#weekend barista jobs sydney
Note
Hi how are you? I hope well! so i really like your writing actually ur my fav writer here on tumblr ;). So i had this idea for a fanfic by Miranda Hilmarson x reader. It was about Miranda being a traffic cop sometimes too and then she ends up giving the reader a ticket in one day and the reader gets really mad and even fights with Miranda, and then they end up meeting again, but what Miranda didn't know was that the reader would be her new boss!! From there I leave it to you, it can even be an enemies to lovers, you know.
I just had this silly idea, maybe you'll like it and I'd be super happy if you wrote it.💗
another thing! English is not my language, I'm literally writing this through Google translator so if something seems strange to you, you already know ☠️
A/N: thank you sooo much, that is so kind of you! I really liked this request and enjoyed writing it - it's my first time writing for Miranda so I really hope it's okay <3 just gonna post this and go hide now ahhhh
not your fault
Words: ~7.4k | ao3 link in title
Content/warnings: slight enemies to lovers, mentions of Adrian Butler (ugh), reader has a temper - poor Miranda is on the receiving end, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, employee-boss relationship, angry Miranda, but also adorable puppy Miranda, nsfw (smut) - vaginal fingering, cunnilingus
“Are you fucking kidding me…” You groaned under your breath as you snatched up the little piece of paper stuck between your windshield wipers - a parking ticket. You were already running late thanks to your cat having puked all over your carpet that morning, and thanks to the barista at the coffee shop who’d taken ages with your latte - and now you were going to be even later.
You whipped your head around, looking for the officer who’d given you the ticket. A tall, blonde woman in a police uniform was strolling down the line of parked cars, handing out tickets to each one. The officer turned as you stomped over, eyes widening as you advanced on her until you were standing right in front of her. You had to crane your neck up to look at her - in any other situation, you might have found this insanely arousing, but right now you were far too pissed.
“Care to explain this?” You waved the paper in her face - she went slightly cross-eyed as her eyes followed your movements.
“Uh, that’s a parking ticket, ma’am.” The officer swallowed visibly, taking a step back.
“I park here every goddamn day,” you hissed.
“I’m sorry…” She seemed a bit dazed and distracted for a moment as she regarded you, her eyes darting between your own, before straightening her posture and clearing her throat. “There’s, uh, a festival downtown this weekend, they’ve closed most of the parking zones until it’s over. There’s a sign at the start of the road.” She nodded her head over to a single sign set up at the next intersection, one that you had clearly missed in your rush.
You were seething, a billion arguments ready on your tongue, but the clock was ticking - and in the end, she was right, no matter how pissed you were.
“You know what, fucking forget it. I’m already running late! Thanks for nothing.” You stomped back to your car and crumpled up the parking ticket, tossing it on the passenger seat and groaning in frustration - the officer stood rooted to the spot, watching as you drove away.
~~~
Not wanting to get a speeding ticket in addition to your parking ticket, you took your time driving to the police station for your first day on the job. You’d just moved to Sydney to replace Adrian Butler as he left his position to “focus on his marriage” - you hadn’t even started yet and had already heard rumors of his extramarital affair with a constable. Men are pigs, you thought as you strode into the station and took the elevator up to the third floor, half an hour later than you’d planned.
The room was buzzing when you walked in but as soon as you cleared your throat and made your presence known, everyone went silent.
“I’ll spare you all the usual ‘first day’ speech - you should know who I am. I’m sure we’ll all get to know each other well over the course of the coming weeks, but for now I already have my hands full with everything that Detective Sergeant Butler so generously left for me.”
Your eyes landed on an empty desk near the center of the room. “Who usually sits there? Are they out sick?”
Some of the men began to snicker - one in particular answered your question. “Oh, that’s Hilmarson.” He smirked and took a sip from his coffee mug as he leaned against the side of the copy machine.
You raised an eyebrow. “And? Where is Constable Hilmarson?”
The elevator doors opened behind you and you turned around, eyes widening as you were confronted with the tall, blonde officer who’d given you a ticket. Her own shocked expression mirrored yours.
“That’d be her.” The man - Constable Brown, you’d later come to learn - chuckled, his smirk widening.
“Constable.” You glared pointedly at Constable Hilmarson. “My office, now.”
She frowned and followed you to the small office at the side of the room. You closed the door behind her and took a seat behind your new desk, gesturing for the officer to sit. She scrambled rather clumsily towards the chair and sat down, looking like a child about to be reprimanded.
“Constable Hilmarson, is it? Miranda?” You regarded her carefully. Her cheeks were rosy with embarrassment, her eyes wide as saucers. And, God, were they blue. They were mesmerizing. Miranda bobbed her head up and down in answer to your question, a bit of her pale blonde hair falling in her eye. She raised a hand to her head, dragging long fingers through her hair to brush it back - you had to physically shake your head to stop yourself from getting distracted by her movements.
“I like to be prepared, Constable. So I was having a look at your file the other day, you see, and I was under the impression that you are currently on a homicide case with Detective Griffin. Or am I mistaken?”
“Yes - I mean, no, you’re not mistaken.” Miranda shook her head furiously.
“Then pray tell, Constable - why on earth did you spend your morning handing out fucking parking tickets?” You couldn’t keep the venom out of your voice as you questioned Miranda - something about her was pissing you off (or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t even been able to drink your coffee yet), and you were having trouble reigning in your emotions.
Miranda’s face was bright red and her hands shook slightly. “I lost a bet,” she mumbled, unable to meet your gaze.
“Louder.”
She cleared her throat, her eyes locking with yours. “I lost a bet. I had to take over Constable Brown’s duties for the morning.”
You sighed, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose.
“I’m not here to play games. Do you understand that?” Your voice was sickly sweet, bordering on condescension - it was not lost on Miranda, who was starting to look like she wanted to argue.
Evidently, she thought better of it at the last second, for she simply nodded as she glowered at you.
“You’re here to do your job, not Constable Brown’s job. And I expect you to do your job well. So, seeing as you’ve not only made me late, wasted your entire morning, and wasted even more of my time with this silly conversation, I would appreciate it if you could get to work. Now.”
Miranda stood abruptly, sending a stack of papers flying from your desk as she stormed from the room. You rubbed your temples, wincing at the force with which she closed the door behind her - you were already starting to develop a headache, and it wasn’t even 10 am.
~~~
As the morning went on, you found yourself growing more and more agitated, unable to focus on anything. You realized as your stomach growled for the fourth (or was it the fifth?) time that, in your rush, you’d skipped breakfast.
The second the clock hit 12 for your lunch break, you were on your feet. You’d have to work through much of your break to catch up, but you could afford to take a few minutes to grab a coffee and a granola bar from the vending machines in the lobby.
Passing by Miranda’s desk, you noticed that her chair was empty - the sight made your blood boil. You took a deep breath to calm yourself down - it was her lunch break, too, and she had every right to leave her desk during that time. Her messy, cluttered desk… You clenched your fists and headed for the elevator.
That wasn’t the only time her desk was empty, however. Throughout the afternoon, you would look up from your paperwork (you found that Adrian had been terrible at properly filing paperwork, making your job that much harder) every so often - and more times than not, the constable was nowhere in sight. With a frustrated sigh, you stood and strode over to open the window - you desperately needed the fresh air if you were going to make it home without strangling someone.
The sight of Miranda smoking a cigarette in the alley next to the station, just under your window, had you clenching your jaw, nostrils flaring. You couldn’t help yourself - you immediately headed towards the elevator and took rapid steps out of the station, rounding the corner and advancing on the constable, whose back was turned to you.
“Hilmarson!” you barked - Miranda flinched as she turned to face you.
“What did I do now? Am I not allowed to smoke or something?” She sounded agitated, and that made you even angrier.
“This is your fourth smoke break in the past two hours alone. If your habits are going to get in the way of your job, then I suggest you-”
“You know, you’re really stressing me out!” Miranda yelled back, gesticulating wildly as she spoke. “I’ll do my damned job, okay? You’re just really not making it easy.”
You laughed - it was hollow and sarcastic - and took a step closer to Miranda. Your face was inches away from hers now - this close, your eyes were drawn to her lips, soft and plush, trembling slightly with anger. A little scar adorned her top lip and your gaze lingered there for a moment, arousal pooling in your core - until Miranda brought the cigarette back to her mouth to take a drag.
Torn from your trance, you plucked it from her grip and dropped it to the ground, crushing it with your boot.
“Talk to me like that again and I’m sending you home for the rest of the day. Now get back upstairs.”
Miranda pushed roughly past you, her shoulder bumping into yours as she headed back into the station. You leaned against the wall and let out a loud groan, your eyes fluttering shut. Why was Miranda determined to make your day as difficult as humanly possible?
With a heavy sigh, you opened your eyes and pushed off the wall, following the constable back inside.
~~~
Your second day on the job started out significantly better than your first. You managed to eat breakfast, get coffee, and make it to work on time, all without getting a parking ticket or arguing with a certain constable. Miranda had been at her desk when you’d walked past it and, mercifully, hadn’t said a word to you - though you could feel her eyes on you as you disappeared into your office.
When you left your office for your lunch break, you found the main office empty - you figured most of your officers were taking their lunch break as well. You strode over to the little kitchen, reaching for the handle when the door swung open in your face - your body colliding with a much taller one. You heard a gasp above you and looked up to see Miranda standing directly in front of you, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in shock.
It was then that you realized your shirt suddenly felt a bit wet - your eyes fell to the half-empty bowl in Miranda’s hand, then to your torso, which was covered in milk and little pieces of cereal.
“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” you growled, pushing past Miranda and ignoring the apologies that poured profusely from her mouth. You grabbed a fistful of paper towels and dabbed at your shirt, quickly realizing that it was no use - you’d have to get changed.
You spun around when you felt a hand on your arm, glaring up at Miranda who looked down at you apprehensively. At your furious expression, she pulled her hand away as if burned. “Do you need help?”
Sighing, you closed your eyes and attempted to reign in your temper. “No,” you grit out. “It’s fine, you’ve done enough. I just have to go home to get changed, I guess.”
“Well if you don’t have a shirt with you then you can borrow mine?”
Your eyes flew open, meeting Miranda’s soft gaze before flickering down to her torso. “W-what?”
“I mean, I have an extra shirt in my locker.” Miranda gestured back towards the elevator with her thumb, a faint smirk playing upon her lips - the fact that you had just basically ogled her chest was not lost on her, apparently.
You could feel your cheeks turn red and you looked down at your own shirt, clinging to your chest - it had turned slightly see-through, and you could see your bra through the thin fabric. The drive home would cost you your entire lunch break, and Miranda did owe you for this… You sighed heavily.
“Yeah, sure.”
Miranda smiled, her eyes lighting up and crinkling at the outer corners - it was the first time you’d seen her properly smile, and it was beautiful. She crossed the kitchen and peered out the door into the office.
“The coast is clear,” she said with a grin, gesturing for you to follow her. You rolled your eyes and the two of you headed down to the empty locker rooms.
“I always bring something to change into after work,” Miranda supplied as she busied herself with opening her locker. “It might be a bit big on you but at least nobody will be able to see your bra.”
You started to unbutton your shirt, feeling Miranda’s eyes on you as you did so. It was hard to focus with the constable in such close proximity - you struggled with the buttons as you found yourself growing more and more flustered.
“Here, let me help,” she murmured, and before you could stop her, her hands were on the buttons of your shirt. Her fingers brushed against the swell of your chest, just above the fabric of your bra, and you shivered visibly, your mouth going dry.
“T-thanks but I got it,” you mumbled, gently pushing Miranda’s hand away. “Could you turn around?”
Miranda furrowed her brow, her face flushing. “Oh, sorry!” She placed a baby blue t-shirt on the bench next to you, then turned and studied the bare wall with great interest as you got changed.
“You can turn around again,” you said, clearing your throat. Miranda did as she was told, her eyes getting stuck on your chest for a moment before meeting your gaze. Your anger had all but dissipated, replaced with an unfamiliar and somewhat unsettling tension as you looked at Miranda, your stomach flipping.
“Uh, thanks,” you whispered. “For the shirt.”
Miranda’s lips curled up into a smile. “Yeah, of course. You know, I’m really excited to have another woman on the force. Last night I was looking into your case in Auckland before you got promoted - I talked to Robin about it, even she was impressed.”
For once, you were left speechless. For all the crap you’d given Miranda since meeting her, she seemed so genuine and excited to be speaking with you in that moment - you could feel yourself get flustered again, and all you could do was nod your head as she spoke.
“Oh, my lunch break is over so I have to go meet Robin but, uh, I’ll see you later, yeah?”
You nodded absentmindedly, stuck on the way Miranda’s hands moved as she spoke and the brightness of her eyes. She shot you one last grin before turning and taking long strides out of the locker rooms, leaving you to stand there in a daze, holding your wet shirt.
~~~
It was finally Friday and you’d been invited to go to the bar for drinks after work to celebrate the end of your first week - you stood in the lobby of the station, waiting for Robin to join your group before heading out.
Since the little cereal incident, you were trying to actively avoid thinking about, looking at, or talking to Miranda, but she was making that damned near impossible. When you’d returned her shirt back to her, freshly washed, she made sure to allow her fingers to brush against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. She wasn’t at her desk much throughout the day, off investigating leads with Robin, and for that you were grateful - but every time you saw her desk, littered with empty takeout containers, paperwork, coffee mugs, you felt a twinge of annoyance, followed by a sinking feeling of guilt that you couldn’t quite place. As a result, you spent much more time than you wanted sitting at your desk, dissecting your feelings for the blonde but coming up empty.
The door to the station opened and a civilian walked in with a small goldendoodle on a leash. A gasp sounded to your right and you couldn’t help yourself - your eyes followed the sound just in time to see Miranda crouch down and extend her arms towards the dog, which jumped excitedly up at her, trying to lick her face.
You couldn’t tell who was more excited about the interaction - Miranda, or the dog. The blonde was letting out little squeals of delight, cooing at the dog as she buried her fingers in its fur.
“Pull yourself together, Constable,” you grumbled, annoyed mostly at yourself for the way your stomach was reacting to the sight of Miranda cuddling the dog. It was childish and unprofessional… You most definitely did not think it was cute. Not even a little bit, no… You blushed and looked away as Miranda stood up, missing the look of disappointment in her puppy-like eyes.
After that, though, you found you couldn’t even enjoy getting drinks with your colleagues - your mind was going in circles and you were unable to shake off this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You sat at a booth near the back of the bar, nursing a beer as everyone around you joked around and slowly got drunk.
You couldn’t keep your gaze from wandering towards Miranda, who was seated at the opposite end of the table. She sipped her beer, smiling occasionally at something one of the others said - your eyes, once again, got stuck on her smile. The upward quirk of her lips, the subtle scrunch of her nose, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. When she caught you staring, however, she quickly looked away, the smile sliding right off her face.
It affected you more than you would care to let on - as soon as her smile was gone, you wished for it back - desperately. And it was stupid, really - she’d somehow managed to sour your mood every single day this week, and yet your body was reacting to her in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time. With a sigh, you drained your beer and ordered a second one - this was going to be a long night.
~~~
If you’d thought your second week on the job would start better than the first, well - you’d quickly find out just how wrong you were.
