Cafe Fig Tree

Cafe Fig Tree was located in the Hills District area, known for its super conservative suburbs and money. It was a lovely atmosphere, downstairs it opened up into a huge seating area that had willow trees that hung over the water. The koi fish in the pond were old and large and worth a fortune. Many times, I thought about stealing those fish and selling them on the black market, but I lack the criminal contacts and can do. Quite frankly I think I would stagnate at low level street hooker if I tried to make it in the criminal world and my ego would never allow me to be a poorly paid prostitute, so there we have it, the reason I am the respectable citizen you see before you is because I’m a combination of lazy, un-connected and have an elevated sense of my own dignity. That and my driving pretty much guaranteed the fish would be dead from terror before I left the car park.

The Cafe could sit up to 250 people, almost 300 on Mother’s Day when we brought in extra chairs and tables to cater for the needs of the middle-class masses. Any Aussie familiar with D list Australian ‘celebrities’ would recognise some of our regulars. Bec Hewitt, famous for being on Home and Away before her almost-teen marriage to number 1 tennis player Lleyton Hewitt a week after meeting him, is a personal hero of mine. Girl tied down that meal ticket early and now lives in a mansion in the Bahamas. Delta Goodrem, Australia’s version of Anne Hathaway, talented for sure, but incredibly unlikable for reasons you can never explain. So, as you can see, Café Fig Tree was THE place to be for your conservative future house wives with aspirations for upward mobility. On a weekday we could earn up to 4k and on a Sunday we could easily bring in up to 13k feeding the stomachs and sensibilities of our plucky middle-class dreamers. Because those who have dreams of one day trophy wifeing are rarely astute business men or women, and the owner dreamed of nothing else, money raced out the door as quickly as it came in. Before long, Café Fig Tree was like a fading starlet boring her companions with stories, they had heard a million times about how she was once beautiful and how she once had the world at her feet.

Don, the owner with frustrated trophy wife dreams, was middle aged with two bratty kids and a limp excuse for a man as a husband. Don was absolutely clueless and without Christy the Cafe would have fallen apart much sooner than it did. Christy and I did a lot for Café Fig Tree, stuff that was well outside our job descriptions, and well outside my area of expertise. Picture me, a debonair young chap unfamiliar with traditionally masculine pursuits, stripping, sanding, polishing and oiling a large wooden floor. It took me a week and did a number on my nails, but I did a beautiful job because that’s what I do, I make things beautiful. The professional quote for the job was $10,000. I did $10K worth of manual labour for nothing more than my regular wages, not even a thank-you because that is how middle-class bitches with lofty ambitions roll.

I was definitely a bit lost in this period of my life. I was in a shambolic relationship with Jordan, constantly arguing with Christy and I had still not come out to my parents. But for a time, Café Fig Tree was lovely. We hired a delightful array of people, my favourite being Kris. Kris was a chef, with a lovely chef partner, and unlike me Kris had her shit together and stood up for the things that mattered. Have you ever been able to smell something off, and searched for the source only to discover that the source, is you? Have you spent a couple of hours haunted by the smell of shit only to find that you have stepped in a dog crap and carted it around with you all day fouling up everything you step on? This is one of those stories.

My downfall of Cafe Fig Tree began when I started fighting with Christy and took it out on the other staff. A guy called Jack bore the brunt of my frustrated lashing out. I, to this day, still despise Jack, but that doesn’t mean I was right to treat him the way I did.

Jack was, and apparently still is an aspiring actor. Don’t look so shocked gentle reader, the catty gay man trope is a trope for a reason and there is no arguing with the fact I have never once seen Jack acting in anything. Jack always rang in sick if there was a casting. Good on Jack chasing his dream and all that jazz, but the thing about dreams is other people are left carrying the reality while you are off chasing them. As his manager I got tired of being left in the lurch. I started to bully him a bit when he did show up, to punish him for all the times he hadn’t. It was a stupid thing to do. Jack was actually one of the more experienced cafe workers and was in fact really quite good at the job. I saw Jack’s potential in hospitality and it frustrated me that Jack kept fucking it up and letting me down to chase a pipe dream.

I was fired for potential sexual harassment. Jack gathered the staff behind my back and staged a coup. Christy knew what was coming but did nothing to warn me. Jack was in the closet, and for some reason I deeply resented him for this. I wasn’t yet out to my family, but I was out to my friends and Jacks denials infuriated me. I found him on a gay app and said hi, and he blocked me and pretended it had never happened. Jack accused me of saying inappropriate things that made him uncomfortable and of spreading malicious rumours that he was gay. I was already on thin ice, and sexual harassment accusations were the final straw. In hindsight I should have taken it on the chin, but for some reason I responded like an unfairly accused defending their innocence, despite knowing the accusations against me were not unfair and I was not innocent. I flounced away from a well-paid management position I had held for 4 years because someone had called me out on my shit.