The Case of the Stolen Bag

Man: "My bag was stolen. I left it on this chair when I went to pay for my drink and I came back and it was gone."
Barista: "Oh no, I'll call security."

3 security officers show up within minutes. The man begins questioning patrons and baristas to see if they saw anyone suspicious. He also tells the customers in line that his bag was stolen. Security apparently also called the police, who jumped on an excuse to come to a coffee shop because at least 2 cars showed up. Security tapes are pulled and checked. No one can figure out who took the bag. Police report filed.

Barista: "I'm so sorry your bag was stolen. Would a hot chocolate make you feel better?"
Man: "No thanks."

5 minutes later

Man: "So I started to get this nagging feeling, well a suspicion, that I didn't bring my bag up here. I went down to my car and sure enough there was my bag sitting on the backseat."

Wife: "We've been to so many Starbuckses (yes she said 'Starbuckses') It's hard to keep track of what we bring with us to each one."

You have got to be kidding me!

Sampling Queen

The holidays are upon us and tis the season to spread some cheer with free samples. That is if anyone will actually take the free samples.

Our store does a big push to sample out our holiday drinks in order to increase sales. The problem is that many people avoid a sampling barista like the plague. I really don't get it. Being a recent college grad, I still relish my campus days where I would seek out free things. The downtown business culture is a different breed that looks at samples as the enemy to their diet. Many times I would return to the counter with a full tray of samples, even if the store was hopping.

The sampler, or the "temptress," as one customer put it, is thought to be there to lure you away from your "healthy" sugar free non fat latte. I see it as an opportunity for you to satisfy your craving for holidays treats with a little bite sized treat. But alas, the holiday sampler must get ready to face a crowd of evil glances and people who will avoid eye contact with you as if you asking for a handout or trying to sell tham something.

NEWS FLASH!

I'm being forced to give you free stuff people! I'm not offended if you don't want one. I mean it's not like I baked the goods myself. But be gracious about it, don't make me feel like a jerk for trying to give you morsels of holiday goodness.

Last week I was forced into sampling out a pepperminty holiday drink. My delicious mini lattes were turned down by 20 people in a row and I was to the breaking point. I scanned the cafe for another sampling victim when I heard a voice from above.

"What you got there?"

I looked up to see none other than Scottie Pippen, former Chicago Bull, towering over me.

"It's a peppermint white mocha." Scottie Pippen! No way!

"Ahh let me have one of those!" I lift the tray up so he can grab one. "Thank you!"

It was nice to see someone be so appreciative of a free drink, let alone a former NBA great. Now I had some ammunition for my not-so-enthusiastic customers.

"Oh you don't want one of my samples? Yeah well what if I told you that Scottie Pippen just begged me for one of these babies a mere 5 minutes ago?"

Yes, that will get my samples flying off the tray like hot cakes.

Hats Off

Me: "I like your hat."
Customer: "Thanks."
Me: "I love hats."
Customer: "You like a man who wears his hat wit authority?"
Me: "Umm..."
Customer: "Cuz I always wear my hat wit authority. And, I speak my words with clarity."
Me: "I meant that I like to wear hats."

Thanksgiving Ass Kick!

Thanksgiving, a time to reflect on the things in your life that you are grateful for. Also, a time for thousands to flock to my coffee shop to quench their thirst with a cup o' joe.

You heard it...thousands of people...in a little under 3 hours. Our sales before noon rivaled that of a regular 6am-11pm business day.

How is this possible in a major city that becomes a ghost town come Sundays and major holidays? On the coldest day of the year thus far? When the hotel next door is only hosting 12 people?

Two words: Turkey Trot

A Turkey Trot is a 5k race that is held in cities all over the country. Runners are encouraged to come and burn of their Thanksgiving meal (before they even have a chance to smell it). The race happened to start and end across the street from my work and brought utter chaos to my little coffe shop.