Monday morning started like any other - you strode into the office with your coffee to-go cup, passing by Miranda’s empty desk. There was a half-empty bowl of cereal at the edge, stacks of manila folders and paperwork strewn over the surface, an empty, crumpled paper bag from the local bakery that had been tossed unceremoniously onto the computer keyboard. It stirred up a twinge of annoyance in you, but you tried your best to shake off the feeling.
Looking up and seeing the blonde standing at the coffee machine in the kitchen, you quickly averted your gaze and hurried to your office.
Your mind began to wander as you answered your emails and a flash of blonde through the window in your office caught your eye. Miranda walked back to her seat, a mug in her hand. She reached her desk and distractedly looked up, talking enthusiastically with Robin as she placed the mug down on a teetering pile of papers.
You looked on in horror as the pile slowly toppled over, spilling coffee all over her desk - you couldn’t bear to watch anymore, dropping your head into your hands in frustration as you heard Miranda let out a gasp.
Not my problem, you thought, trying to take steadying breaths. It wasn’t your desk that she’d spilled her coffee on, after all.
You stood and made your way to your office door, calling out for Robin.
“Yeah?”
“Did you manage to get a copy of the autopsy results already? I really need them.”
Robin shifted slightly from foot to foot, a frown growing on her face - you really didn’t like the look of that.
“Actually, I sent Miranda to get them this morning.”
Raising an eyebrow, you looked past Robin at her colleague, who was frantically wiping up the spilled coffee from her desk. “Hilmarson, can I get those autopsy results?”
Miranda looked up, freezing in her movements. Her eyes darted between you and her desk and her cheeks were rapidly turning pink. “They, uh… Got a bit soggy.” She strode over to you with a piece of paper in her hand. You took it gingerly, a look of disgust forming on your face as the entire thing was brown and dripping wet.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” you growled. Miranda shrugged sheepishly and muttered out an apology - you glared at her in return. “I need you to get me a fresh copy by this afternoon.”
Miranda opened her mouth to speak but you interrupted her, balling your hand into a fist and crumpling up the paper, tossing it on her desk. “And tidy your fucking desk like a grown up,” you snarled.
Miranda’s face was red as she turned sharply on her heel and stormed out of the office, taking large strides towards the elevators and disappearing from view.
“She grows on you,” Robin supplied quietly, watching you watch Miranda. You snorted.
“I doubt it.” Your stomach churned uncomfortably even as you said those words. Why did this woman have such an effect on you?
“She’s been having a rough time, ever since the breakup with Adrian.” Your eyes widened at this piece of information - you’d known about Adrian’s affair, of course, but you’d never thought it would be with Miranda. “They were going to have a baby together, you know.”
You coughed, choking on your own saliva. “They what?” You couldn’t picture Miranda as a mother - she was far too clumsy and chaotic… and goofy. And generous. Okay, maybe you could picture it, a little bit. Your stomach churned uncomfortably - you didn’t know the details of the affair, but breakups were rough - you’d moved across the country after your last breakup. You suddenly felt ashamed for being such a bitch to her.
“Yeah, well…” You cleared your throat awkwardly. “I have a lot of work to do, so if you don’t mind…” You forced a smile and Robin raised her eyebrows, nodding and leaving you be. You tried to focus after that but you couldn’t, your mind wandering quite insistently to a certain constable. Guilt began to gnaw at your insides after having been so harsh with her. You’d have to - you wanted to - apologize for your behavior.
You locked yourself in your office and finished replying to your emails. Even half an hour later, Miranda was still not at her desk - nor was she in the kitchen, the locker rooms, or the alley under your window. You finally found her behind the station, looking out over the water and smoking a cigarette.
“Hey,” you called, your heart clenching when you saw Miranda flinch as she turned to face you.
“Oh fuck. Look, I’m sorry, okay, I-”
“I’m the one who should apologize. Robin told me it was you.”
Miranda’s face scrunched up in confusion. She dropped her cigarette and took a step towards you. “Sorry?”
“You know, with Adrian.”
Recognition flooded Miranda’s features and she dropped her gaze to the pavement. “Oh.” She let out a hollow chuckle and turned again, walking towards the water and lowering herself to sit at the edge. You followed and took a seat next to her, leaving a healthy distance between the two of you.
“Men are pigs, you know?” Miranda said after a moment’s silence. A loud snort escaped your lips, causing Miranda to laugh - you hadn’t heard her laugh so freely before, but it made your heart soar and you thought it might be your new favorite sound in the world. It wasn’t quite melodic, not necessarily akin to birdsong - it was loud and unabashed and very Miranda, and for some reason you found you really liked that. You couldn’t help but laugh, too.
“You’re alright, you know that, Hilmarson?” you said with a grin, gently bumping your shoulder into hers. Miranda’s laughter slowly died out but the smile remained on her face, accompanied by a faint blush.
“Thanks. You are, too.”
~~~
“Hilmarson.” You slung your jacket over your shoulder as you strode past Miranda’s desk the following day around noon. Her eyes grew wide and she dropped the pen she was holding, straightening her posture. “Come with me.”
Miranda scrambled to get up, slipping her phone into her pocket and following you to the elevators and out of the building.
“Where are we going?” she asked, confusion evident in her tone as she scurried after you. You bypassed the parking lot, heading down the street instead.
“You’ll see,” you said with a smirk, wordlessly offering Miranda a cigarette. She fumbled around in her pocket for a lighter but you were quicker, holding up your own. “Hold still,” you murmured, holding the lighter up to her cigarette and lighting it for her, your eyes catching on the way her long, slender fingers held it, as if it were a delicate thing.
Your destination was a nearby coffee shop, and you held the door open for Miranda to step through. “After you,” you purred, smirking at Miranda’s wide eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, she scrambled into the cafe, waiting awkwardly for you at the counter.
“It’s on me,” you said before ordering yourself a latte and a sandwich. “Get anything you like.”
Minutes later, you were sitting together at a little table in the corner.
“Look,” you started with a sigh. Miranda tilted her head. “Can we start over? I haven’t exactly been fair to you. You aren’t the reason I was late last week. I was angry and took it out on you, and that was really shitty of me.”
“I did spill cereal all over your shirt, though,” Miranda murmured with a sheepish grin, her cheeks turning adorably rosy.
“Yeah. Yeah, you did,” you said with a laugh. “That’s not the point, though. You’re too good to let yourself get walked all over, you know that?”
Miranda shrugged, unable to fully meet your gaze and focusing instead on her panini, out of which she took a huge bite.
“Not by me, not by Constable Brown, not by Adrian - you’re a solid officer and you have potential, you just need to stand your ground more.”
“Oh god,” Miranda spoke through a full mouth, her voice slightly garbled, her eyes wide. “Is this a performance review or something?”
You laughed, your stomach flipping as her blush deepened. “No. I just…” You hesitated, biting your lip and looking away. I just really like you. “I just wanted to apologize. I want us to work together, not against each other.”
“Really?” Miranda grinned, her eyes sparkling - the hope written across her face nearly made your heart stop, and you nodded. “I was so scared when I found out you were my new boss. I really thought you hated me.”
“I did, too,” you said with a laugh. “But… for the record, I don’t. I hope you don’t hate me.”
Miranda’s cheeks puffed out as she chewed and she smiled widely. “I don’t.”
~~~
Ever since your lunch “date”, your feelings for Miranda were only growing. Your heart skipped a beat when you caught sight of her at the station, your stomach fluttered when you heard her voice. You even found yourself timing your smoke breaks with hers, just so you would have an excuse to chat with her and bask in her presence.
The following Friday at the bar, Miranda chose to sit down next to you. She placed a beer in front of you and offered you a wide smile - you felt your face flush as you muttered out an uncharacteristically shy “thank you”.
The two of you listened to your colleagues talk and banter - or rather, perhaps Miranda was listening, but you definitely weren’t. You were far too focused on the constable and your close proximity to one another; the way her shoulder bumped yours every so often, the way her hand flexed around her beer bottle, the way her throat bobbed whenever she took a sip.
Miranda laughed, throwing her head back, her shoulders shaking. She looked to the side, meeting your gaze - you couldn’t help but grin giddily back at her, chuckling a bit, and you could see her cheeks turn red as she returned your grin.
After your third beer, you started to feel a little daring - you placed your hand gingerly on her thigh, your touch feather light as you were afraid of crossing a line. To your surprise, Miranda placed her own hand on top of yours - it was warm and soft and large, and you could feel your pulse pick up as her long fingers curled slightly around yours. When you dared to steal a glance in her direction, you could see a soft smile playing upon her lips.
~~~
“Hey.” A low voice coming from the doorway to your office caused you to look up from your laptop. A smile involuntarily spread across your face seeing Miranda leaning awkwardly against the doorframe, her hands clasped behind her back.
“Hi,” you replied - Miranda hadn’t come into your office proactively since you’d started working at the station, but you supposed a lot had changed in the past few days. “Do you need something?”
Miranda shook her head. “No, I, uh, I actually wanted to ask if you’d want to come over to my place for a beer or something tonight?”
“Oh.” A swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach at the prospect of spending one-on-one time with the blonde - who was looking increasingly like she was about to throw up, the longer you took to reply. “Yeah, yes, I would love to.”
Miranda’s eyes widened. “Okay, great. I’ll send you my address. How’s 7?”
“7 is perfect,” you said with a growing blush, chuckling as Miranda rushed back to her desk to grab her phone - your own phone pinged with a text moments later: an address.
~~~
You showed up promptly at 7, your heart pounding fiercely against your ribcage as you knocked on the door to Miranda’s apartment.
The door swung open to reveal the tall blonde, wearing the blue shirt she’d loaned you after spilling cereal all over you, as well as a pair of shorts.
“Blue is definitely your color,” you said before you could stop yourself. It really was, though - it brought out the blues of her eyes, making them shine and sparkle against her pale skin.
“Thank you,” Miranda said with a laidback grin, gesturing for you to enter her apartment. It surprised you to see that it wasn’t as messy as you’d have assumed it to be - it was definitely lived in, but it was clean and had very home-y vibes. More than anything, the first thing you noticed was the smell. It smelled like Miranda - light and clean, but with the faint scent of cigarettes clinging to the air. Her shirt had smelled like that, too, when you’d borrowed it, and though you never would have admitted it back then, you’d buried your nose in the fabric more than once before begrudgingly washing and returning it.
Miranda offered you a beer and guided you to her living room, settling on the couch and motioning for you to join her. The couch was relatively small and though you tried to leave some space between you, your knee ended up pressing lightly against Miranda’s thigh.
Despite your nerves, it somehow felt right to be in her space. You felt as though you were able to see a whole new side to Miranda - a side that you really liked. As the two of you engaged in some timid small-talk, you couldn’t help but wonder why she’d invited you - you hoped it was for the same reason that you’d said yes.
“God, I was so nervous to ask you to come over,” Miranda said with a cackle, shaking her head at herself before taking a swig of her beer.
“Were you?” The thought amused you greatly, and it gave you a shot of confidence. You dropped your voice an octave and leaned forward. “Do I make you nervous?”
Miranda looked like a deer caught in headlights, her eyes widening. Your eyes flicked briefly to her lips, to her wet, pink tongue darting out to lick them, and you found yourself leaning even closer.
“What would you do if I kissed you right now?” you murmured, scanning Miranda’s face for any sign of discomfort. Miranda’s pupils dilated and her lips parted slightly.
“I would kiss you back,” she whispered, her gaze landing on your lips.
“Yeah?” you whispered back with a smile. Miranda nodded slowly.
“Uh-huh.”
You closed the gap, your lips meeting hers - she tasted like beer and cigarettes, and her lips were impossibly soft. She kissed you back eagerly, whimpering a little as your tongue darted out over her lower lip.
You pulled back, your cheeks covered in a light blush.
“I’m sorry, I hope that wasn’t-” you started, but Miranda interrupted you with a second kiss, this one deeper and hungrier than the first as her hands grabbed your cheeks, holding you in place. Her tongue licked greedily at the seam of your lips, which you immediately parted for her. You let out a deep groan as her tongue slipped into your mouth, dancing with yours in near-desperation.
“You taste so good,” Miranda moaned, her voice low and sultry, and desire pooled in your core.
“Mmmh,” was all you could reply as your hands gripped at Miranda’s waist and you swung your leg over her lap to straddle her. Her hands slid down to your waist, then your hips, then came to rest on top of your thighs. She gave them a squeeze and you found yourself involuntarily grinding your pelvis into her lap, her touch sending your body into overdrive.
“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, Miranda swallowing your words as your bodies pressed against each other, a steady and suffocating heat building between the two of you.
The constable’s hands slipped under your ass and she turned you onto your back - breaking the kiss only briefly to position herself above you. One of her knees came to rest between your legs and she pushed it against your core, drawing a groan from your throat. The pressure was delicious against your aching sex and you bucked your hips to get some much-needed relief.
Miranda’s lips left your own and began to trail down your chin, your throat, your chest, stopping at the top button of your shirt - hot, wet, needy. She lifted her head and you looked down to meet her gaze - her pupils were blown wide with lust, her cheeks gorgeously flushed, her hair tousled.
“We- fuck,” you started breathily, finding it almost impossible to think as Miranda’s knee pressed against your clit. “We should slow down.”
Miranda nodded, her eyes widening and her cheeks bright red as she reluctantly pulled her leg away from your cunt. You bit down on your lower lip to stop a whine from slipping out at the loss of friction.
The constable settled half on top of you, leaning against the back of the couch and propping her head up on her arm. She closed her eyes as she tried to steady her heavy, ragged breathing. “Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with want. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Miranda’s eyes snapped open and she met your gaze, a slow, easy grin spreading across her face. “You’re not. I want this.”
“I don’t think I just want this,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and swallowing hard. “I want you.”
“I want you, too.”
You opened your eyes and met Miranda’s bright, eager gaze, searching her face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. “Are you sure?”
Miranda nodded and you lunged forward, your lips crashing into hers as your hand snaked its way around the back of her head, holding her in place. Your fingers threaded through her hair - it felt like silk under your skin.
Your other hand settled on her waist, tugging her on top of you - her body weight pressed you down into the couch and you groaned at the feeling. You needed more, you wanted more, so your hands found the hem of Miranda’s t-shirt and you slipped underneath it. Her bare skin was impossibly smooth, and you felt electricity coursing through your body at the feeling of her soft hips in your hands. Your hands found their way up her back and you raked your nails over the expanse of it, pleased with the hungry growl that escaped Miranda’s lips.
Finding the clasp of her bra, you unclipped it, slipping a hand around to the front of her torso and under the loose fabric to palm her breast. She grasped desperately at your waist as your warm palm rubbed over her nipple, rolling it into a hard peak. Miranda let out a breathy sigh and sat up, straddling your waist and pulling her shirt off. Her bra followed, and both were discarded on the floor behind the couch.
You felt the air leave your lungs as you stared up at Miranda - your mouth going dry. Her rosy nipples contrasted against her pale skin, her abdomen rippled with every heaving breath that she took. You couldn’t help but reach out and touch her, caressing her hips, her stomach, her breasts - flicking your thumbs over her pert nipples and watching them harden further.
Sitting up, you hungrily took one of the rosy buds into your mouth, sucking greedily and soothing your tongue over it as you felt Miranda’s hands thread through your hair. You repeated the process on her other nipple, thoroughly pleased with yourself when Miranda let out a soft, breathy moan - one that was so deliciously pornographic that you felt a wave of arousal course through you, your panties growing damp.
