DREAMS CAN COME TRUE

Sometimes, you’ve just got to throw it out there.

You’ve got to trust the universe, take a risk, and pray to fuck that things work out.

Such is the case for myself and my new career.

So this was the plan.  Resign from my job and give twelve months’ notice.  This gives the boys time to adjust and time to find someone else.  When my course finished, I wanted to finish work, so that I’d be free to find a new job in my new career, without the delay of notice.

Thinking back, I don’t know if I handled my ‘resignation’ very well.  I basically told the boys I wanted to go back to school, so I needed to cut back my hours.  And I was doing this with a view to changing careers.  They were shell shock, and I think I was too, because the reality of my situation really hit home.

So, as my studies progressed, and my second course started in July, I mentally started thinking about what direction I wanted to take, and where I would like to work.

Considering the main type of employment I have had was administrative, I really didn’t know where to start with hospitality. 

Also taking into consideration the fact that I had not had a job interview or prepared a resume for nearly fourteen years, the entire concept of a career change at 43 years of age was frightening.

I started second-guessing myself and having panic attacks again, and wondering if what I was doing was the right thing.

I started panicking about my car payments, mortgage payments, health, impact upon Charlie… everything.  It was totally freaking me out, and as the end of my course drew closer, I seriously didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do.

Then, out of the blue, I received ‘the’ phone call.

Picture this.  I live in a small country town, in North Central Victoria. There is fuck all here.  Fuck all.  A general store, a primary school, the CFA, a concrete statue business, a hall and of course; the pub.  That’s it.  About three hundred people live in Tooby, spread out over quite a few hundred hectares.  Fuck all.

What is the likelihood of someone with my experience and training getting a job in town? 

A million to one.

Well, I’m never taking that ‘million to one’ statement lightly again, because I’m the one in a million that landed a job at the pub.

So, around the middle of last year, Charlie and I accidentally had dinner with the owners of the pub.  We went in for dinner one night, and the owners were having dinner at the same time, and invited us to join them.

Was a lovely night, just chatting about all different sorts of bullshit, but I planted the seed that I was studying hospitality, and would be looking for work toward the end of the year.

So, how’s this for an example of all the fucken planets aligning.

A few months after this dinner date, one of the chefs at the pub decides it’s time to move on.  No problem there.  It happens. 

So the Head Chef is having her hair cut by one of my friends, and just so happens to mention that they’re looking for a new chef.

What does my darling friend do?  ‘You know Lee Buttler is studying hospitality at the moment?  She wants to be a chef? You should talk to her?’

Of course, the Head Chef knew me, and knew I could cook (thank you Facebook for allowing me to post up a million photos of the food I love to make, allowing everyone in the southern hemisphere to see that I am a relatively competent cook that is passionate about food), and immediately lost her shit.

She picked up the phone and called the owner of the pub, whom had had dinner with me but a few months before, and said ‘What about Lee Buttler?’ and the owner was like ‘Shit…. I forgot she was studying! Let’s get her in here!’

So I get ‘the’ phone call that changed my life.

The owner asked me where I was at, what I’m looking for and if I would like come in for a chat.

Fuck me.  Shit just got real.

Bring on a mild panic attack.

So, I had my interview with the owners and the Head Chef, and got the distinct impression that I already had the job before I walked in the door.

I love the Head Chef.  She’s awesome.  It’s interesting, through our discussions, that we seem to complement each other’s cooking.  She’s awesome at everything except desserts, and I’m pretty good generally, and really good at desserts.

When the last chef left, they had lost the person that does there desserts, so it would appear that I had the potential to be a good replacement for her.

Five months later, I feel that I’m settling in well, getting the hang of everything, and am running a good, diverse dessert menu which changes on a weekly basis.

I’ve designed the desserts so they can be plated up by pretty much anyone, from the owners to the fifteen year old kitchen hands.  All they have to do is follow the instructions, and BAM! Awesome looking dessert.