Unbenounced to us, the race planners forgot to put bathrooms into their race configuration, making our single person bathroom the only public restroom in the area. At times the line to use the bathroom was longer than the line to buy a latte. Dozens crowded into our tiny little cafe to escape the bitter cold. Many didn't even order anything.

It was entertaining to see how thankful some were to see that we were open. Remember how I told you some people need their coffee to be productive? Well that dependency doesn't take a holiday, so neither can we baristas. Deep sighs of relief could be heard coming from the regular coffee drinkers at the back of the line as the sweet, comforting aroma of coffee slowly seeped into their nostrils.

Now I know many of you are DYING to know what I am thankful for this Thanksgiving. The truth is that I was thankful to be alive. Last Thanksgiving on my way home to eat dinner at my huge 30 person family gathering I was rear ended on the freeway. Next thing I knew, I was in the right lane facing backwards with a truck barreling down on me at 70 miles an hour. Still a year later, it is unclear to me how my car did not get hit by that truck. My car was hit a total of 3 times by 3 different cars, and only one car stopped to see if I was alright. I know that somebody was watching over me that day and a year later, I got goosebumps thinking about how the accident could have been much worse.

The memory of the accident was hard to escape that day. As I was restocking some essentials, my mind wandered back to the vision of that truck, and the feeling of fear and helplessness that came with it. My memory was interrupted by a customer at the register. "You know what I'm thankful for this year? I'm thankful that you guys are open and I don't have to go a day without my latte!"

I began to chuckle silently to myself because I realized I was also thankful that I wasn't that guy.

Behind Those Hazel Eyes

I first laid eyes on him during a normal afternoon rush. He ordered a tall decaf and followed his words with a soft awkward chuckle. He had an odd grin that was accompanied by eyes that constantly shifted from side to side, as if they were nervous to stay in one place for more than a fleeting moment. I would come to loathe those eyes.

Socially inept is the best way to describe him. He was the type of guy that was always trying too hard to fit in. Conversing with him was always an uncomfortable experience because of how his eyes grasped you and made you feel as though you were on display. His lack of social skills was apparent in his poorly timed and excessive laughter. He laughed as though his social acceptance depended on it. He even had a way of waving in a creepy manner. Every time he left the store he would make sure we saw him wave goodbye. He would place his right hand over his left shoulder and slowly roll his fingers as he walked away, leaving you with a lingering impression of his piercing eyes. Something was definitely off-putting and eerie about him, but we were never completely able to put our fingers on it, so we just brushed him off as another weird, yet harmless, coffee shop groupie.

We didn't know much about his life, but judging by the amount of time he spent in our little coffee shop, there wasn't much to it. We knew he was 23, and that he worked in a grocery store and as a wheel-chair pusher at the airport. Other than that, we only knew his life that existed inside the walls of our café.

He came in almost every night and busied himself for hours upon end by writing stories in his notebook. He always sat at the same table, in the same chair, watching, waiting for a moment to join in on a conversation. His eyes would dart between his notebook and any barista that approached the espresso machine. You could feel his eyes locked onto you, but he was always careful to look away when you handed off a drink. His sense of hearing was impeccable and he could overhear baristas' conversations from across the cafe and would chime in, especially if sports or movies were the topic of discussion. You could see his body shift any time a new customer approached the register, or baristas started talking. I always wondered just how much he overheard.

His notebook was an object of grandeur and mystery to many baristas in the downtown area. We would pass the time by imagining the types of stories he was writing. Some baristas thought he was simply jotting down what we talked about during our shifts. Knowing how perceptive his hearing was, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he did keep track of our conversations, as you always got the feeling that he was listening intently.

If you asked him what he was writing about, he would usually tell you he was writing a story about a losing football team that wound up winning the Superbowl. His depictions were usually fictitious accounts of current sporting events. But I wasn’t satisfied with his story summaries. I felt that there was more in that notebook than he was letting on. Getting my hands on that notebook would be the only way to know for sure.