You released Miranda’s nipple, your hands drifting down to the buckle of her belt and making quick work of undoing it. Miranda took the hint, removing her pants in a hurry and then focusing her attention on your own clothes. Your own shirt was unbuttoned and tossed aside in an instant, your pants tugged down your legs and dropped onto the floor with the rest of the clothing.
Miranda’s bare skin was hot against your own and you pulled her back down on top of you, your pussy throbbing as her nipples brushed against yours. You kissed her with hunger and passion, your left hand palming her ass as your right hand found its way between your bodies to cup her pussy over her underwear.
The constable groaned, immediately grinding against your hand - you noticed that she’d soaked through the thin cotton of her underwear. You pulled the fabric aside and curled your fingers against the length of her slit, letting out a gasp as you felt her dripping for you.
“I need you,” she whined, shuddering as your fingers explored her folds - letting out a strangled whimper when you smeared her wetness over her clit and began to draw lazy circles over the bundle of nerves.
Miranda turned out to be as loud as she was sensitive - you found it easy to bring her to the edge, time and time again, your fingers applying a gentle pressure to her clit and pumping easily in and out of her, her slick walls drawing your digits in and clenching tightly around them. Her unabashed moans filled the air, echoing off the walls of the living room and having you wondering - only briefly, though - how thick those walls were.
After her fifth orgasm, when the stimulation finally became too much for her, Miranda whimpered and shifted her pelvis away from you. Taking the hint, you pulled your hand out of her underwear, your fingers shining with her arousal. You lifted them to Miranda’s face, smirking when she immediately opened her mouth and allowed you to place your fingers on her tongue. She sucked them clean, her flushed cheeks hollowing out, her kiss-swollen lips wrapped around your knuckles.
You leaned forward to kiss her as she released your fingers, eager to taste the remnants of her orgasm on her tongue. The taste was heavenly - you were almost sorry that Miranda was so overstimulated - you’d have given everything to go down on her.
She pulled back from the kiss, her hot, heavy breath ghosting over your face as she rested her forehead against your own, trying to steady her breathing. A bead of sweat had collected on her forehead and you reached up to wipe it away, tucking a strand of mussed hair behind her ear. It was too short, of course, and immediately fell back into her face - it made you smile, and Miranda smiled - no, beamed - back, her eyes sparkling.
“I hope that wasn’t too much,” you whispered into the silence - Miranda blushed and shook her head no. Her fingers danced along the waistband of your underwear, lightly at first as she leaned in for a languid kiss. Then her fingers curled under the waistband and began tugging, her lips trailing down your jaw, your throat, your sternum, your stomach - soft, warm, wet, hungry. She tugged your underwear down your legs, her lips immediately replacing the fabric as she pressed kisses to your mound, to your inner thighs - finally disappearing between your legs.
You felt her tongue lap hungrily at your folds, little noises of pleasure coming from between your thighs and vibrating against your cunt. It was both adorable and extremely hot at the same time, how eagerly Miranda ate you out - sloppy, yet determined (and very skilled, you noted mentally, letting out a filthy groan as her lips latched onto your clit, her tongue flicking at the sensitive little bundle).
By the time Miranda was finished with you, your thighs were trembling and your breathing was ragged. The constable pressed one final kiss to your clit, before sitting up and grinning goofily down at you. Her chin was coated in your slick and her cheeks were flushed, and you couldn’t help but loop an arm around her neck and pull her close, licking your own arousal off her face before meeting her lips in a slow, sensual kiss.
After what felt like hours holding each other, kissing and regaining your breaths, you felt your eyes begin to grow heavy and you sighed.
“I should probably get going,” you murmured, your voice slightly hoarse.
“Yeah - of course.” Miranda blushed as she pushed herself off you. “Can you just wait here?”
You nodded, furrowing your brows as the constable stood and walked out of the room. You heard the tap running, then she came back with a wet washcloth.
“Is it okay if I…” Her eyes darted down between your legs as she took a seat next to you.
It was your turn to blush. “Yeah, that’s okay. Thanks.”
Miranda cleaned you up with great care, being extra gentle as she soothed the washcloth over your clit. When she was done, you got dressed in silence, then allowed Miranda to walk you to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob.
“Would you want to…” she trailed off, not quite able to meet your gaze.
“Are you busy Saturday? Would you like to go on a date with me?” You couldn’t help but smile as Miranda’s eyes widened and she began to nod, a look of relief washing over her face as her lips curled upwards.
“Yeah - I’m not busy, I would love to.”
“Good.” You smirked, leaning in to press your lips to Miranda’s - her breath hitched in her chest. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
You turned to leave, exiting the apartment and walking down the hall. Turning around to wave goodbye, you could see Miranda smiling as her head poked out from behind the door.
That night, you fell asleep with a soft smile on your face and a warmth in your belly - already mentally planning your date.
x
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1. GENERAL
2. APPEARANCE
3. PERSONALITY
4. APPAREL
5. RELATIONSHIPS
6. COMBAT
7. BACKSTORY
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
GENERAL INFORMATION
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
— FULL NAME ᥫ᭡
Min-Ya Choi
— ALIAS ᥫ᭡
Minnie, Ms. Choi
— DATE OF BIRTH ᥫ᭡
3rd of September
— AGE ᥫ᭡
18-19
— GENDER ᥫ᭡
Female
— Race + Enthicity ᥫ᭡
Asian, Korean - Australian
— OCCUPATION ᥫ᭡
Student at Arcadia high, part-time barista
— ZODIAC ᥫ᭡
Virgo
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
APPEARANCE
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
— FACECLAIM ᥫ᭡
https://pin.it/1qVcUvP0I
— EYE COLOR ᥫ᭡
Deep Blue
— HAIR COLOR ᥫ᭡
Chocolate brown
— HAIR TEXTURE ᥫ᭡
2C
— HAIR LENGTH ᥫ᭡
Falls down to around her hip
— HEIGHT ᥫ᭡
158cm
— WEIGHT ᥫ᭡
Undocumented
— SKIN ᥫ᭡
Light tan (as seen in faceclaim)
— BODY CLAIM ᥫ᭡
Hourglass, average thickness, small waist, d cup size
— BEAUTY MARKS ᥫ᭡
Freckled cheeks +nose, dimpled smile
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
PERSONALITY
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
— LIKES & DISLIKES ᥫ᭡
She likes to be left alone, the less conversations; the better. she likes to study in the school library- at times hanging out with Tobias and Jim; but that’s only when she’s needed or feels like it. She loves studying anything horror-related, whether that be dark arts or blood magic, which is why she likes hanging out with Jim and Tobias at troll market; she can find all sorts of things there.
Despite her interests, Minnie cannot stand the study of crystals- it’s too confusing and messy, she dislikes messes; whether accidental or not, she dislikes the idea of acting in a play; finding it uncomfortable and nerve wracking (more to come, can’t think right now)
— GENERAL ATTITUDE ᥫ᭡
She’s generally sarcastic and cold, finding that is the best way to keep people from getting close.
— HOBBIES ᥫ᭡
Painting, sketching, boxing and playing the guitar.
— FEARS ᥫ᭡
Deep-bodied water (to an extent), dogs (specifically bigger dogs)
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
APPAREL
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
— CASUAL WEAR ᥫ᭡
https://pin.it/JVMnNnDzy
https://pin.it/5nLKz6MkE
https://pin.it/3y2raYuw1
https://pin.it/4iAHOlo3s
https://pin.it/3rpdSJ83T
https://pin.it/2QY8NfgJB
https://pin.it/1ixCCrWt6
https://pin.it/6n3LlbkAx
https://pin.it/7zUmT89uh
— FORMAL WEAR ᥫ᭡
she does not attend formal events.
— SWIMWEAR ᥫ᭡
: while she does own swimwear, she does not swim.
https://pin.it/24YY8ePie
https://pin.it/ht5UFOx2G
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
RELATIONSHIPS
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
— FATHER ᥫ᭡
Robert King, Australian, Alive, currently living in Arcadia, 45
— MOTHER ᥫ᭡
Lin Choi, Korean, Deceased, buried at Sydney Cemetery, 43
— SISTER(s) ᥫ᭡
Katie Choi, Korean - Australian, currently alive and living in Australia, 20
— LOVE INTEREST(s) ᥫ᭡
(Depends on roleplay)
— ALLIES / FRIENDS ᥫ᭡
Jim, Tobias, Blinky, Arrrgh, Claire, Steve at-times
— ENEMIES ᥫ᭡
GumGums mostly
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
COMBAT
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
— WEAPONS ᥫ᭡
Although she’s good at hand-to-hand fighting, she enjoys using using sharp objects like knives as a weapon.
— PHYSICAL STRENGTH ᥫ᭡
She’s quite skilled at fighting, having been able to overpower steve in a fight once
— PHYSICAL WEAKNESS ᥫ᭡
She’s embarrassingly ticklish, mainly on her sides.
— ABILITIES ᥫ᭡
Thanks to extensive boxing lessons; she’s able to put someone in a chokehold, pin them to the ground and other fighting techniques.
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
BACKSTORY
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
— CHILDHOOD ᥫ᭡
Born to Robert and Lin, Minnie was born in a hospital in Seoul before moving to Sydney, Australia when she was 1. Sadly her mother passed when Minnie was only 9, which prompted her sister to remain in Sydney with their aunt whilst Minnie and her father moved to Arcadia when she was 10; a year after her mother’s death. Where she met Jim Lake and Tobias.
— TEEN HOOD ᥫ᭡
She is currently attending Arcadia high, on the weekends and public holidays- she works at a small but local cat café.
while she finds the job stressful, she’s currently earning 30$ per hour and it’s a 9-5
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Desperate employers struggle to find workers
“We have three months of backlog work on our more complex mechanical jobs where we cannot find employees with the in-depth knowledge required to complete these jobs,” he said.
Virtue said the skill shortage was exacerbated by TAFE and private colleges not preparing apprentices “for what the real life of a mechanic entails.”
Xanthe Ba-Pe trainee mechanic at CMR Automotive in Marrickville.attributed to him:Flavio Branclion
Master Electricians Australia’s director of advocacy and policy Jason O’Dwyer said the national electricity shortage is expected to worsen after the transition to renewables.
He said: “Some employers will not allow their students to receive orders from warehouses to prevent them from being stolen by competitors.”
O’Dwyer predicts a shortfall of 25,000 electricians by 2030, with electricians, solar electricians, air conditioning and refrigeration in the toughest positions to fill.
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“We’ve seen employers offer some amazing incentives, like eight days, nine days two weeks, gym memberships, haircuts, and nights with their partner, as well as referral and sign up bonuses, which range from $1,000 to $10,000,” he said.
Bars and restaurants also attract workers with cash and other incentives.
The Sydney Restaurant Group is offering $5,000 sign-in rewards and free wine courses for managers, waiters, bartenders, baristas, chefs and kitchen staff at venues including Ormeggio at The Spit, Aqua Dining at Milsons Point and Cafe Bondi.
Australian Venue Co. offers. Ltd., which operates venues such as The Winery, Bungalow 8 and Cargo, offers paid training, a $100 pub voucher, free lunch and a gift bag for successful “casting calls” applicants in Sydney, Melbourne and Perth.
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Solotel last year began offering login bonuses of up to $1,000 and half price for food and drinks at places like the Opera Bar, Golden Sheaf Hotel and The Bank Newtown to new employees.
Elliot Solomon, CEO of Solotel, said the incentive program “contributed significantly” to hiring employees.
The hospitality group also introduced a minimum wage increase for eligible employees to July instead of October 1 as requested by the government.
Rockpool Bar & Grill Executive Chef, Cory Costello said last year Sun Herald The restaurant was struggling to hire staff despite paying dishwashers $90 an hour on Friday and Saturday nights.
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Restaurant and Restaurant Australia CEO Belinda Clark said hospitality workers are paid “significantly above” regular bonus rates, with junior chefs attracting more than $100,000 a year.
“One of my kitchen hands in Western Australia was poached by mines for $150,000 a year as well,” she said. “For baristas, it’s now normal for them to earn about $60 an hour on the weekends.”
Clark said employers are offering more training to less experienced people “to make them able to work if they have not worked in the industry before.”
But UFL Executive Director Dario Mojkic said hospitality remains an industry where workers are underpaid and poorly treated despite some places offering check-in bonuses and other incentives.
“Hospitality employers cannot take jobs because the industry expects workers to work unrelated hours with no job security,” he said.
The chief executive of the Australian Retailers Association, Paul Zahraa, said retail employers are offering login bonuses, discounts on products or pay for courses as job vacancies hit a record high of more than 46,000 in August, an increase of 14 per cent from the previous three. months.
Fashion brand Nude Lucy is offering a $1,500 login bonus and $1,000 gift voucher as part of its offer to hire an area manager, while last year The Body Shop became one of the first major Australian retailers to adopt an open recruitment process and not ask for a resume. Subject or reference.
“Labour shortages have been a problem for some time, even without the Christmas demand surge, as many retailers and small businesses in particular cannot trade at full capacity,” Zahra said.
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Originally published at Melbourne News Vine
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SYDNEY GRAYSON, 24 YEARS OLD, NOTTINGHILL, BARISTA AT JAVA WHISKERS CAFE AND FREELANCE PHOTOGRAPHER - FC:ZENDAYA COLEMAN
“ Own your identity. Love who you are in the world. Love your deafness. ”
BIOGRAPHY:
TWs: Car accident, cancer mention, hearing loss
Sydney could not say that her childhood was particularly difficult. Sure, it could have been a bit easier, but for the most part, Sydney was relatively happy. She was born to two very loving parents and was the youngest of two children. While money was tight, they made things work well enough. They couldn’t exactly afford nice, designer clothes, nor new, expensive furniture. Most of Sydney’s clothes and belongings were hand-me-downs, which was never something that really bothered her. Her father typically worked two full-time jobs to try to make ends meet, so he was rarely home throughout the week. She only ever go to see him on the weekends, and he always made an effort to spend ample amount of time to spend with his children and wife when he should have rested up. And her mother mostly stayed home to watch over the kids when they were little up until Sydney’s brother was able to watch over her. Not much significance is to be noted for her earlier years. She excelled in school, made good grades, was decently popular amongst her peers, which made sense. She was kind to just about everyone she met and made friends easily.
Despite money being incredibly tight, Sydney had convinced her parents to get her a violin. She’d been interested in learning how to play after having gone to a friend’s birthday party and someone had played. While the other kids lost interest almost immediately, Sydney’s eyes remained glued on the violinist, utterly mesmerized by the way they played, how pretty the instrument sounded. It had taken a few years for them to save up the money to buy her one. Though they could only afford her the violin and her first few lessons. Anything more, Sydney would need to come up with herself. Luckily, she’d taken up a few odd end jobs here and there until she could get an actual one. Mostly dog-sitting for her neighbors and her aunt. She found a job around then as well. She picked it up pretty well, and one evening, she was on her way to perform at a recital, her violin teacher having suggested she take part of along with the other students in her music class. That was when it happened.