I had a very proud moment today in the kitchen.  When I was cleaning up the kitchen after service, one of the kitchen hands on the next shift came in.  She saw me, her face lit up, and she ripped her phone out of her pocket and started flicking through it.

‘I did all the desserts last night, Lee, and I think I did really well.’ She said.  Bless her heart, she’d taken photos of all the plates she had done (just like I do!) and showed me.  They were fucking sensational!  She’d done an awesome job, and I made a point of saying that in front of the owner and Head Chef, who were standing there.

I like to praise the kids for a good job, because sometimes, the kitchen can be incredibly stressful and fast paced, and it can leave your head spinning.  They are good kids that do exactly what you ask them to do, when you ask them, without complaint or question, and do it to the best of their abilities.  They need to be acknowledged for this, I think.  Encouragement and praise goes a long, long way.

We all like it really, don’t we? :D

The thing I find about this place though, is that everyone there is really nice.  Like, you naturally have the odd political issue pop up every now and then, but generally, everyone is really nice. 

I learnt a month or so ago, that they were a little nervous about me starting, because they didn’t know what to expect.  Would I be cranky and surly, demanding and unrealistic? Would I be dictatorial and inflexible; would I be selfish or a team player?

Needless to say, they all love me, and get excited when I’m rostered on because… well, they’re only human :D

I figure that I don’t give them too much grief, and try to work with them. We’re all one big team, after all. 

I don’t leave the kitchen until the kitchen hand has finished the dishes. I would feel guilty leaving them there to slog away without helping them.  Doesn’t seem right.  I’m certainly not above doing dishes and mopping floors.  When I am rostered on by myself in the kitchen, I have to do it anyway, so what’s the difference if I help someone else?  Gets us both out earlier. 

If I finish early, I often ask the front of house team if they need any help, and may mop the toilets or something for them.  In turn, if I’ve been under the pump, the front of house guys may come out and sweep and mop my floor for me.  It all works out in the end :D

I feel that it’s like a family there, and I’m the newest member J  I feel welcome and appreciated, and everyone seems to like my desserts.  A bit different to what they’re use to, I believe.  That’s ok.  No negative reflection on chefs of the past.  It is what it is, and nothing more.

When I’m working through the week, the front of house guys come floating into the kitchen to see not only what I’m baking or making dessert wise, but hoping that there may be some samples, like chocolate mud cake, to nibble on! LOL! It’s gorgeous :D

I said to Charlie the other day that I feel like I’ve landed on my feet after leaving TAFE.

For starters, what’s the likelihood of landing a job so locally?  Like, I use to drive four hours a day for work, now I’m driving about a fifteen minute round trip.  242 kms to 12.  Fuck me.

Then, I fully expected to land a job as a kitchen hand, and work my way up from there.  But no; just skipped over all of that.  Sure, I wash dishes and mop floors, as I’ve said, but my role there is too cook and present food.  To prepare and cook a dessert menu.  To run service shifts on my own and with others.  Not something a fresh graduate would be expecting to do.

Most of my other TAFE peeps are still unemployed, or they are working as kitchen hands doing basic cooking tasks.  None of them are as full on as I am.  However, that’s just the luck of the draw, isn’t it?

So, this is where I become thankful.  This is where I become appreciative.  This is where I count myself lucky, right?

You fucken bet it is.

Sure, I’ve worked very hard and taken a lot of risks to travel down this path, and thankfully, the rewards have been there for me at the end. 

I think I knew, in my heart, I would find work somewhere pretty quickly.  I just didn’t know where.  Charlie questioned the validity of pretty much taking the first job I was offered. He wondered if I should hold out for something else.

I remember saying that I had nothing to lose by taking it.  If I didn’t work out, I could just move on to something else.  Simples.

Luckily for me, it seems to be working out, and for that, I’m truly thankful.

Keep chasing your dreams, peeps.  Sometimes, they do come true.

Peace out.