He sat right next to one of our garbage cans, so whoever took out the trash was inevitably forced to have an awkward encounter with him. To be completely honest, even though he gave off a weird vibe, I still couldn’t help but pity him and his seemingly lonely existence. So, whenever I had to change the trash I would chat with him about the latest movie he saw and his job at the airport (for which he was given employee of the month honors). Also, talking to him gave me the opportunity to scan whatever page of his notebook he had opened. I never really saw anything on the pages to confirm my suspicions, but I just knew there had to be something else in that notebook. I know how invasive I must sound, but honestly I felt the need to find something in that notebook that would prove once and for all that he was a creep.

We did know for certain that he wrote one thing other than sports stories, he wrote rap songs. On Valentine’s Day he wrote a rap song and gave it to each of the female baristas. Once, I took a summer off from being a barista to pursue an internship, and when I returned I received my own customized rap song welcoming me back to the store. I hung it on my fridge for awhile because it provided me with a great conversation starter. [The letter is currently packed away somewhere so I have to recall it from memory, but when I find it I will be sure to post the song up word for word.] My all time favorite quote from the whole song was the last line, “like they said to that Kotter guy, welcome back.”

We had a restroom in our store that we kept locked. In order to use the bathroom, you had to ask us for a key. Sometimes when he went to the bathroom we would dare people to go look in his notebook. I think once I got about halfway to his table before guilt and fear made me turn back. He would use our bathroom for long periods of time, sometimes returning with beads of sweat dripping down his face. One of our male baristas would always joke about what he did in the bathroom, (I won’t say because I don’t want to be too vulgar), but anytime he mentioned it the rest of us squirmed because of the disgusting metal pictures we had to block from our minds. In a million years, I wouldn’t have thought it to be true, until one of our managers found porn in the bathroom. We never doubted for a second that it was him.

When I transferred to the store that I currently work at, I found that he was a frequent patron there as well. I swapped stories about him with my new coworkers and found that they were also baffled by his odd behavior. Slowly, over the course of this past summer, his behavior started to become weirder, as if that were possible.

One day he came up to the counter and ordered tea. My artsy female coworker asked him what he was writing about. He told her he was writing a story about baristas…naked baristas. I knew it! He then asked her if she slept in the nude. Now, up until this moment, he had never made a sexual comment to any barista, so it was quite shocking to hear this, but also rewarding because we finally had an incident to pinpoint why he was a creep.

I remember the last time I saw those eyes. It was a Sunday night and everyone had come in to do inventory. He was there, in his usual spot, and you could tell that he was thrilled by the commotion of having all of the baristas in the store at one time. He was showing all of us his new cell phone, the first one he’s ever owned. I was teamed up with a male barista and we were in charge of counting items in the area of the store that he was sitting in. I would count the items and my coworker would write them. I called out a number to my partner, no response. I looked and saw that he was behind the counter whispering to one of our supervisors. She came over and pulled me into the back room. The seriousness in her face scared me, as she is probably one of the most free spirited and easy going people I have ever worked with. I knew something was wrong.

“He took a picture of you with his camera phone. He took it while you were bending over counting the teas. He...he just hid it under his arm and snapped the photo. Your counting buddy saw him do it. Do you want me to talk to him?”

"Yes."

She discretely went and told him that it was against the store’s policy to take pictures in the store and that he needed to put his phone away, and that he should delete any pictures he may have taken with it.

Violated. Embarrassed. Angry. These words best describe how I felt in that moment. I know that I didn’t bring the incident on myself, but I felt degraded and humiliated thinking about it, especially because all of my coworkers were there and were all bound to find out.

After inventory, we decided to go grab a bite to eat, so three of us waited outside for others to finish. He came out of the store and walked right by us, but none of us dared to give him the time of day. He walked into the doorway that led to other businesses in our building. My supervisor ran out of our store and followed him through that doorway. She came back a minute later and explained herself.