The accident. Sydney doesn’t remember much other than pain and her body being tossed around as her parents’ car was hit. Everyone was mostly fine. Sydney… Well, Sydney ended up with a concussion, a few scrapes and bruises, a broken bone or two, and ruptured eardrums in both of her ears. The first thing she noticed was just how different the world sounded to her. While she could still hear, everything was muffled, and she strained to discern individual sounds. A few broken bones was not the only thing she had suffered from the crash… Both of her ears had a varying degree of hearing loss, and she was outfitted with a shiny pair of hearing aids. The medical bills were high, and, as if to add fuel to the fire, her father had grown sick as well, developing a pretty bad cough, and he seemed catching pneumonia and bronchitis far too frequently than they liked. A visit to the hospital and a couple of weeks of waiting lead to the diagnosis of his lung cancer. The road to recovery was a difficult one, long, hard, and frustrating. Which also meant more hospital bills. Which meant that they could not afford for Sydney to take sign language lessons. She eventually learned, teaching herself, learning from an interpretor her school had so graciously provided her, despite not being able to offer her BSL lessons either.
By the time she was at the age of twenty, Sydney’s father had been in remission for four years, a wonderful victory that came to an end when his cancer came back, much worse than before. Sydney had moved out of her parent’s home and into her own place, and she had gotten herself a service dog to further her independence. A cute, well behaved German Shepard named Rusty.At some point, she had picked up photography as a hobby. Mostly because she was upset at the loss of being able to play violin, though eventually, it became a passion of hers pretty quickly.
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My Covid Story
Apologies for any spelling errors, I’m on a time crunch. I’m a few hours out from leaving for my first flight since July 2019 (and before that, March 2018). Heading out to Sydney, I’m a mix of anxiety and absolute excitement. In January of this year, our sublet was almost up in Eltham and Cam and I had plans to pack up the car and begin doing workaways around Australia to help rebuild communities devastated by the historic wild fires (doesn’t that feel FOREVER ago?). When our sublet became available for a full lease transfer, we changed our minds to stay in our space, so that was the first instance of travel being knocked out of the picture. Then we had Valentine’s weekend open to go visit some friends in Tasmania, so we booked tickets and upon waiting in the airport, our flights were cancelled due to inclement weather. DAMN. Mid-march came around and it was Cam’s birthday, so we wanted to get out for a weekend of camping in our big bell tent, find a gorgeous spot in the woods out east near Warburton. When we arrived, every camping spot for an hour’s dive any direction was either full or completely not open at all. We picked a spot off a random road and spent one night there, but some rangers came by and said we couldn’t stay there due to the possible danger of logging trucks not seeing us. So that was a bust.
Then as you’re aware, this time frame leads up to the very tumultuous third week of March when Melbourne officially went into its first lockdown due to COVID. I documented this time in journal entries which I will add at the end, but ultimately the lockdown went until June, and the state reopened too quickly/had a fiasco with quarantined cases getting out of a hotel, thus sparking the second wave. We had flights booked to California for June to see my family and then planned to travel around Mexico for a few months, but that dream was quickly squashed when flights out of Melbourne ceased to exist at all. Months later, I had a flight booked in July to go to Sydney where I was to have my eggs extracted for donation. The day before I was to fly out, second lockdown went into effect and the flight was cancelled (thus forcing me to have the procedure done in Melbourne and cause a huge, historic controversy between Melbourne IVF’s CEO and the medical director of IVF Australia about how to transfer frozen eggs over a closed border!).
I’m struggling to comprehend just how important and meaningful my ability to travel today is. To think back to the first time in history, watching borders around the world close, flights become grounded, and witnessing a global pandemic unfold whilst in a foreign country—I remember thinking at the beginning how unfathomable the scale of it was. When people talk about things not seeming real or like it’s a dream you can’t wake up from, that’s exactly how it felt. I questioned whether I needed to go back to the U.S. in fear I might not see my family for years or be with them if they got fatally ill. Would I be able to even go back if that happened let alone would I be able to re-enter AU (the answer was no). And thank god I didn’t go back considering the absolute cluster fuck of a mess Trump made of the pandemic. But also, thank god my family has been healthy and safe. The level of fear for their safety was at an all-time high as civil tensions grew when the riots around the country kicked off in conjunction with the pandemic. I wrote to all of them to have a plan to escape to Mexico and get their passports if Trump won the re-election. This was a genuine fear I’ve never experienced before.
The level of frustration, depression, anxiety, hopelessness, self-hatred for lack of productivity during lockdown, and uncertainty about so many facets of life weighed down on me during this time. But I know how much worse our time could have been. I was immensely grateful for the fact that we had a home and incredibly gracious landlords who were human and understood the financial difficulties of this unprecedented time when so many became homeless as job loss skyrocketed. We were so fortunate that I was able to continue working even 2 days a week through the lockdown as a barista and Cam was able to get government support for six months as a NZ citizen who lived in AU over 10 years when so many other New Zealanders were forced to return to their country because of the time limit stipulation for support. We only had two family members contract Covid and were young and healthy enough to survive when so many families will be without a member at the holidays this year.
And I acknowledge my privilege in that my identity is so closely entwined with the ability to travel, that while it felt suffocating to not even have the choice to travel anywhere outside of a 5km (3mile) zone, I fully empathize with those in parts of the world where they could not walk more than 50 meters from their front door or people who didn’t have windows/balconies in apartment buildings who were going out of their mind. All of that does not diminish the struggles I faced with not being able to travel, but it does always keep my perspective in check. My trip today signifies how a city and a country came together during the most difficult period of our lifetime, followed strict government guidelines, and came out after 120+ days in full lockdown on the other side of a pandemic, now able to cross state borders without isolation or quarantine. To go to a live music show, have drinks on rooftop bars, walk around outside without a mask on, and see people going about their daily lives again on public transport and see a city bustling with energy—the months of mental hardship and growth was all to get back to a post-Covid world. Even though a vaccine is not out yet and we need to be cautious, the level of hopelessness has diminished significantly, and I’m not terrified my trip might be cancelled in two hours. I’m actually going this time!
There is also a whole other facet to my time in lockdown and that of course is the personal development and mutual growth in my marriage! That’s a whole separate post though which I hope to get out soonish. But here’s a bit of something I started a few months ago. Enjoy.
********
I remember when it first started in the news; like a minor blip of a story flashing at the bottom of the screen: some mutant virus had infected a couple dozen people in some random city in China. I was working solo in a café serving the employees of a major shoe distribution company in the warehouse district of Collingwood, Melbourne. The TV was on in the cafe but muted the first few weeks of January as the main stories were about the most devastating wildfires in the history of the world, and we all just felt a communal helplessness. As the numbers grew in China and the story became a daily headline, the first case was announced in Queensland on January 25th. Everyone stuck around a few minutes longer each day after they were handed their coffee. I think back to the moment when Wuhan, the epicenter at the time, reported 1,500 cases and I thought surely there can’t be much more than that. This is just media sensationalizing something small. This whole story will blow over in another week or two.
If only.
It was summer in Australia, and my husband and I were planning what to do after our sublease was up in mid-March. I commuted daily from a suburb 50 minutes north called Eltham, a creative and eco-friendly heritage town. We lived in a triplex made of adobe mudbrick, surrounded by native forest, a communal garden, and enjoyed huge artisan windows that brought in natural filtered light through the towering trees. Our little studio was a quiet haven away from the chaos and constant flurry of people in Melbourne, especially during summer as it brought travelers from every corner of the globe. There was no way we could have possibly known that this little paradise would feel like a prison after six months in the world’s longest lockdown due to a global pandemic caused by that little virus in some random city in China now known worldwide as COVID-19.
As the weeks passed by in February, more and more countries began reporting cases. I did not understand how pandemics worked as the last one I was alive for and could remember was H1N1 in California, and I was about 17—far too consumed with college applications and boys to think about world affairs. The Spanish Flu was never something that was particularly emphasized in our history classes, so it didn’t even occur to me to compare what was happening now to that point in time. Then again, this was incomparable because in 1912, the world was a less globalized economy and there were no commercial flights transporting thousands of passengers across the globe daily. By the first week of March, my daily rush-hour commutes became the first real difference I noticed. The number of morning passengers on the train platforms dwindled from 50 to 25 to 5, and eventually, to just me. As the train stopped at over 30 stops from where I lived to the city, my carriage wasn’t even remotely full at 7 a.m.
There was less foot traffic in the city. Flinders Street Station, one of the two largest hubs that saw thousands of people daily, was eerily quiet and empty. We were two weeks out from leaving Melbourne to go travel, planning to go to New South Wales, AU to help rebuild communities that were ravaged by the bushfires. I was desperate to travel this year, and we were so close to leaving. I had picked up some other barista work in an advertising agency closer to the city. But day by day, office workers were being told to work from home if they were able to. Hand sanitizer became readily available in the café, bathrooms, and around the office. I remember staring out the window of this high rise building that overlooked the lush green stretch of Albert Park and thinking it looks so normal outside. Every day, I looked at the news in Australia, which I had never really done before. Industries were shutting down, and the panic was setting in for thousands of casual workers in the hospitality industry as it was only a matter of time before we would be shut down too.
Melbourne is a cultural hub filled with travelers who typically come here on a Work and Holiday Visa which gives them 1-2 years to work and live in AU. Most find work in hospitality as there are over 40,000 restaurants and cafes in this region. You couldn’t go a single day without meeting someone from another country which is why I fell in love with this city. I worked as a freelance barista through agencies that called for workers to be able to step in if someone called out sick or quit unexpectedly and they found themselves short. But my agencies had gone completely silent in the week leading up to the industry shutting down. There was no more work and travelers were finding themselves stranded. I journaled daily in the lead up to my final day of work in the city as I knew something big was happening, and I wanted to be able to recall when it all began. I also knew we would not be travelling anytime soon, around Australia or otherwise, when national and international borders began closing around the world.
March 17th, 2020
All that’s being talked about is COVID-19. Entire countries are closing borders and going into complete lockdown. Italy has been inundated with patients in hospitals and now have to choose who lives and who dies. AU isn’t taking nearly as intense of measures, but the general atmosphere is not normal. All events with over 500 people have been cancelled. Those who have traveled anywhere must self-quarantine for 14 days or face a huge fine. Some people still don’t take it seriously, thinking/acting like it’s just a normal flu when in reality its ability to be passed on and even re-infect someone a second time is much higher than the rate of a simple flu. In the states, my family says all the restaurants and schools have closed, even the Hollywood entertainment industry has closed down. So many independent contractors, myself included, are without means to live because there’s no emergency government funding in place. It shows what’s truly flawed with the system. Luckily Cam has full time work still, but for those people who have kids and no daycare options? No partner or family? Those who are traveling and can’t get back home? This is devastating for all of us, but them in particular. Supposedly, there are rumors that the virus dies with the warm weather, but AU is headed into winter. It could be why the virus isn’t as big in places like South America and Africa (*note* countries from these two continents are now in the top 10 most infected places as of September 2020) Europe is completely shut down as is New Zealand. I have flights to California in June, so I’m hoping I can still go. For how weak my immune system is, I’m surprised I’m not more concerned because I’ve been continuously reassured the virus only attacks those with underlying conditions, mainly in the elderly population. Even in calm, tight-knitted communities like ours in Eltham, we’re seeing the best and worst of humanity come out with people hoarding resources, but also there are those offering rides for people to stores or grocery drop offs to their homes. I’m very interested to see how the next three months progress all around the world. Right about now, it’d be nice to hide away in a beachside house in Mexico. (*Mexico is also among the top 10 most infected countries now*)
March18th, 2020
The government should announce today whether hospitality industry will close, potentially putting Cam and I both out of jobs. Luckily our landlord is being highly accommodating. Trump is giving Americans $1,200 and has postponed tax season by 3 months. Only seems he does something decent when it’s to keep the economy from tanking and his money is protected.
Cam and I both have throat annoyances and headaches. We should try to stay home, but can’t afford it. Today, they’ve dropped gatherings of 500 down to only 100 people, yet shopping centers and public transport remain open, which I would think are the riskiest places for transferring infections. It’s been stated this is a once in a decade event that will change the course of history.
March 19th, 2020
Amidst all the chaos from morning to night, people are finally taking time to nurture their interests and creativity. I’m taking two courses on sustainable fashion and fashion in design. I’ve also applied to be a mentor for women trying to gain work and leadership experience at an NGO called Fitted for Work. They have stylists that help women to prepare business outfits and tailor their resumes/do mock interviews. I’ve looked into an MA program I’m interested in at Warren Wilson College back in North Carolina. I think looking forward is the only way to keep the fear down about how long these shut downs may last possibly through June. The world economy is going to see some extremely confronting realities it hasn’t seen since the Great Depression. For the moment I’m looking into teaching English online which I’m already certified to do, just to try and earn some money. I’ll be interested to see all the art that comes out of this period and the photojournalism that captures this historic time.
March 21st, 2020
We went over to Williamstown (Cam’s parent’s house) as Cam had two shifts out that way. Restrictions in cafes are now 1 person per 4 square meters, so in the 100 person limit already imposed, it’s now down to 25. I’m nervous for Cam to keep working and going on public transport. It’s high risk and unethical in terms of coming in contact with people we could transmit it to without knowing (asymptomatic) because it takes 14 days to even show symptoms. We made the choice to start self-isolation come Monday as we can see in the next week or two the same spike will be here in Melbourne as we’ve seen in Italy and most likely soon to see in the U.S. Reading other peoples’ accounts about how they continued life as normal as though nothing had changed in Italy is exactly where AU is projected to head towards.
March 25, 2020
As of Monday, AU took drastic measures to ensure safety and closed many non-essential businesses with a series of daily updates for more and more businesses to shut or only stay open for takeaway. Overnight, nearly 80,000 people in hospitality work were laid off or lost work, Cam and I included. A stimulus package of 66 billion dollars was announced and Cam qualified for government payments through Centrelink because he’s a kiwi who’s been here over 10 years. Other kiwis who haven’t been here that long are completely without any kind of support from the AU government, even though in NZ, Aussies are supported. A very backward, selfish system who told them to go home.
We went to Centrelink on Monday at 7:45am in Greensborough (suburb over from Eltham). By 8:30 am when the doors opened there were over 200 people in line. The government has been terribly confusing with their messages out to the public, highly unprepared. People are confused about what they can and can’t do, what businesses are remaining open, who is eligible… it’s a mess. Why are liquor stores and hair salons considered essential?? There have been spikes in young people getting this virus as young as 18, and they are dying. The virus coats your lungs like a jelly ultimately blocking oxygen. We did what is hopefully our last grocery shop because being in the store is just as contagious as a café. There’s no safety or hygiene measures in place. We had gloves on and people were dancing around each other in the aisles to maintain 1.5m social distance.
The U.S. is becoming the new epicenter with horrific rapid spreading, particularly in New York. Flight around the world, including as of today AU, are being stopped and we can no longer leave the country at all.
To Be Continued…..
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50 questions
I was tagged by my brother @angel-deux-writes
What is the colour of your hairbrush? Black
Name a food you never eat: Like my brother, mushrooms and seafood. Are we the same person, simply separated by time and space and a year?! Maybe!!
Are you typically too warm or too cold? too hot, hot damn!
What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Lazing around in bed, fucking around on tumblr when I should’ve been getting out of bed.
What’s your favourite candy bar? Fry’s Turkish delight
Have you ever been to a professional sports game? several! Cricket, basketball. I went to the Sydney Olympics when I was 12 and saw a bunch of different things which was great.
What was the last thing you said out loud? "she used to climb trees in primary school!" (I was talking about a truly feral child I taught last year)
What is your favourite ice cream? choc chip cookie dough 🤤
What was the last thing you had to drink? iced coffee
Do you like your wallet? yeah it's cute, though these days I do most things with my phone
What was the last thing you ate? museli and mango yoghurt for breakfast
Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? yes, a new knitted sweater and two skirts!
