Wake up, Melbourne.
By Alice Austin
You’ll find Wake Up Coffee opposite Melbourne Central Station on the corner where China Town begins. Back then in 2011 it was owned by a 40-something Italian man called Oliver who would have been passably attractive if it wasn’t for his stained brown teeth.
I was on a year abroad, out of money and needed a job. Luckily Oliver gave me a trial on the spot and then the job. Three shifts a week from 6am – 1pm on Friday, Saturday and Sunday.
I spent most of my time there working with a woman called Gina from South Korea. At first we got along fine. One morning, as I sipped on a mocha she’d made me in the pre-dawn darkness, she told me she hadn’t had a day off in 3 months. She worked from open to close, 6am – 9pm every day. Her alarm went off at 3 every morning because she lived in the arse-end of nowhere.
I only realised later that her and Oliver, who had a wife and kids, were clearly banging. Every time he came in they would crawl all over each other, Gina’s voice got an octave higher and she’d giggle incessantly.
Gina was early 30s. She was top dog at Wake Up and Oliver’s mole. She fed back to him on the employees. Only 5 people worked there but we all knew for an easy life we needed to be on Gina’s good side.
My shifts were always with Gina and a woman called Lara who made the sandwiches. Lara kept herself to herself, and it didn’t take me long to find out why.
Gina was unhinged. She would fly into absurd child-like rages over impossible-to-predict events. In the mornings Wake Up would get busy as the commuters and weekenders flowed into Melbourne’s Central Station.
Gina’s rage levels would grow alongside the queue that formed. Customers waiting for their Flat White would become startled and anxious by the dangerously charged atmosphere Gina created.
As a newby on the till I often got confused between take-out and have-in and would press the wrong button. Gina refused to pour a have-in coffee into a takeaway cup because it “ruined the foam art” so she’d have to make the coffee again.
The more mistakes I made the angrier she got, the more mistakes I made, the angrier she got. It was a dangerous, vicious cycle. Maybe it was the free coffee but I’d notice my hands shaking hours after my shift had finished.
After the early-morning rush died down Gina would refuse to speak or look at me. I’d spend the rest of my shift either in silence or accepting niggling insults from her. “Your big feet are in my way” (they’re size 5) “Have you even used a till before?” (no) “Your accent is irritating” (fair enough).
Once she saw me flirting with this (literally, swoon) Scottish guy and tapped me on the shoulder so hard that I later noticed a small bruise. “Alice, back to work.”
After 3 weeks at Wake Up I knew my days were numbered. Gina’s dislike for me was hardening. Once she informed on my till skills to Oliver, I’d be out.
It all came to a head one day. It was 8am on a Sunday morning and a young, unassuming trainee was with us for a few hours. Gina was in the worst mood I’d seen so far; she’d got out the wrong side of the bed at 3am that morning.
She was teaching the girl how to use the coffee machine and getting more pissed off by the second. The girl kept messing up because she was absolutely terrified. It was most scary when Gina tried to control her rage – her voice would go quiet and strained and you knew something inside her was about to snap.
“You need to clack this three times and then begin frothing the milk, otherwise it’ll get congealed while the customer is waiting,” she said dangerously controlled. The next time the girl did 2 clacks, frothed the milk and dropped a tiny porcelain milk jar on the floor. Me and the trainee looked at the jar and then at each other, fear in our eyes. Gina snapped. She got the half-made take-out coffee and threw it against the wall.
Me, the trainee and Gina watched the brown coffee drip down the wall in shocked silence. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Gina what the FUCK.”
She pounded three short steps over to me. “Alice I’ve had enough of your attitu-“ The door clanged open and a customer walked in. Gina turned, the shadow lifted from her face and with a ginormous smile she said “Hi there what can we get for you?”
The next day as I lay on the grass outside Melbourne university my phone buzzed. It was Oliver letting me know my services would no longer be required.
