Everything you know about hospitality is wrong

Forget that 'customer is always right' bullshit. In Melbourne, the customer is always wrong! White Melburnians love nothing more than that feeling of inferiority they get when entering coffee shops staffed by people more fashionable than them. They want to see that air of disdain from the barista when approaching the counter and they crave those feelings of inadequacy that come from being silently eyeballed by patrons with trendier haircuts as they do a masochistic walk of shame through the cafe while grovelling in front of the register, ingratiatingly ordering a coffee 'if it's not too much trouble'. The payoff is; (1) getting to whinge about it later and, (2) being seen drinking coffee out of a white paper cup stamped with the logo of a culturally sanctioned cafe. The stamp is their visa for entry into White Melbourne but be careful - this visa expires as soon as the cup is empty. Yet these cups are considered so aesthetically pleasing they are then reused to decorate the footpaths and gutters of White Melbourne. Now others can enjoy them too!

Portugese tarts

Forget about Brunetti's pastry that desperately wants you to think it's gourmet, if you want the approval of white Melburnians then it's best to be heard talking about Portugese tarts. They are slightly smaller, have slightly more flavour and are slightly more expensive than conventional custard tarts yet are considered immensely superior. But don't worry if you can't find them in Portugal, they're hard enough to find outside the inner north of Melbourne.

Since white Melburnians have similar political and cultural beliefs, and also prefer not to disagree with one another on issues that actually matter, the Portugese tarts versus conventional custard tarts becomes the frontline of debate. While the rest of Australia is debating Murdoch versus Fairfax or Labor versus Liberal or Big Australia versus Fortress Australia or the mining industry versus everyone else, white Melburnians are desperately trying to convince you that Portugese tarts are so much better (OMG!) than conventional custard tarts.

But when did this begin? When did white Melburnians begin to care so much about pastry? Some might say it started with celebrity chefs and reality TV, while others will tell you it all goes back to Melbourne's cafe boom in the nineties. Who knows? Maybe it all began right after the post-war Southern European migrants arrived?

But I think we have to go back much earlier when the first British settlers found the land around Port Phillip Bay a little too swampy and sought out drier pastures further up the Yarra. You can picture them wrinkling their sunburnt noses up at the local bush tucker and clinging to their wheat flour and eggs and other staples of Mesopotamian agriculture.

But maybe just maybe it goes back even further to the 1600s when the Portugese drifted off course and saw Western Australia but decided not to stay. Maybe they saw all that smoke from campsites and from firestick farming and thought, "Nah, let's fuck off, it's full." We are still living with that decision today.

Edinburgh Gardens

Forget about dating sites and dating apps, forget pubs and clubs and swimming upriver to mate. Just be like normal white Melburnians and have a picnic at Edinburgh gardens on a sunny Sunday afternoon. White Melburnians love Edinburgh Gardens because there's rarely a wrong type in sight. The last time a wrong type of white Melburnian was spotted in Edinburgh Gardens was in 1996, walking around on his hind legs as he farewelled his beloved Fitzroy Lions before they were subsumed by the Brisbane Bears.

Edinburgh Gardens isn't your average Melbourne park. Footy and cricket are just as common as hula hooping, bat tennis and even slacklining. Anyone new to Edinburgh Gardens will be struck by the variety of sports being played - each one more frivolous and mildly entertaining than the last. The worst part is having to take your rubbish with you because all the bins are overloaded with discarded bottles of Coopers Pale. There are also people strumming guitars and old timers breathing subtle sighs of relief when there are no renditions of Mr Jones.

Meanwhile, your average white Melburnian man at Edinburgh gardens will be quietly cursing himself for not chatting up that hot girl in the rainbow leggings or the tartan miniskirt or the loose white tshirt knotted at the waist while he was checking her out in the checkout at Piedimonte's because he told himself he'd do it when he saw her across the road at Edinburgh gardens. And that whole thing where he'll deliberately misjudge his catch attempt so the frisbee or some other projectile not readily associated with any well known ball sport lands just a little too close to a picnicking group with more females than males (which is pretty much every group in Edinburgh Gardens) because that's when he can make that all-important eye contact and mention how unfit he is:

Oops
I haven't thrown one of these
Since high school

Hey
Are they Portuguese tarts
I wish I could bake

Do you
Come here often

Raising an eyebrow, trying to act casual, maintaining eye contact longer than normal, worrying about the garlic content in the homus, saying 'let's just go to Moroccan soup bar and eat it in the park', forgetting to bring take away containers, not being able to find a pole to lock your bike too, noticing new apartments half finished, worrying about sweating, knowing the meanings of words you can't pronounce, making jokes about recently obsolete technology or how you never go out late anymore . . .

