coins? why are there $2 coins??), while my coworker was already asking the third person in line for their order. Which once again, I could not decipher. When I had finally, miraculously caught up on the transactions, my coworker gently prodded me to greet the next person in line.

"Don't be shy! Just say, 'how ya goin'?"

What.

"Ummmm... how you going?" I mumbled in an accent that was not even remotely Australian. Or American. I do not know what it was.

"I'll have threeprawnandeggrollswithasideofhoisinsauce please!"

Ugh.

The hour spent at that to-go window was probably the worst hour of my Australian experience yet. At one point, I seriously considered running away from the restaurant, but in a stealth-like fashion so everyone would just chalk it up to teleportation or spontaneous time-travel. But then I thought better of it, and stayed until the very end, which did not come soon enough.

The manager thanked me for my time, and gently informed me that there were other potential hires that had caught on much faster than me during their work trials. He understood my culture shock regarding currency and language, and offered me a chance to do another trial, if I thought that I could greatly improve. But I kindly declined, thanked him, complimented him on his staff (who were all amazingly friendly and level-headed with me throughout the entire shift, despite my embarassing incompetence), and I dragged my wounded ego home.

THE SILVER LINING

On the bright side, I can now make rice paper rolls for myself and Ben and future house guests. I can order a cappuccino and not be totally confused when I receive an almost-mocha. I can tell $1 and $2 coins apart. And I now know that I would rather not work in the food service industry here, at least for a while. 

not the most photogenic rice rolls, but they're certainly edible!

And so, the great search for an Australian job continues. I've started looking around at music-related careers (which is what I actually got my degree in, hence the experience in food service, haha) and came across this fun composition contest. Coincidentally, the prize is a job offer. If you want to hear something I spent all last week working on, please have a listen! I love Hans Zimmer and it's a longtime dream of mine to write music for films, television, video games and commercials.

Perhaps that's the true silver lining of these failed work experiences: remembering and realising that there is actually something on this planet that I want to do.

CK