5 days at the coffehouse

My new job, you know. And no, I’m not working at S’bucks or Starbutts or The Green Monster or any of those names I’ve heard The Other Place called. But that’s all I will say about where I’m working now. No names.

So some odd and ends of my first 5 days at — oh, let’s say, “Joe’s”:

— I decided to treat it as an acting exercise, really. Clearly, Day 1 was bad. I needed to readjust. To think of actually being there closes me up, humiliates me; but the character I play at Joe’s is open, happy to be there. She’s gregarious, willing to do anything, not easily vexed with the vexing. At least outwardly. Oh, and she’s taller than I — because the role requires it. These things are not me, but they are my character for Joe’s. Hey — it works for me. Anyway …. onward!

— one of the trainers, who admits she’s terrible at explaining things, is terrible at explaining things.

— a few people actually bring their own mugs for you to fill. One guy came in with what was basically a hubcap with a handle on it. When filled, it was a large frothy latte pond. I watched him with a sideways glance. I worried his face would fall in and he would drown, but he survived. AND he didn’t spill for which I was grateful.

— steaming milk takes finesse. I don’t have finesse. But I hope to get me some real soon.

— there are something like 100 drink combinations to learn. I simply ask, “Hey, how be I get you a good ol’ fashioned cuppa joe, there, Slappy?”

— but I only ask that in my head

— while I’m panicking about what they might REALLY want

— that I don’t know how to make yet

— but everyone seems to think I do

— because I made ONE good latte

— that only took me about 20 minutes.

— coffee drinkers are kind; coffee SNOBS are ruthless. Example: My 20-minute latte customer stood there at the counter, watching me and my pink-flushed face and incompetent bunglery, but I was smiling and joking and he was smiling and joking and I said, “Well, I’m new” (which is obvious, Tracey, really), and he said, so nicely, “Oh, that’s okay. You just keep smiling like that and everything seems fine to me.” He took his latte without complaint, tasted a sip, and said, “Good job.”

“Worth the wait?” I joked.

“Yep.” I could have kissed him.

Another day, I admitted my “newness” to some little chippie while I made her Chai Tea Latte. I said, “Lemme know if that’s okay for you.”

Clearly, she smelled blood in the water. She sipped in a pinchy lipped way, stared at me and said, “Um …. yeah …. it just tastes like water.” Which is interesting because there’s no water in it.

I offered to redo it and she agreed, of course. I asked one of the experienced baristas to make it so I could see what I did wrong.

He did exactly the same thing I did. She got exactly the same damn drink.

“How’s that?”

“Oh …. yeah. This is a LOT better,” she declared as she snobbed her way out the door.

— people try to scam free drinks. “You forgot to give me my iced tea,” one fellow whined to the barista. The scammer looked unkempt, jiggly-eyed, maybe homeless. He HAD been given his iced tea, but the barista went ahead and gave him his “free refill.”

Half hour later, he was back in line again. Only one free refill, pal.

— Then there was Lou, one of the “regulars.” And old guy with a lopsided, lumbering gait. He locked eyes with me and just started a’talkin’:

“There sure are a damn lot of people in the world,” he pronounced, trying to wind his way through the crowd.

I didn’t really know what to say, so I said, lamely, “Yeah. They’re everywhere!”

“I know!” he growled good-naturedly. He just seemed to be enjoying his rant, so I kept up with it.

“You can’t escape them!” I offered.

“I KNOW!” he cried. “I retired hopin’ to get away from all of ’em, but HERE THEY ARE!” He was shaking his head vigorously.

“I KNOW!” I agreed.

“Well …… be back tomorrow,” he said as he trudged off.

He just cracked me up.

All these people …. too damn many of ’em …. makin’ me CRAZY ….well, okay, see you tomorrow.

Just 5 days at Joe’s.