I like Edinburgh Gardens for the way it prevents Northcote from spreading into surrounding suburbs. It provides a buttress in the way the Great Dividing Range did against those early European explorers with fantasies of inland seas and Terra nullius. Just make sure to touch the grass before sitting down - sometimes it's wet.

Being mistaken for a local in New York City

Despite the existence of a New York State being the source of constant confusion for white Melburnians, their love for New York City continues unabated. However, the non-New York City parts of America hold little interest to Melbourne white people, with back-to-back Bush presidencies appearing to have neutralised the broad popularity of Kerouac's On the Road. In fact, the longest a white Melburnian has been known to tolerate a non-New York City part of the USA was a four hour layover at LAX in 2009. Even though the Aussie dollar is making a parody of parity by hitting $1.10 against the Greenback earlier this year, white Melburnians will only visit American places that are just like Fitzroy, only cooler. If North America was Chapel street, New York City would be the Windsor end.

In order to exchange your travel stories for cultural capital back home, you need to visit places that have the right balance between notoriety and obscurity. Telling people you went to Swaziland will mean nothing to most white Melburnians. On the other hand, saying you went to the Netherlands will only mean you get to listen to stories from people who were there five years before you. This is why being mistaken for a local in New York City is so important to Melbourne white people! This will be the one story they always tell. Long after they realise how naive it sounds to say 'New Yorkers talk just like they do in the movies'(!), the time they were mistaken for a local in New York City will be rehashed again and again.

But the problem of loving New York is that every other tourist also loves New York, sometimes just as much as you do! Right now your Mum is remembering her New York shopping trips to Macy's and Bloomingdale's - she even thinks these shops can't be found anywhere else. Meanwhile, your brother is in the midst of a Jay Z phase and is planning a trip to Times Square. Walking past RMIT at lunch, you just heard some First Years discussing their experiences in a Manhattan bagel shop and how the guy behind the counter was full looking at them. So how do you position your experience in New York as superior? Just follow the subtle tricks used by White Melburnians.

The first trick is to never mention how you thought New Yorkers would comment on your Australian accent. The streets of New York are awash with foreign accents, just like Melbourne. Aside from being mistaken for South African or British, there really isn't any difference having an Australian accent in New York as there is in Melbourne. Secondly, you should rave about the burritos and other Mexican food, but be careful to only frame the price as exotic. Thirdly, spend most of your time in Brooklyn.

The trip to Brooklyn is like a pilgrimage, but instead of paying respects to a God, white Melburnians go to worship trendier versions of themselves. Hedge your trip to Brooklyn against all of the fashion mistakes you have ever made and are yet to make. Think of the trip as a form of insurance, collateral or credentialing. Maybe you used to go to raves or have a Chinese character tattoo. Maybe you're worried that your current look will soon be out of date. The shame of these mistakes will be lessened if you have been to New York because New York never goes out of style. For example, the long beards that make white Melburnian men look like they're impersonating the Federal member for Leichhardt at the turn of the century and the short hair on white Melburnian women that is reminiscent of the 1993 year 12 class at De La Salle will eventually be subjected to devastating critique. Thus those soon-to-be embarrassing Facebook photos must be scattered amongst pics of house parties in Brooklyn. It used to be okay to make fun of out-of-date fashion even when you used to sport it yourself, but now online photo albums preserve your mistakes for eternity. Remember: cultural memory amongst white Melburnians goes back about five minutes, but Facebook is forever.

Smith street

White Melburnians don't like Smith street the way it is today but the past they long for never quite existed. For some reason though it's preferable to yearn for an imagined past than to enjoy the way things are right now. White Melburnians actually prefer some degree of gentrification than none at all. They would never admit this though as many of them lament the processes of gentrification even when they are the gentry. But would you prefer Smith street to return to its smack dealing heyday circa 1999 and get hassled by junkies every time you went there? No? Then you like gentrification!