What’s the last sporting event you watched? Does The Last Dance count? Because I have been watching that.
What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? this is the type of question that is so very American, but... plain? Or caramel.
Who is the last person you sent a text message to? my boss
Ever go camping? I used to go a lot as a kid and really enjoyed it.
Do you take vitamins? nah. I eat heaps of fresh shit
Do you go to church every Sunday? nope. At best I was a CEO Christian: Christmas and Easter Only, but only when I was near my grandparents at those times of the year
Do you have a tan? yes, though not as dark as it could be.
Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? pizzaaa
Do you drink your soda through a straw? I mostly drink soft drink from a bottle, so no.
What colour socks do you usually wear? I really only wear these black grip socks for Pilates. I have little sockettes on right now, one grey and one 'skin coloured'.
Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Is the sky blue?
What terrifies you? Needles. i hate them.
Look to your left. What do you see? My ironing board??
What chore do you hate most? washing dishes. A few years ago I used my tax return to buy a dishwasher. No regrets.
What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? *who me?-gif*
What’s your favourite soda? coke zero and I miss it 😭
Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? look, either. Both. I live very close to a little restaurant district and there is a cluster of good drive thru places near work. So.
What’s your favourite number? 8
Who’s the last person you talked to? coworkers
Favourite cut of beef? porterhouse
Last song you listened to? Deepest of sighs, the frankest of shadows - Gang I'd Youths
Last book you read? Idk, but I'm currently, slowly, reading the Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern.
Favourite day of the week? Saturday
Can you say the alphabet backwards? slowly, and with some thought
How do you like your coffee? Skim flat white if I’m getting it barista made, milk with no sugar if I’m making it at home (with my stove-top percolator)
Favourite pair of shoes? look. my podiatrist designed sneakers. I am not ashamed of that.
Time you normally get up? 5ish
Sunrises or sunsets? I see so many sunrises
How many blankets are on your bed? 2 at the moment, but a third will be added soon!
Describe your kitchen plates. plain cheap white ones. I am looking forward to upgrading
Describe your kitchen at the moment. messy, but only five minutes effort away from being clean
Do you have a favourite alcoholic drink? Gin and tonic with a wedge of lime
Do you play cards? yes, and I'm pretty good. Though not poker.
What colour is your car? White!
Do you know how to change a tire? my dad taught me when I was 16. And I have never had to do it since.
Your favourite state? the one I live in, Queensland.
Favourite job you’ve had? working at a comic shop while I was at university.
How did you get your biggest scar? Knee surgery
Tagging @samirant and, Idk, @firesign23.
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I’m back! Congratulations on 100th fics! They are all amazing and I have read them all multiple times 🥰 For the Get to know me, could you answer 🏢, 📝 and 🎁? And also thank you for following me, I only noticed now 😅 Maybe I should start posting on my blog and not be an anon anymore 🐸 - Minho anon
I got told about your blog by @feedmeramyun (she’s the more observant between us - she has eidetic memory!) but yes, post! Thanks for your comments on the fics, and the 100. I still don’t know what I should do to celebrate. Maybe I’ll get a Kofi account and yall can buy me a drink. I fucking need one.
🏢Your job (You don’t have to be specific) or dream job if you don’t work?
I’m currently studying for my PhD. I’m funded so that’s my job. Afterwards I’m quite open to what I can do (my degree is broadly in media studies - film, tv and video games), so I’m going to try the local video game studios, maybe some museums/galleries, but I could honestly do a lot of things (maybe stay in academia and teach but thats unlikely in the current climate). I also have written for gaming magazines here in the UK (PCGamer) so I could do that I guess.
Previously I worked about 10 years in hospitality, so I’m a trained bartender, waitress, and an expert level (I trained so I could train others) barista (ofc I am, I’m a Minseok biaser!), but I’ve also worked in a record store, a cinema (3+ years), a picture framer... list goes on.
📝 Fave quote?
I would probably go with Hunter S Thompson on religion: “Pray to god, but row away from the rocks”. I think it’s great cause it expresses my feelings exactly about religious people - sure, believe in god, that’s cool, but also, don’t be an idiot and expect god to change shit just for you. (I’m not religious myself). It’s the only quote I have on a sign in my house.
🎁 Best gift you ever received and why?I wondered what to put for this, I’ve had a lot of good gifts, but the best/most impactful I ever had was my 22 birthday gift. My dad worked at an airline in New Zealand at the time (where I lived), and he told me we were flying somewhere in NZ for my birthday, but he surprised me on the day by taking me FIRST CLASS to Australia (Sydney), where my Mum met us and we spent a weekend together in Sydney, all three of us. My parents split up when I was 7 so this was like, the best gift ever cause I got to spend time with both of them, and also, FIRST CLASS BITCHES. Dad said I adjusted ‘way too quickly’ to first class. 😉😂
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Independent Minds: Girish Jhunjhnuwala, Ovolo Hotels
A self-proclaimed Negroni enthusiast and neon sign aficionado, Founder & CEO of Ovolo Hotels, Girish Jhunjhnuwala has been shaking up the boutique hotel scene with his disruptive creativity in Hong Kong and Australia since 2002. While his inspiration comes from the rock legends of the 1980s, Girish is very much a man ahead of his time.
Hong Kong born and raised, Girish inherited his strong sense of entrepreneurship from his father while working in his family’s watchmaking business, before taking a chance on a serviced apartment building where the Ovolo brand began. Colourful, cosmopolitan, and contemporary, each Ovolo property has an up-to-the-moment urban edge with a touch of rock and roll. The attention to detail can be felt throughout the wonderful world of Ovolo, immediately recognisable for its distinctly daring approach to design – from the statement lighting at Ovolo Central Hong Kong, the loud wallpaper at Ovolo The Valley Brisbane, to the exposed industrial beams at Ovolo Woolloomooloo, a former wool warehouse in a trendy Sydney district.
Not only breaking the mould when it comes to design, Girish has instilled a fresh and flexible ethos into his hotels by creating a sense of “effortless living” for his guests with the modern traveller in mind – think 24-hour pools, barista-crafted coffee, requestable gaming consoles, and a cocktail menu with a different drink for each day of the week. A firm believer in being “anti-chain and anti-same”, Girish has personally crafted every element of the Ovolo brand to stand out from the creative crowd and stay that way for years to come.
What does being ‘Independently Minded’ as an hotel owner mean to you?
I have created Ovolo Hotels with an underlying ethos of connecting with guests emotionally and being personable, which to me is the meaning of hospitality. With a unique design, unique interiors and passion that can’t be found anywhere else, this is how an independent hotel stands out. Some may think that from a guest perspective, there’s not much of a difference between stepping into a chain hotel and stepping into an independent hotel. I think it makes all the difference. A hotel that’s independently operated tends to have more passion and heart behind it, often telling a story that you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else. A chain hotel on the other hand is exactly the opposite – the whole point is that you will find exactly what you expect, down to the furniture, replicated in another location.
The brand and the experience mean a lot to me, and 10 years later I still choose the wallpaper, the music, the art, and all the above – it’s the part of my job that I love the most – development. I get involved in crafting it from day one. This is a huge reason how and why Ovolo strays away from the cookie cutter approach. Each hotel is different, allowing us to be more nimble, agile and able to change with the times. Thinking from the customer’s perspective has been the cornerstone of Ovolo’s management and is reflected in everything we do, including the way our hotels are designed. That’s why operational freedom is so important to us.
I started Ovolo not only because I had a passion for hospitality, but because there were wrongs that I felt needed to be corrected within the industry. I believed the hotel industry needed disruption. The model hadn’t changed in a long time, and its traditional way of things made life difficult. There was no personality – you couldn’t tell one from the other. I also had a vision – of effortless living and inclusivity. I simply created my ideas based on things that made me angry. Finding things that you disliked, things that provoked you to create something better. Ovolo’s ethos is effortless living – and is inspired by everything that my hotel stays were not: effortless.
What was the inspiration behind the hotels, and where do you continue to find sources of inspiration?
Having grown up in an entrepreneurial family, a lot of dinnertime discussions and chats with my father were about his business, and I was able to learn a lot from him this way. Now having started my own business, I also very much made it a family affair – in my first hotel, my three children would work weekends, make beds, and get hands-on. I’d like to think that they would be able to take as much away from this, as I did from my father.
The way that I came to purchase my first property was definitely a happy coincidence. Hospitality was always a dream of mine, but funnily enough I stumbled upon it by accident. My wife was looking for a location for her restaurant in 2 Arbuthnot Road, the location of my first property. I distinctly remember the agent telling us, “It’s for sale!” to which I said, “Of course it’s for sale!” and he replied, “No! the whole building’s for sale!”. I followed my gut, bought the building, and here we are!
Of course, a lot came from passion. Passion was and is a key part of my entrepreneurial journey. In the initial stages however, I was just looking to survive. Passion came from survival and my ability to survive and persevere led me to be more and more passionate about what I did. People call me a disruptor – but that’s not how I saw myself. I simply created my ideas based on things that frustrated me. Finding things that you disliked, things that provoked you to create something better. So the experience and space that I have created all boils down to one thing: connecting emotionally with our guests. That is something that I will never, and have never, compromised on.
How do you think your hotels stand apart from other boutique hotels?
Bringing back the notion of human connection and emotional experience, I think what sets us apart is our emphasis on making sure everything we do revolves around that. Boutique hotels are naturally more personable and intimate than a chain hotel, however I like to think that we take it one step further.
One of my favourite initiatives that we do (pre-Covid, of course) was the social hour. Guests come down to the lounge, enjoy a couple of drinks and most importantly, socialise with other guests staying in the hotel, or the staff itself. GMs attend the social hour everyday and get to know our guests, whether that be offering up a simple restaurant recommendation or delving deep into personal stories and experiences.
Guests are also able to directly send me an email, telling me about any comments they had during their stay. A CEO feedback email is displayed throughout the hotels, because I always want to hear about my guests’ experiences no matter how big or small the feedback.
If you only had 24 hours to get a taste for the Ovolo experience, what would you recommend a guest must do?
All of our rooms are very nice, but of course I would choose to stay in any of the suites. Named and styled after rock and roll icons, the suites at any of our hotels scream Ovolo.
In terms of what to choose for breakfast, lunch and dinner, I would say any of the F&B offerings that we have within our properties. We just recently went vegetarian in all of our restaurants, so what better way to start and end your day than with a nice, hearty, vegetarian meal? Negroni will always be the cocktail of choice. My personal favourite, Ovolo is all about the Negroni.
In terms of outdoor experiences, my favourite is definitely hiking. With a hike you can best get a glimpse of the city from afar, and you’re getting your steps in as well!
How would you describe your own perfect luxury experience?
For me, a perfect luxury experience would be a safari. I would love to take a couple days and explore the wildlife in Kenya, South Africa, and the likes because this way you truly feel away from home. Returning to a luxurious tent or resort room after a long day in the wild is the perfect experience for me.
On the other hand, there is a lot that disappoints and frustrates me about hotel experiences – which is why I started Ovolo. I couldn’t believe that such luxurious hotels were nickel and diming their guests, and that with every touch-point, there was payment involved. At my hotels, once you step inside all the touch-points are seamlessly included – no paying for a bottle of water in the mini-fridge or a cocktail at happy hour.
Do you have a vision for the future of your hotels?
I think it’s more important now than ever to move ahead with any visions that we have. The hospitality industry is undergoing a massive shift, and it only makes sense to change with it rather than be left behind. Now that the industry is headed towards an uncertain direction, it’s important to be part of shaping the industry rather than just riding along and taking the back seat.
In times of uncertainty, guests are also increasingly scrutinising companies to provide a sense of reassurance. This is when companies need to be proactive, giving them what they need before they even knew they needed it.
Which is why we have very recently launched our new initiative, Year of the Veg. For 365 days, all Ovolo restaurants are going vegetarian! We want to be conscious about what we’re consuming and practice sustainability as much as we can because we believe this can have an enormous impact on the environment and humanity at large. To that end, we’re evolving our food offerings so that our guests can continue enjoying great dining experiences in a more sustainable manner. After going vegetarian across all their restaurants, we will continue to incorporate sustainable and ethical practices throughout our properties as much as possible.
Do you see any new trends emerging for 2021 in luxury hotels?
Design-wise, I believe there will be a trend shifting towards de-cluttering to minimise touch-points. Urban hotels will become more modern with more indoor-outdoor spaces and open windows, as people are starting to value space and openness more than before.
Technologically speaking, I do believe that many restaurants may look into scanning QR codes for the menu and ordering to reduce physical touch-points, but this is not something Ovolo is interested in. As mentioned previously, we value connecting with customers. For me, you go to a restaurant so a waiter can explain the food to you, and for the service. If not, why not just order take-out?
We don’t believe in technology for the sake of technology. Ideas have been floating around regarding a key card that can be integrated into your mobile phone, but checking in at the front desk and being welcomed the way you should be is what makes your stay all that different. Luxury hospitality always needs human to human contact, but technology will find other ways to reinvent our spaces.
Wellness will be given a huge boost as well because of health consciousness. This trend has been on the rise for a while now but has recently become more pervasive with the pandemic, so it will be interesting to see how hotels will incorporate this into their spaces – such as how hotel gyms keep their cleanliness, keeping yoga mats in rooms, walking pads, spas, and such.
I do anticipate that the general trend of travelling will gear towards staycations and domestic travel for the rest of the year, but the travel industry has the ability to bounce back very quickly because of pent up demand. Travelling is a huge part of many people’s lives whether it be for leisure or business, and that is not something that can be replaced. Therefore, although staycations will become more popular amongst those that are wary, international travel will have its momentum back soon enough.
The post Independent Minds: Girish Jhunjhnuwala, Ovolo Hotels appeared first on Small Luxury Hotels.
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About This Blog
Hi, I’m a freelance producer who currently works in the hospitality sector. I am intending to gather information on the uncomfortable elements of the hospitality sector, the side that everyone knows but doesn’t talk about. The bits “that come with the job” but shouldn’t. I want to talk about underpayment, overworked employees, job insecurity, discrimination and harassment and poor work conditions. I want to get your stories, gather your experiences and create dialogue through any means available in order to raise awareness on the issue.
This blog was borne out of the frustrations of listening to the unions and public debate around weekend penalty rates. In mid-2017 debate emerged around the cut to penalty rates on the weekend and after hours. Young people, unionists and supporters of Australia’s civil society rallied to protect the wages of some of the most vulnerable workers in the country.
I fully support those who oppose the cuts to weekend rates however I felt a crucial part of the discussion was not addressed - the non-regulation of these rules and the widespread acceptance of an exploitation of hospitality workers. I’ve worked for what feels like forever in the hospitality sector, I’ve worked as a waiter, deli worker, kitchen hand, delivery driver, bartender and barista. I’ve worked in catering, fast food, grimey cafes and high class restaurants. In almost every one of these jobs I have been underpaid, almost always receiving below the award wage, often below minimum. Barring two exceptions I have never received weekend rates and one of those was still below the amount required under the changes that occurred two years later.
I know that in many of my workplaces I could have asked for more, at times I did. Sometimes I was successful, often I was told that “this is our rate”. I knew that this was standard, that I’d find another job if I went looking but it would be much the same. Quite often I, and others, knew that there were foreign workers, students or travellers being paid far less because their visas limited their work rights or because there was an understanding that back home the money would be worth much more.
