Job Search Part Five.

According to several coffee publications, one of the best places to get a short mac these days is a funky little cafe near South Yarra train station. I decided to drop in and give them a copy of my CV, which I have had to edit down to six pages now that Caffe Cinque is no longer paying for my photo copying.

This funky little cafe looked like a funky little science lab in an Ikea catalogue; industrial furniture, floor to ceiling glass and just the right amount of colour. I was surrounded by vintage coffee machines and beautiful people sipping espresso.

The staff were young and hip and seemed happy to be there.

The barista back washed after every shot and described coffee the way I had been taught to describe wine at the CAE.

No one wore a uniform, no one yelled at the customers, no one was scared of the dish pig.

I had died and gone to Heaven.

But...I realised that if worked here, I would have to work. There is nowhere to hide if you want to make a quick phone call or work on your novella. There is nowhere to hide if you want to read the Epicure from cover to cover in case you get a mention.

Worse than that, I would have to work with someone who knew more about coffee than I did, and while I might learn something, I would never be Head Barista, I probably wouldn't even be allowed on the coffee machine.

I finished my sweet, fruity, full bodied ristretto and left, depressed in the knowledge that the only place I would be happy working is Caffe Cinque Cafe/Restaurant/Bar.