with extra, extra caramel (oh my mistake, KARmul) "Ventay, with extra whoopcream."
Ugh,
that order. The likes of it get me everytime. The last time someone ordered that from me personally, I felt like someone'd
punched me in the stomach. I'm going on 4 years of this, part-time,
since I started college. And the funny thing is, I finished and I'm
still here, which happens, I've noticed. Herein follow the confessions
of a Starbucks Barista.
I feel safe at my store, I'm good at my job now, and I love the
people. My coworkers, are amazing and ever-changing, and there are
benefits; it's social, interactive, and exciting. The hours go by
decently fast, it's on-your-feet and active, and you get lots of free
caffeine. Which I love.
But I don't know. There's the sense that you're smart
but you're stuck. There's the realization that your job is actually
decently hard and requires intelligence, but then the reminder that it
could be worse and you know it. Plus it has more prestige than
McDonalds.
And after months of mulling this over I feel
like I've walked the circumference of a complacent circle and find
myself tired. And then I go to work where I am refreshed by the sense
that I like my coworkers and a "let's do this!" oomph runs through as
soon as I've taken a doppio. But sooner or later, it happens. Someone
orders a Venti Caramel Frappuccino with extra, extra Karmul and extra
whoopcream, or a passionfruit iced tea with lemonade and raspberry and
I'm reminded again that most people are idiots.
Sunday, June 24th.