I know other whom I have worked with have been in situations where they are paid far below the minimum wage or that they have been paid per day rather than per hour and forced to work longer than they agreed to. I know that hospitality staff are regularly harassed sexually and emotionally and it’s considered a part of the job, and often the culprits are coworkers. I know that there is racism in the picking process of staff, in particular when it comes to the front of house.
What this means is that this is not an issue that has to be engaged with on a simple employee-employer basis but rather needs to be addressed systematically. There needs to be a nationwide discussion on the reality of hospitality work. We need to discuss uncomfortable topics like pay, bullying, racism, sexism. We’re all proud of the long hours we have pushed through but we need to recognise that we should be entitled to fair breaks, penalty rates and earn enough to maintain a good work life balance.
If your workplace cannot afford to pay their workers fairly they should reconsider why they have the right to be open.
I’ve worked in areas that have some of the highest rental rates in Sydney. In these areas, it is not uncommon to find the average coffee prices to be higher, because other cafes are subject to the same rental market they would be cutting their margins short by not following suit. The customers accept this, and while some grumble, the areas are some of the busiest spots for cafes and restaurants in the city.
So please take the time to fill out our survey (which will be up soon), contact me if you wish to be interviewed, or email me the specifics of your hospitality story.
#sydneybarista#melbournebarista#foodie#aussiechef#foodporn#sydneybartender#melbournebartender#Speakouthospitality#workrights#protectourweekends#student visa#workingholiday#newtown#bondi#northsydney#therocks#oxfordstreet
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I’m back!
My last post was a picture of the dawn of 2016.
To recap:
2014 saw me struggling with money and post Europe blues, debt, glandular fever and depression.
2015 saw me move out of home, to Wollongong, fall desperately in love, make tonnes of friends, and experienced heightened anxiety and frequent panic attacks.
2016 saw me break it off with the object of my adorations, write poetry, and grow. I finished university and moved again, to Sydney, began working in a bar and cafe.
2017 is a quarter way through already! I’ve been in Sydney eight months now.
I’m currently juggling three roles - a barista & waitress at a 6AM start two days a week. A bartender with a 4AM finish on Fridays and Saturdays. And a regular old 9-5 office job 2 days a week.
That and a partner who lives an hour away and doesn’t work weekends.
Yes, that’s right, to everyone’s surprise I am “going steady” with a very special man. I met him in July last year in a small bar. He was playing a gig and I was dancing in the front row.
We had a tumultuous time in 2016. Adjusting to Sydney was not smooth sailing. I was homesick for my life in Wollongong, and broke and suffered another depressive episode.
I can say now that I am past it. I’m back with said person, I’m busy and motivated. I am now working on my emotional intelligence and my anxiety.
My most recent task has been using eye contact with people in the workplace, and bringing myself to ask for help.
I also want to ensure I am not disrespectful to those around me (this can happen accidentally, tactlessness is a Sagittarian trait) and on good terms with everyone. However, I am also coming to terms with the idea that not everyone is going to like me. I’ve been working on this for about 6 years now! It’s an ongoing affirmation, if you can call it that.
And why am I writing this?
I think it would be good to keep an honest journal of my life, from time to time.
What am I focused on this week?
Writing more (tick), combining my supers, applying for a passport, avoiding caffeine and sugar, drinking 1.5 litres of water a day, and going grocery shopping (this is harder than it seems. I have a penchant for eating out).
My blackheads need to go.
I might want to change my hair.
Anyway, as Dad always said: “Look outward”.
I’m also finally getting around to contacting people about content writing opportunities. And I’m keeping my ear to ground for any copy-editing opportunities.
This has been a long diary entry.
A bientot. xx
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Drinking and Not Eating in Adelaide: The Crisis of the Outshone City
I’m a hospitality guy. I am in love with my job and my industry. Being able to have fun while I work and share my passion for great booze with strangers is what I live for. Working at Biggies at Bertram has been the great experience of my life so far. I’ve met new and interesting people, some who I now call some of my dearest friends, all from working behind the bar. And after spending this past year travelling the country, enjoying amazing food and booze, partying with fresh faces, I can’t help but notice this gaping hole in Adelaide’s dining/nightlife culture.
First off the bat: this is not a skewering of Adelaide; I adore this town. Is there fantastic places to go eat and drink? Absolutely, some of the finest bars and restaurants in the country are on our doorstep (and of course it doesn’t hurt that if you call yourself an “Adelaidian”, you’re about 20 minutes from some of the best wine and produce in the world). Hains & Co., Pink Moon Saloon, The Wheatsheaf and NOLA are some of the great watering holes in Australia. Without a doubt eating at Africola on my father’s birthday was the best dining experience i’ve had in recent memory. There are plenty of great little pubs around town to sit back and sink pint after pint of Coopers Pale. Billy Bob’s BBQ jam at The Grace Emily is the best thing you can do on a Monday night, one of the best things you can do all week even. Wednesday night beers at the beloved Crown & Anchor (long live the Cranka) is a time honoured tradition. I’ve had too many (a.k.a not enough) knock-offs turned club nights at The Exeter Hotel. And my own haunt Biggies is the best place in town you can have a pretentious free boogie whilst enjoying some of South Australia’s best beer and wine. There is certainly no lack in the quality of our bar and restaurant scene. Quantity is another thing entirely.
It’s amazing in Melbourne and Sydney how easy it is to find a phenomenal place to drink or eat without even trying. You can walk down a street in St. Kilda on a Monday night and drink have cocktails until 1am, on a public holiday even! After a recent trip to Melbourne with some friends, walking down Chapel St. on the New Years Day public holiday, we were able to enjoy some amazing craft beer at The Local Taphouse, and then stumbled on Holy Grail, a fantastic little cocktail haunt, and were able to drink until it struck 1am and had to close up shop (shout outs to the bartender who let us close up with him and hang around to 3:30am though). In Adelaide, the streets would be completely empty, and for us hospo folk, the venues that stay open (pokies rooms and casino’s excluded) are look upon like Gods. Even food! Whilst at Holy Grail, we asked where we could get some food at that hour, and the barman just pointed out the door to a great pizza spot. The same thing happened 2 nights later at The Rook’s Return, great pizza just across the road (okay, we like pizza when we’re drinking, sue us). In Adelaide, it’s a scavenger hunt to find great pizza. You know your nearest pizza spot sucks. We’ve got very few and far between great local watering holes if you live outside the CBD, only pubs and pokies rooms with all your favourite lagers on tap. Again, nothing wrong with a pub and a pokies room, i’ll sit and drink beers in a pokies room bar till the day I die, but you can’t deny Melbourne has got us beat in the outer suburbs. Not a TKO, a full first round knock-out loss. As far as our restaurants go, Sydney wipes the floor with us just the same. To every really great restaurant in Adelaide, there is probably 10 of the same caliber in Sydney. From the upper echelon of places like Quay and Sepia, to the fringe, casual but experimental joints like ACME and 10 William St, there is just an enormous bag of brilliant places to go eat. You look at the most recent Top 100 Australian Restaurants list, it is littered with Victorian and New South Wales restaurants, South Australia’s first placing is at 47 (Africola) with only 5 in total (Orana 48, Peel St. 95, Hentley Farm 96, and Fino 98 rounding us off). And it’s not like Adelaide’s population is too small, it’s about 1.2 million at the moment, and I can’t stress this enough, our produce is incredible! It’s all in our basket, but more often than not, we don’t take the opportunity.
What I really think it stems down to, is that for the most part, the general population are extremely unwilling to go out and spend their money on a great meal, they’d rather stash their pennies and travel. And again, there is nothing wrong with that at all, it’s a fantastic thing to do with your hard earned cash, I do the same thing myself. But when we go and travel, we go out and we eat fantastic food, we drink amazing beer, wine and spirits, and we come home and tell everybody how amazing the food is in such and such is, we document it all on Instagram, and we miss out on the brilliant things going on just around the corner. In contrast, in Melbourne I like to ask the local single 20-somethings how often they go out for a drink or some food. The general response is about 3-4 times a week. For us Adelaide folk, it’s generally once, twice on a good week, only on weekends. There is very little of a midweek night out if you work the traditional 9-5 hours, the city generally teems with hospo folk. Maybe the binge drinking culture is a bit more prevalent in Adelaide. There has always been the culture of rocking up to a venue and asking “what’s the cheapest drink?” so you can smash back as many as you can. There’s a time and a place for that, and for us Adelaide heads, that means Saturday, when we don’t have to go to work the next day. Having a few glasses of wine with an amazing meal is an underrated experience in this town. Adelaidians are very unwilling to part with their cash if they’re not drunk by the end of it.
What I think contributes to this is the lack of understanding of why it costs to go out, and an under appreciation of hospitality workers. When you ask why it costs $20 for your breakfast and a coffee, you’re forgetting about the cook who made it, and the barista who enables your caffeine addiction. The food and drink in front of you is the cheapest part of the transaction, everything else costs far more than some smashed avocado and eggs on toast, you’re paying for someone to make it for you, and better. What i’ve noticed more in Melbourne and Sydney, is a higher amount of respect and admiration for a hospitality professional. There is an understanding that they are good at what they do and make a mighty fine cocktail. They know they put up with a lot of slack. They know without them, they would have a far less vibrant and fun city. They know they are the people that make their lives better. Of course there are people in Adelaide that understand this plight, but the next time you complain it being $9 for a pint of beer, you can go to the bottle shop down the road, buy a carton cheaper, go home, hang out with the same group of friends you’ve known since high school, get pissed, make yourself steak and veg for dinner and complain about being bored, then you might understand what you’re paying for.
I’m now at the age where a large portion of my friends are now moving to Melbourne, and i’d be lying if i haven’t had the same fantasy. Every time I visit I say I will move. But then I get back home and I see the potential of this city, and all I want to do is be a part of the collective of people who could make this city into a new tourist destination. But every year, I see more and more cool and interesting people with fresh ideas and a brilliant work ethic move to Melbourne. There’s far more opportunities available and there is more money for them, it’s a no brainer. This town has this old white liberal air about it. The State government will quickly spend tax payer money on infrastructure preparing for population development, rather than create ways to increase tourism and coerce people to make the move to South Australia. And look, i get that, infrastructure is an important aspect of how cities progress and makes day to day living more comfortable and easy (side note: Melbourne is again far superior in this aspect. But we’ve got Sydney covered no worries). But comfortable and easy is not on the radar of an under 30 year old, career opportunities and things to do are their priorities, and that demographic, the young people with bright minds are how Adelaide as a city is going to move forward, rather than making the people who are moving towards retirement more comfortable. It’s why people make fun of this city, using phrases like “Great place to raise your kids” and follow it up with “I went to Adelaide once. It was closed”. But then I look at Duncan Welgemoed. He’s a chef from South Africa who has worked at The Fat Duck under Heston Blumenthal and at Restaurant Gordon Ramsay. But he’s made Adelaide his home, winning Chef of the Year at Bistro Dom in 2013, and opening the oft mentioned in this piece Africola. He’s been one of these people who has made this town more vibrant and exciting, but he also moved here with his wife to start a family. But he opened an amazing restaurant, using the phenomenal produce that is around us, and has been reaping the rewards ever since. Unfortunately the youth of this town aren’t doing the same kind of thing.
In saying all this, I have to concede that we are getting better. I remember the days when Peel Street was a dank alleyway of our infamous nightclub strip Hindley Street. Now it is occupied by brilliant bars like Clever Little Tailor and Maybe Mae, and fantastic restaurants like Gondola Gondola and Peel St. It’s teeming with the kind of people that need to stick around. And I can’t stress this point enough: Mad March in Adelaide, with the Fringe and the Adelaide Festival going on, during that time of year, Adelaide is the greatest city in this country hands down. But around the country, there are cities that can keep that kind of vibrance pumping all year round. Being a part of Biggies of Bertram, I feel like one of those people who have added something to the city, and I think there are better days for Adelaide yet. There is a wealth of under utilised opportunities. But i’m holding on to the hope that this will happen before all my friends and people I admire ex-communicate to Melbourne.
So for those of you playing at home in Adelaide: go out and eat, it’s only money. Drink less and drink better. Respect your hospitality workers, it’s not advisable to piss off the people making your coffee/food/drink. Make this city as fun as it could be. Give back and send forth positivity.
But at least we can get a beer at 2am. Sorry Sydney.
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Do Australian Baristas Really Have It Better?
Way back in 2013, Sprudge launched an investigation into barista wages in a worldwide poll that resulted in a then-enlightening find: Australia has the highest-paid baristas in the world. A second poll was later conducted, focusing solely on the land down under and providing deeper insight into the pay of its coffee workers across the country. It was concluded that on average, Aussie baristas were, in fact, being paid about $7/hour more (in USD) than their US colleagues, tips included. But with all of the charts, figures, and past discourse surrounding this topic, I still can’t help but wonder if the barista’s dreamland of free government healthcare, high wages, and personal time off that many outsiders have come to know as the Australian coffee industry is really all it’s cracked up to be.
Australia has a lot to boast about with respect to coffee—hardly new news to the coffee community. Its cafes are beautifully fitted-out with restaurant-like service and food menus to match. Competition-level baristas serve award-winning coffees priced as high as $150 AUD a cup, and overall, the cafe culture itself is globally influential, with regular mentions in popular news outlets.
When you consider all of this and the country’s running report card of coffee professionals who either win or place on the world competition stage, it’s hard to think this isn’t the place to be for a passionate barista. But one still has to ask—do higher wages and the supposed glamor of the Australian barista actually equate to a better quality of life?
“It depends,” says Sharon Akharoh, a Melbourne-based barista originally from Toronto, Canada. The average wage for a barista in Toronto is around $11/hour (the conversion between the Canadian and Australian dollar are nearly equal as of this writing), with head baristas and managers getting paid upwards of $15/hour. According to Akharoh, the long hours, busy shifts, and dealing with customers is much the same, but there are some striking differences.
“[In Toronto] I couldn’t live comfortably as a barista, so I picked up a second job bartending in the evenings,” she tells us. “And collecting tips helped to pay rent and establish a savings. I don’t need to do all of that here.”
Even though Australia’s cost of living is considerably higher, the income per week from one barista job does cover basic expenses more easily.
At press time, the average barista wage in Australia sits between $18-$25/hour. Though, the wage you receive is highly dependent on whether you’re a full-time, permanent part-time, or casual employee, your number of years of experience, and finally, how well you can negotiate your wage and benefits (including superannuation, the retirement fund paid into by employers). This leaves a lot of space for baristas to be overworked and exploited. Much to our surprise, this is the actual reality of a majority of the Australian coffee workforce.
“It’s truly the ‘Wild Wild West of Coffee’ down here,” Jessica Lambie, a Melbourne barista at St. Ali with 10 years in the industry, speaks honestly. “Most baristas are working casual and have no real job security, even though they’re being paid more per hour.”
In lieu of job security and benefits, casual baristas receive the highest rates, typically between $25-$30/hour. The Fair Work Ombudsman (FWO) states that a casual employee “does not have a firm commitment in advance from an employer about how long they will be employed for, or the days (or hours) they will work. A casual employee also does not commit to all work an employer might offer.”
Like many baristas around the world, the schedule of a casual employee could change week to week, but they’re not guaranteed a set (or any) amount of hours. Furthermore, a casual employee isn’t entitled to sick/annual leave or superannuation can end their employment and also have their employment ended at any time unless there’s a contractual agreement. But for nearly all casual baristas, contract agreements are extremely rare.