But Smith street isn't completely gentrified yet because it still has plenty of boarded up shops, amateur graffiti and dive bars. It even has an empty lot overgrown with weeds! Yet this is balanced with an overabundance of salons, Japanese restaurants and Cavallero. Seriously, if you want to get your hair done and eat some udon there's no better place than Smith street. But it's a delicate balance so appreciate it now. One more salon or Japanese restaurant and it'll be a gentrified, sanitised, yuppie suburb with *gasp* late-thirties-women-in-expensive-jeans-pushing-strollers! They might even put-their-keys-and-smartphones-on-the-table-while-meeting-for-coffee! This is the white Melburnian version of hell. So enjoy Smith street today. You'll miss it when it's gone.

Postscript
I reckon Smith street is at the perfect level of gentrification right now so we have to appreciate it otherwise we will never progress as a culture. A culture can still thrive even when the stories it tells itself are retold over and over as long as these stories are adapted to the times in which they are told. So to avoid entering a Dark Age I suggest we recognise the cyclical processes of gentrification - neighbourhoods boom and bust over decades. There will always be a street like Smith street in Melbourne. It won't be exactly the same but this is okay because healthy cultures naturally change and evolve. While Smith street might end up like Acland street it won't matter because another street will rise to take its place. Even though Acland street still retains some gems and Carlisle street now has an appeal that wasn't around back in Acland's Golden Age. But white Melburnians usually do not lament the lack of affordable housing for the poor or the closure of local businesses that are typical consequences of gentrification - they're just pissed off their streets now lack the gritty charm they believe only the poor can provide. So we need a more inclusive way of talking about gentrification.

Complaining about the coffee in remote destinations

Whether you're in Coober Pedy, Tibet, Broken Hill or Bolivia, you will likely encounter a white Melburnian complaining about the coffee at a local cafe. Many claim to travel to experience foreign cultures but when the culture in question does not include expertise in espresso coffee (with Bonsoy) there will be outrage and contempt. Unwilling to accept cultural diversity when it comes to coffee, Melbourne white people want everywhere to be just like De Clieu. They refuse to imagine an alternative to drinking tiny portions of espresso coffee overwhelmed by warm milk and sugar out of disposable paper cups.

To white Melburnians, a lack of espresso coffee (with Bonsoy) remains the preferred indicator of a nation's poverty. Anything else, such as no clean water, high infant mortality rates, minimal public infrastructure spending, mass unemployment and political oppression will be accepted as givens (even exotic) and consumed as part of a search for difference. Melbourne white people will even expect coffee growing nations - some of the poorest countries on Earth, to have excellent (Italian) espresso coffee. It's sort of like expecting the nation of Ghana to be the world's main consumer of gourmet chocolate, when many Ghanians don't even get a full meal a day. But white Melburnians aren't the only ones who confuse the geographies of production with those of consumption, so why single them out? Because white Melburnians see coffee as necessary for life when in fact it's a luxury item. And because many of them are studying international development degrees.

Innovative fast food chains

Considering the fried onion only became a staple at Australian barbecues in the 21st century, you can understand the long and successful history fast food chains have enjoyed in this country. They were able to stand apart from the rest of the market by not carbonising the meat and serving condiments other than tomato sauce and tomato sauce. So ever since their takeover of airport lounges, highway off ramps, petrol stations, shopping centres, suburban thoroughfares, freeways, stadiums, schools and universities, it would be safe to assume the spread of fast food chains in our society has reached critical mass. But there is one place left for them to colonise: the graffitied laneways and cycle-friendly streets of white Melbourne.

A clustering of fast food chains can be observed at the borders of white Melbourne, like insurgents clamoring at the gates of the Green Zone. Bell Street Maccas, Pizza Hut and PizzaMaster on the corner of Smith and Victoria, the KFC on Chapel Street, Prahran. To move beyond their natural habitat (which is overrun by competing species) they've had to evolve. Innovative fast food chains are the most adaptive of their kind, characterised by a lack of drive-through, the addition of drinks and even alcohol served in very adult-like glass bottles, and semi-exotic condiments like aioli and guacamole. Their staff are allowed some flexibility in the choice of head wear instead of the standard issue cap, and they usually address all their male customers with the informal 'man' or 'dude'. Some of the stores come with literary references and apostrophes where none should exist, but their most appealing feature is a refreshing self-awareness that they're just fast food chains. Thanks to such innovations, Melbourne white people can now eat fast food without shame and in daylight hours.