the smell of beans and peals of laughter

When i was in Melbourne, i took on a job as a waitress with just a meager pay of 30 Aussie A DAY on weekends at Peggy's family-runned cafe in the suburbs. Some of you must be wondering as to why i would even consider working there considerin the pay. But it isn't about the money and i was poor back then.

In all honesty i wouldn't mind working there for free...

I got to spend time with my bbf(bestest best friend) and the best times of my uni life was spent in the that cafe with the constant smell of coffee beans that permeated throughout the place. I would even smell of beans after i left.

I would work with Pegs on Saturdays. I took the train and arrived at 1030. I would come in late most of the time and peggy would have already set up the cafe for business for the day. Our usual client in the morning,would be a weird old lady who has the worst eating ettiquette i have ever seen on a woman with bits of food falling onto her blouse and the sofa. We would mutter curses at her and Peggy would tell me past experiences of this lady who would often make unusual and ridiculous demands ("Could you heat up the tomato slices in my sandwhich?"). After she leaves, we were burdened with the task of cleaning up her mess. Even other customers found her alitte....off.

Then there were the regular normal few.....the only ones i remembered,a gay man who used to hit on the cafe ex-chef(always latte with soy milk), a china student (regular coffee on the go),some indonesian couples or families with their dogs....

But it was never overpacked with customers and it wasnt always too empty. If it was which is usually at the end of the day Peggy and i were left doing nothing and that's dangerous.

We would come up with all sort of weird and disgusting coffee conconctions, sneak bites or sips on the cakes or cookies or beverages, experiment with matches and aluminium foils (we made mini-rockets) but we were usually talking and roaring with laughter till we choked or when Peggy's mom would reprimand us via the intercom. My best times laughing or crying behind the coffee making machine counter in that small cafe in the quiet suburbs with sun shining through the tall windows and that delicious smell of coffee beans.

All i worried about back then was whether we managed to get all the slugs out of the cabbages we were assigned to chop to how much carrots i could slice up within the hour or whether there was enough milk in the fridge!

How simple it was back then....