In Lambie’s long tenure working in New South Wales and Victoria, she’s only signed one or two contracts. Akharoh was originally on a permanent part-time contract at her previous employer but became casual when the contract was voided after the cafe sold to new owners. Georgia O’Connor, Minor Figures Sales & Marketing Manager for the Asia-Pacific region, recalls a similar experience during her time as a barista. O’Connor’s worked in the coffee industry for a decade as well between Sydney, Melbourne, and multiple short stints in London. The only contract she ever signed was at Proud Mary Coffee as a permanent part-time employee.
According to the FWO, permanent part-time (PPT) employees work less than 38 hours a week on average, are entitled to earn annual and sick leave on a pro-rata basis, and are on ongoing employment or fixed-term contracts. In coffee, PPT baristas also earn the least, at $18-$20/hour. Yet in what seems to be an attempt to keep wage costs low but keep the bar staffed, many cafe businesses give their PPT baristas full-time hours (40-50/hours a week) on a PPT rate.
As for the books, they’ll show PPT baristas working close to 38 hours and anything extra is paid out in cash. These situations are very common, according to Lambie, who’s had cafes offer to pay out half on the books, half in cash from the jump. “In my experience, it’s been suggested I also ‘get on the dole’ [apply for welfare], and that’s happened on more than one occasion.”
For O’Connor, this was the motivating reason behind deciding herself to move to casual. “I was already working full-time hours without the pay, and I wasn’t using any of my PPT benefits. It made more sense to not have benefits but better pay.”
So do full-time baristas who work on the books actually exist? They do, but it’s seemingly only offered to the head barista position. Head baristas are often on salary, receive a set amount of sick and annual leave, and guaranteed hours each week. And that’s only if the head barista negotiates those conditions. (I’ve been told it’s more often the case that a cafe’s head barista is casual and will have almost no contracted workers on bar.)
Another major stress, especially for casual employees, is not being able to take off necessary time for health-related or personal reasons due to fears of being let go on the spot. Since the market in Australia is so saturated—notably in Melbourne—cafes can easily find a barista to fill a shift. As a result, turnover rates are high. (At least they have the benefit of nationalized Medicare, which covers basic healthcare needs affordably.)
The exploitation of cafe workers and their wages doesn’t stop there. The FWO requires hospitality businesses to pay their staff a “penalty rate,” or an increased wage, on the weekends and public holidays. To offset the penalty rate and keep from eating into a business’ bottom line, it’s normal for that cost to be passed onto customers through a 10-20% surcharge during those days. It’s also normal, albeit quietly and illegally, for businesses to not pay penalty rates and still have a weekend/public holiday surcharge. But accountability is so low, not much is done about it.
The lack of accountability and normalization of these work environments are why things have rarely changed, not just in coffee but across the hospitality industry. Australia’s wealthiest restaurant empire, the Rockpool Dining Group, was audited last year for severely underpaying workers, but it’s on rare occasion that full action is taken. Employees are not empowered to speak up due to the circumstances they’re under as uncontracted, casual employees. Doing so could result in being out of a job.
Each individual barista will have their own experience, of course, but I know I’ve only scratched the surface of the true realities here. Through whisper networks, I’ve heard accounts of wage inequality, sexual harassment/assault, and discrimination within the cafes of Australia, and perhaps one day Sprudge will investigate further to cover them. But if there’s anything that could be done to at least address barista exploitation and wage theft now, what would it be?
“Everyone should have benefits, regardless if you’re full time, PPT, or casual,” Akharoh states strongly. “Casual baristas get sick too, and I’d also like to go places on paid leave. But job security is probably the biggest thing I’d like to see change.”
O’Connor shares the same sentiment. “No matter what kind of circumstance you’re in, everyone should have a contract, be paid the same, and have superannuation. Things like sick leave, etcetera should be fairly negotiated.”
But in order for most of these ideas to come to fruition, there also needs to be actual accountability. “Something needs to change on how wages in hospitality are enforced, whether that’s by way of unions or legislation,” Lambie begins. “It needs to be policed, but nobody is doing it because they’re afraid to. And since there’s such an oversaturation of baristas, you’re going to do whatever you can to keep that job.”
To answer the original question of whether Australian baristas have it better because they’re paid more, I’m inclined to say no. It’s with our hope, though, that voicing this can inspire a turning point, and Australia can join the rest of the world in creating a more sustainable livelihood for their baristas.
Michelle Johnson is a news contributor at Sprudge Media Network, and the founder and publisher of The Chocolate Barista. Read more Michelle Johnson on Sprudge.
The post Do Australian Baristas Really Have It Better? appeared first on Sprudge.
Do Australian Baristas Really Have It Better? published first on https://medium.com/@LinLinCoffee
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Do Australian Baristas Really Have It Better?
Way back in 2013, Sprudge launched an investigation into barista wages in a worldwide poll that resulted in a then-enlightening find: Australia has the highest-paid baristas in the world. A second poll was later conducted, focusing solely on the land down under and providing deeper insight into the pay of its coffee workers across the country. It was concluded that on average, Aussie baristas were, in fact, being paid about $7/hour more (in USD) than their US colleagues, tips included. But with all of the charts, figures, and past discourse surrounding this topic, I still can’t help but wonder if the barista’s dreamland of free government healthcare, high wages, and personal time off that many outsiders have come to know as the Australian coffee industry is really all it’s cracked up to be.
Australia has a lot to boast about with respect to coffee—hardly new news to the coffee community. Its cafes are beautifully fitted-out with restaurant-like service and food menus to match. Competition-level baristas serve award-winning coffees priced as high as $150 AUD a cup, and overall, the cafe culture itself is globally influential, with regular mentions in popular news outlets.
When you consider all of this and the country’s running report card of coffee professionals who either win or place on the world competition stage, it’s hard to think this isn’t the place to be for a passionate barista. But one still has to ask—do higher wages and the supposed glamor of the Australian barista actually equate to a better quality of life?
“It depends,” says Sharon Akharoh, a Melbourne-based barista originally from Toronto, Canada. The average wage for a barista in Toronto is around $11/hour (the conversion between the Canadian and Australian dollar are nearly equal as of this writing), with head baristas and managers getting paid upwards of $15/hour. According to Akharoh, the long hours, busy shifts, and dealing with customers is much the same, but there are some striking differences.
“[In Toronto] I couldn’t live comfortably as a barista, so I picked up a second job bartending in the evenings,” she tells us. “And collecting tips helped to pay rent and establish a savings. I don’t need to do all of that here.”
Even though Australia’s cost of living is considerably higher, the income per week from one barista job does cover basic expenses more easily.
At press time, the average barista wage in Australia sits between $18-$25/hour. Though, the wage you receive is highly dependent on whether you’re a full-time, permanent part-time, or casual employee, your number of years of experience, and finally, how well you can negotiate your wage and benefits (including superannuation, the retirement fund paid into by employers). This leaves a lot of space for baristas to be overworked and exploited. Much to our surprise, this is the actual reality of a majority of the Australian coffee workforce.
“It’s truly the ‘Wild Wild West of Coffee’ down here,” Jessica Lambie, a Melbourne barista at St. Ali with 10 years in the industry, speaks honestly. “Most baristas are working casual and have no real job security, even though they’re being paid more per hour.”
In lieu of job security and benefits, casual baristas receive the highest rates, typically between $25-$30/hour. The Fair Work Ombudsman (FWO) states that a casual employee “does not have a firm commitment in advance from an employer about how long they will be employed for, or the days (or hours) they will work. A casual employee also does not commit to all work an employer might offer.”
Like many baristas around the world, the schedule of a casual employee could change week to week, but they’re not guaranteed a set (or any) amount of hours. Furthermore, a casual employee isn’t entitled to sick/annual leave or superannuation can end their employment and also have their employment ended at any time unless there’s a contractual agreement. But for nearly all casual baristas, contract agreements are extremely rare.
In Lambie’s long tenure working in New South Wales and Victoria, she’s only signed one or two contracts. Akharoh was originally on a permanent part-time contract at her previous employer but became casual when the contract was voided after the cafe sold to new owners. Georgia O’Connor, Minor Figures Sales & Marketing Manager for the Asia-Pacific region, recalls a similar experience during her time as a barista. O’Connor’s worked in the coffee industry for a decade as well between Sydney, Melbourne, and multiple short stints in London. The only contract she ever signed was at Proud Mary Coffee as a permanent part-time employee.
According to the FWO, permanent part-time (PPT) employees work less than 38 hours a week on average, are entitled to earn annual and sick leave on a pro-rata basis, and are on ongoing employment or fixed-term contracts. In coffee, PPT baristas also earn the least, at $18-$20/hour. Yet in what seems to be an attempt to keep wage costs low but keep the bar staffed, many cafe businesses give their PPT baristas full-time hours (40-50/hours a week) on a PPT rate.
As for the books, they’ll show PPT baristas working close to 38 hours and anything extra is paid out in cash. These situations are very common, according to Lambie, who’s had cafes offer to pay out half on the books, half in cash from the jump. “In my experience, it’s been suggested I also ‘get on the dole’ [apply for welfare], and that’s happened on more than one occasion.”
For O’Connor, this was the motivating reason behind deciding herself to move to casual. “I was already working full-time hours without the pay, and I wasn’t using any of my PPT benefits. It made more sense to not have benefits but better pay.”
So do full-time baristas who work on the books actually exist? They do, but it’s seemingly only offered to the head barista position. Head baristas are often on salary, receive a set amount of sick and annual leave, and guaranteed hours each week. And that’s only if the head barista negotiates those conditions. (I’ve been told it’s more often the case that a cafe’s head barista is casual and will have almost no contracted workers on bar.)
Another major stress, especially for casual employees, is not being able to take off necessary time for health-related or personal reasons due to fears of being let go on the spot. Since the market in Australia is so saturated—notably in Melbourne—cafes can easily find a barista to fill a shift. As a result, turnover rates are high. (At least they have the benefit of nationalized Medicare, which covers basic healthcare needs affordably.)
The exploitation of cafe workers and their wages doesn’t stop there. The FWO requires hospitality businesses to pay their staff a “penalty rate,” or an increased wage, on the weekends and public holidays. To offset the penalty rate and keep from eating into a business’ bottom line, it’s normal for that cost to be passed onto customers through a 10-20% surcharge during those days. It’s also normal, albeit quietly and illegally, for businesses to not pay penalty rates and still have a weekend/public holiday surcharge. But accountability is so low, not much is done about it.
The lack of accountability and normalization of these work environments are why things have rarely changed, not just in coffee but across the hospitality industry. Australia’s wealthiest restaurant empire, the Rockpool Dining Group, was audited last year for severely underpaying workers, but it’s on rare occasion that full action is taken. Employees are not empowered to speak up due to the circumstances they’re under as uncontracted, casual employees. Doing so could result in being out of a job.
Each individual barista will have their own experience, of course, but I know I’ve only scratched the surface of the true realities here. Through whisper networks, I’ve heard accounts of wage inequality, sexual harassment/assault, and discrimination within the cafes of Australia, and perhaps one day Sprudge will investigate further to cover them. But if there’s anything that could be done to at least address barista exploitation and wage theft now, what would it be?
“Everyone should have benefits, regardless if you’re full time, PPT, or casual,” Akharoh states strongly. “Casual baristas get sick too, and I’d also like to go places on paid leave. But job security is probably the biggest thing I’d like to see change.”
O’Connor shares the same sentiment. “No matter what kind of circumstance you’re in, everyone should have a contract, be paid the same, and have superannuation. Things like sick leave, etcetera should be fairly negotiated.”
But in order for most of these ideas to come to fruition, there also needs to be actual accountability. “Something needs to change on how wages in hospitality are enforced, whether that’s by way of unions or legislation,” Lambie begins. “It needs to be policed, but nobody is doing it because they’re afraid to. And since there’s such an oversaturation of baristas, you’re going to do whatever you can to keep that job.”
To answer the original question of whether Australian baristas have it better because they’re paid more, I’m inclined to say no. It’s with our hope, though, that voicing this can inspire a turning point, and Australia can join the rest of the world in creating a more sustainable livelihood for their baristas.
Michelle Johnson is a news contributor at Sprudge Media Network, and the founder and publisher of The Chocolate Barista. Read more Michelle Johnson on Sprudge.
The post Do Australian Baristas Really Have It Better? appeared first on Sprudge.
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How to Add More Joy to Your Days
It’s safe to say that most of us would love more joy in our lives, particularly when it feels like the hours blend together into one big blur, and we find ourselves feeling blah.
Yet, do you know what brings you joy?
Sometimes, we can get so swept up in the daily hustle that we forget to ask ourselves this question—and we have no idea about the answer.
According to therapist Lynn Zakeri, LCSW, “joy is found in different ways by different people.”
She defines joy as “better than feeling good,” and “better than fun.” It’s forgetting about your stress and troubles, and being in the moment, truly enjoying yourself, she said. “Joy is memorable.”
Zakeri finds joy in laughing with loved ones. “The feeling of ‘you get me’ is all I need.”
Some of her clients at her Chicago private practice find joy in overcoming a challenge. For other clients, joy arises out of an experience, such as hiking or having a heart-to-heart with a friend.
For therapist Renee Cage-Watson, LCSW, joy resides in being at peace with who she is and her purpose. “I honor and own my story; therefore, I own my power to create the life I desire,” said Cage-Watson, owner of Empowered by Courage Counseling in San Leandro, Calif., who works with children, adolescents, families, and adults.
Similarly, Laura Trapani, LCSW, a therapist and owner of the Chicago private practice TherapyLink, noted that “joy is a natural feeling of euphoria that we are inherently born with and can cultivate throughout our lives if we stay true to ourselves.”
According to psychologist Jenn Hardy, Ph.D, therapists sometimes think of emotions as family trees. We can think of joy as a family on its own. “Within that family you’ll find bliss, exuberance, and delight. You’ll also find happy contentedness, enjoyment, and the happiness you feel when you find something to be really funny.”
When adding more joy to your life, the key is to pause for a bit, and get curious about your personal version of joy. Below, you’ll find a variety of ideas—but ultimately, of course, it’s up to you.
Care for yourself. For starters, “it’s hard for joy to poke through a thick blanket of exhaustion,” said Hardy, who runs a private practice in Maryville, Tenn. Which is why she stressed the importance of respecting our limits, communicating those limits to others, getting enough sleep, moving our bodies, taking breaks, and extending ourselves some grace.
Create an inventory. Cage-Watson asks her clients to create a list of big or small joyful activities, and do one of those activities every day. For instance, a joyful activity might be taking 5 minutes to make up a poem about your morning. It might be listening to music or a guided meditation. It might be watching a funny film with your spouse. It might be reading about the history of dinosaurs or the history of writing for 30 minutes. It might be waking up 20 minutes before your kids, and eating breakfast in bed.
Cultivate healthy relationships. Clinton Power, a clinical relationship counsellor and founder of Clinton Power + Associates in Sydney, Australia, emphasized the significance of relationships in affecting our mental health.
“When your relationships are poor, you may feel anxiety, depression, and ill-health. And when your relationships are going well—full of love, care, fondness, and trust—you will experience an overall feeling of wellbeing, hence, enhancing your capacity for joy.”
Power suggested spending fun, quality time with loved ones, along with quickly repairing any conflicts that come up.
Help others. “When we help others, we help ourselves,” Cage-Watson said. “Often the more one gives, the greater the feelings of gratification.” Cage-Watson’s clients have done everything from walking a sick neighbor’s dog to joining an anti-bullying advocacy group to participating in outreach work with their church. She used to volunteer at a safe house for women who escaped human trafficking.
If you’d like to volunteer, Cage-Watson recommended using the app VolunteerMatch, which matches you with volunteer opportunities based on your interests.
Jot down a gratitude list. Clinical psychologist Steven M. Yousha, PsyD. LCSW, encouraged readers to focus on what is going right in your life. Specifically, he said, create a list of things, people, places, and opportunities that you can be thankful for. He shared these examples: your home, health insurance, public parks, music, family, travel, a job promotion.
“Once you have that list, look at it several times per day to keep it more in awareness.”
Create joy around stress. “Notice what time of day you feel the most stressed and be mindful of what triggers it,” said Trapani, who specializes in working with individuals and families dealing with anxiety and depression related disorders.
Then add sparks of joy to those moments. For instance, she said, during the morning rush, pause for a few seconds to smile and thank the barista who makes your coffee; or before a tough meeting, send a quick email to a close friend you haven’t talked to in a while.
Connect to nature. If you live in a bustling city, Power suggested going on a day or weekend trip to a natural environment. If that’s not possible, sit on a park bench at lunchtime or take a walk, and note the different natural things you see. Or watch a sunrise or sunset, Cage-Watson said. Or look up at the night sky. As Ralph Waldo Emerson famously wrote, “If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore.”
Set boundaries around joyless habits. “We are a society obsessed with “finding happiness” and, yet, we are not a society that cultivates a lot of time for joy,” Trapani said.
“In today’s fast-paced, technology-driven world it is easy to feel like you cannot leave any email unanswered or problem unsolved.” Many of Trapani’s clients are working parents who can’t stop thinking about work when they’re at home—and can’t stop working.
“All too often working parents are trying to get dinner ready, spend time with their kids, and answer work emails and texts all at once.”
Whether you’re a parent or not, setting boundaries around habits that trigger the opposite of joy is vital. For example, Trapani suggests her clients keep their phones in one area of the house—as though each cell phone were “a land line or a desktop computer with dial-up internet.” When her clients do this, they report feeling more present and in control.
Trapani also recommended deleting social media from your phone—another joyless habit for most of us. As she said, “there used to be a day when we could go through a breakup and not ever know what our ex was doing with their weekend, let alone their entire life. Before social media we did not know if we were not invited to an event or party on a Saturday night, because no one was live streaming the event as we sat at home and watched.”
Adding more joy to our days means thinking through what joy specifically looks—and tastes, smells, sounds, and feels—like to you. It also means identifying the habits that stress you out—and seeing how joy might live there, too.
Adding more joy to our days isn’t about chasing happiness. It isn’t about striving to only feel good, and dismissing the real pain that exists in our lives. Rather, it’s about empowering yourself. It’s about staying true to your desires and dreams. It’s about caring for yourself. It’s about creating, accessing, and acknowledging joy’s many forms—delight, contentment, satisfaction—in small, yet meaningful, ways.
Sometimes, this is as simple as pausing and opening our eyes.
from World of Psychology https://ift.tt/2JGsziM
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How to Add More Joy to Your Days
It’s safe to say that most of us would love more joy in our lives, particularly when it feels like the hours blend together into one big blur, and we find ourselves feeling blah.
Yet, do you know what brings you joy?
Sometimes, we can get so swept up in the daily hustle that we forget to ask ourselves this question—and we have no idea about the answer.
According to therapist Lynn Zakeri, LCSW, “joy is found in different ways by different people.”
She defines joy as “better than feeling good,” and “better than fun.” It’s forgetting about your stress and troubles, and being in the moment, truly enjoying yourself, she said. “Joy is memorable.”
Zakeri finds joy in laughing with loved ones. “The feeling of ‘you get me’ is all I need.”
Some of her clients at her Chicago private practice find joy in overcoming a challenge. For other clients, joy arises out of an experience, such as hiking or having a heart-to-heart with a friend.
For therapist Renee Cage-Watson, LCSW, joy resides in being at peace with who she is and her purpose. “I honor and own my story; therefore, I own my power to create the life I desire,” said Cage-Watson, owner of Empowered by Courage Counseling in San Leandro, Calif., who works with children, adolescents, families, and adults.
Similarly, Laura Trapani, LCSW, a therapist and owner of the Chicago private practice TherapyLink, noted that “joy is a natural feeling of euphoria that we are inherently born with and can cultivate throughout our lives if we stay true to ourselves.”
According to psychologist Jenn Hardy, Ph.D, therapists sometimes think of emotions as family trees. We can think of joy as a family on its own. “Within that family you’ll find bliss, exuberance, and delight. You’ll also find happy contentedness, enjoyment, and the happiness you feel when you find something to be really funny.”
When adding more joy to your life, the key is to pause for a bit, and get curious about your personal version of joy. Below, you’ll find a variety of ideas—but ultimately, of course, it’s up to you.
Care for yourself. For starters, “it’s hard for joy to poke through a thick blanket of exhaustion,” said Hardy, who runs a private practice in Maryville, Tenn. Which is why she stressed the importance of respecting our limits, communicating those limits to others, getting enough sleep, moving our bodies, taking breaks, and extending ourselves some grace.
Create an inventory. Cage-Watson asks her clients to create a list of big or small joyful activities, and do one of those activities every day. For instance, a joyful activity might be taking 5 minutes to make up a poem about your morning. It might be listening to music or a guided meditation. It might be watching a funny film with your spouse. It might be reading about the history of dinosaurs or the history of writing for 30 minutes. It might be waking up 20 minutes before your kids, and eating breakfast in bed.
Cultivate healthy relationships. Clinton Power, a clinical relationship counsellor and founder of Clinton Power + Associates in Sydney, Australia, emphasized the significance of relationships in affecting our mental health.
“When your relationships are poor, you may feel anxiety, depression, and ill-health. And when your relationships are going well—full of love, care, fondness, and trust—you will experience an overall feeling of wellbeing, hence, enhancing your capacity for joy.”
Power suggested spending fun, quality time with loved ones, along with quickly repairing any conflicts that come up.
Help others. “When we help others, we help ourselves,” Cage-Watson said. “Often the more one gives, the greater the feelings of gratification.” Cage-Watson’s clients have done everything from walking a sick neighbor’s dog to joining an anti-bullying advocacy group to participating in outreach work with their church. She used to volunteer at a safe house for women who escaped human trafficking.
If you’d like to volunteer, Cage-Watson recommended using the app VolunteerMatch, which matches you with volunteer opportunities based on your interests.
Jot down a gratitude list. Clinical psychologist Steven M. Yousha, PsyD. LCSW, encouraged readers to focus on what is going right in your life. Specifically, he said, create a list of things, people, places, and opportunities that you can be thankful for. He shared these examples: your home, health insurance, public parks, music, family, travel, a job promotion.
“Once you have that list, look at it several times per day to keep it more in awareness.”
Create joy around stress. “Notice what time of day you feel the most stressed and be mindful of what triggers it,” said Trapani, who specializes in working with individuals and families dealing with anxiety and depression related disorders.
Then add sparks of joy to those moments. For instance, she said, during the morning rush, pause for a few seconds to smile and thank the barista who makes your coffee; or before a tough meeting, send a quick email to a close friend you haven’t talked to in a while.
Connect to nature. If you live in a bustling city, Power suggested going on a day or weekend trip to a natural environment. If that’s not possible, sit on a park bench at lunchtime or take a walk, and note the different natural things you see. Or watch a sunrise or sunset, Cage-Watson said. Or look up at the night sky. As Ralph Waldo Emerson famously wrote, “If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore.”
Set boundaries around joyless habits. “We are a society obsessed with “finding happiness” and, yet, we are not a society that cultivates a lot of time for joy,” Trapani said.
“In today’s fast-paced, technology-driven world it is easy to feel like you cannot leave any email unanswered or problem unsolved.” Many of Trapani’s clients are working parents who can’t stop thinking about work when they’re at home—and can’t stop working.
“All too often working parents are trying to get dinner ready, spend time with their kids, and answer work emails and texts all at once.”
Whether you’re a parent or not, setting boundaries around habits that trigger the opposite of joy is vital. For example, Trapani suggests her clients keep their phones in one area of the house—as though each cell phone were “a land line or a desktop computer with dial-up internet.” When her clients do this, they report feeling more present and in control.
Trapani also recommended deleting social media from your phone—another joyless habit for most of us. As she said, “there used to be a day when we could go through a breakup and not ever know what our ex was doing with their weekend, let alone their entire life. Before social media we did not know if we were not invited to an event or party on a Saturday night, because no one was live streaming the event as we sat at home and watched.”
Adding more joy to our days means thinking through what joy specifically looks—and tastes, smells, sounds, and feels—like to you. It also means identifying the habits that stress you out—and seeing how joy might live there, too.
Adding more joy to our days isn’t about chasing happiness. It isn’t about striving to only feel good, and dismissing the real pain that exists in our lives. Rather, it’s about empowering yourself. It’s about staying true to your desires and dreams. It’s about caring for yourself. It’s about creating, accessing, and acknowledging joy’s many forms—delight, contentment, satisfaction—in small, yet meaningful, ways.
Sometimes, this is as simple as pausing and opening our eyes.
from World of Psychology https://ift.tt/2JGsziM
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Love on the Weekend
I haven’t written in two months for two reasons, one being I needed to see where and when my life would settle for good. The other reason, because I wasn’t in the correct head-space to write this-- I needed to be somewhere between a total state of bliss, throwing all cares to the wind but also taking deep breaths to acknowledge the overwhelming notion that this is most likely where my journey alone ends.
Last I wrote, I moved back up to Shepparton to pursue things with Coca Cola man and begin work at Noble Monks, a restaurant/cafe. In that time, we adventured to Sydney on an eight hour drive for a four day weekend where I finally saw the Opera House, walked the Circular Quay, flounced in a dress under the sun of Bondi Beach, and took a ferry to Manly Beach while staying in one of the most luxurious and peaceful studio Airbnb’s I’ve ever stayed in. Sydney was the vibe I initially thought Australia would be and that I wanted when I moved here, but in comparing Melbourne to Sydney, Melbourne wins simply because of the art, coffee, and overall eclectic culture. Over these four days, it was also a time of assessing and being honest with myself about the proposed prospect of traveling more with him in Europe come mid-August, which I eventually decided was not the route I wanted to take.
The month I had been back in Shepparton, my mind felt clouded/confused and guilty because my feelings towards Coca Cola man were blocked from progressing based on several factors, among the main ones being I met someone in those two brief weeks in St. Kilda that had a significant impact on me. Introducing Barista Guy but since he’ll be sticking around a while, his name is Cameron. I used to frequent a cafe on the Acland strip before I moved back to St. Kilda for a second time, so I decided to head there again with my friend, Ria, before we ventured off one morning to look for jobs. We walked into Ground Yourself Cafe, and from the moment he took our orders and walked away I turned to Ria and said, “I will have two of him to go, please”. I was mildly smitten, so I went in again the next day. I wanted to go in again, I couldn’t go in three days in a row or he’d get suspicious, but as fate or coincidence would have it, a few days later I was heading to my old workaway’s house for dinner a half hour early and we ran into each other at the same tram stop. In this short 20 minute conversation, it was like ticking off every box to an imaginary list I had made for my dream man: spirituality, living for the moment, traveler, from New Zealand aka sexy accent, perfect age (32), vegetarian lifestyle, fit/active of his own will, musician, good conversationalist, handsome, sexy tattoo, barista, quotes lyrics and literature.... all this.... in 20 minutes of talking. To say he kind of took my breath away is an understatement. I messaged my mom and might have said something to the effect of meeting my husband.
I went back to the cafe a few days later and pretended to need help with basic barista stuff but tuned out listening halfway through trying to figure out what the forest tattoo on his forearm meant and analyzing little things like his haircut and lips. But something was off in our interaction that made me feel he wasn’t into me. I also hadn’t found any work yet and it was drab/cold in St. Kilda during winter. Coca Cola man offered housing, a job via his sister’s work, a spare car to use, and comfort of a potential relationship so I weighed my options, and I went back, which I’m still glad I did because I learned even more lessons that I wouldn’t have had things lined up or worked out with Cameron right from the start.
I got the opportunity to gain better skills as a waitress and also my own designated day as head barista on Sundays, thus developing the skill of latte art. I learned how to see things from another perspective based on my relationship that allowed me to reflect and truly let go of my heartbreak from earlier this year. I discovered my future plans were not actions that were going to lead me to my best self so I decided to not work for Stoke Travel at Oktoberfest in September. I realized the people I want to surround myself with are not people who talk about others behind their back but rather talk about events, music, and ideas which show their maturity and growth as a person. Above all, I learned that I kept saying I didn’t want a serious relationship, but in fact I didn’t want a serious relationship with the wrong person again because putting in so much work, vulnerability, soul, and effort to not have it reciprocated in our values, mentalities, and goals wasn’t worth it. I had a clear idea of what I wanted, and I think the universe knew I was finally in a space to accept it into my life after everything this year had brought me.
Remember how I said I always had the goal of going to Paris from the time I was eight? My other goal, as anti-feminist and patriarchal as this is, but from the same age it has always been to find my soulmate and be the best wife I can be. It was never a goal to have children, be a doctor or vet (I may have wanted to chase tornadoes but realized I was really bad at science), but it’s why I’ve never ultimately settled for mediocre relationships despite people saying they were better than most. I wanted ‘the one’ to travel with, make music with, and be disgustingly in love in every way imaginable. I’d begun to lose sight of that kind of romance being that it’s been elusive and diluted by experiences, but that tiny thread of hope held out, and I’ve started to rebuild the notion that it does exist.
Fast forward through me telling Cam I had feelings for him and vice versa, spending the past three weeks having some of the deepest, most intense and long conversations I’ve ever had in my life, meeting friends, family, claiming sound advice from sources about cautious optimism, and truly listening to my intuition like I have always done.
I am here, back in St. Kilda (third time’s a charm) now living with this incredible human, already sharing a beautiful life knowing it’s only going to get better. Sure, I’ve gotten backlash about how it’s fast, and trust me, both his and my mind were frantically searching for reasons this wouldn’t work. Our minds were racing the first night I moved in and we took a lot of those deep breaths I talked about earlier. We both know how it feels at the beginning of something new, with intense obsession and teenage butterflies. We both have endured enough pain and mistakes to enter this relationship with a clear vision of who we want to be and the kind of life we want together. The difference with the beginning of this union is we aren’t trying to impress each other or anyone else. We are being as transparent about our emotions, mental states, weirdness, quirks, tantrums, freak-outs, perfections and everything in between because we don’t want to play games anymore. Everything I went through this year just makes sense now that I’ve ended up here and I would go through all of it again to get to the same place. Our intuition is so insanely connected. We constantly know what the other person is thinking and feeling which makes our relationship easy and natural. We respect each other’s emotional, physical, and creative space, and feel secure and safe to express anything we need to. We are in awe of each other, confused of how lucky we got in this life. The foundation we have already built is strong, and very real.
Because of this transparency, we decided to book round-trip flights together back to California and Ohio for Thanksgiving and Christmas. While my visa expires in November, I may come back on a different kind of visa. ;)
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