"I didn’t feel like I had stood up for you enough earlier. So I went and told him that if myself or anyone else sees him with his phone out in our store again that we will ask him to leave and never come back. I’m so sorry I didn’t do it sooner.” She walked back inside and as we were discussing the incident he appeared through the doors.

Silence. My coworker tried to cover up the fact that we were talking about him by going on some hilarious rant about espresso. He walked over to us and paused for an uncomfortable 10 seconds before speaking. I refused to look at him.

“I’m sorry. (Awkward chortle) I mean...I’m…I’m…ah…really sorry guys.”

I feared that I would have to be the one to address him, but my coworker saved me.

“Don’t ever let it happen again.”

“I…I won’t.” His look of relief disappeared when none of us responded. “I really am sorry.”

I knew he was directing his apologies at me and I could feel his eyes locked onto me, but I kept my eyes focused on my coworkers. I could see him out of the corner of my eyes, but I REFUSED to let those eyes lock onto mine. It was a matter of survival for me. I was Harry Potter and he was the basilisk snake who could kill me with one look. I wasn't going to accept his apology. He didn't deserve it. The four of us stood there in silence for a full minute until he walked away. It’s been 3 months and he hasn’t showed his face in our store since.

I feel like a coward for not standing up for myself, but I am grateful to my coworkers who took action when I was rendered helpless. I had many things I wished that I would have said to him, but I couldn’t face those eyes. I thought back to how many times those eyes had been cast at me and other female baristas, and I finally realized what it was about those eyes that had perturbed me; they were a window to all of the inappropriate and devious thoughts that churned in his mind.

Who does that?

A few days ago there were two big concerts going on right by my store. Concerts are always going in any of the numerous theaters within walking distance of my work and many of the artists stay at the hotel next door. My store was giving away free song downloads as part of a promotion. It just so happened that one of the two artists who were in town was being featured as our song of the day and the other was the featured artist from the previous day. This happened by pure coincidence and led to a couple of rather interesting events.

One of the artists is a very famous and very successful British pop star. You could say she walks on broken glass from time to time. Several of her crazy British band mates came in over the course of the day. Her drummer was probably the most entertaining of the bunch. I asked him what he would like to drink and he responded in a very cheery manner, "One soy caramel latte, please."

"Would you like some caramel drizzle on your latte?" I asked, while being extra cautious to not accidentally slip into my fake British accent.

"Oh heavens no! That would be too naughty for me!"

Silence. I paused and did the first thing that came to my head. I laughed. I couldn't help it, the British accent and the cheeky disposition extracted a loud, ab shaping laughter from deep within my soul.

"What's this? Why are you laughing?"

Oh no! I had offended him! Quick save...quick save! I searched for a brilliant cover up, but all I could come up with was, "Nothing...it's just...you're...you're funny!"

He smiled, "Me? Funny?" Shew! Good save.

The cashier asked him if he would like a free song download card for the artist he worked with and he laughed, "Alright then."

"Will you do me a favor?" I asked. "Will you just go and give her that for me. I mean we've been laughing about this all morning and...I just think it'd be funny if you gave it to her."

"Oh she would LOVE this. I am definitely giving this to her. This is going to be fantastic." He walked around to the bar and continued to chat with me. (I was really digging the accent.) "So you think I'm funny? I'm really not that funny. You must have caught me on one of my more humorous days."

"Naughty latte? Seriously... do you know how funny that is? You haven't even had caffeine yet. I think you might just actually be funny. " We continued to chat while I made his drink. I handed him his "un-naughty" latte. (I guess you could call it a well behaved latte?) He walked through the glass doors and turned to flash me a huge smile, and shook his head before congregating with his band mates outside.

2 hours later...

Our store was completely empty and I was running the register (or reg as I like to call it). A young man and woman walked in. As they were ordering their drinks, I noticed them looking at the song download cards, so I told them they could take one. I saw a smile form beneath the woman's hat. That's when it hit me...she was the other artist whose song we were featuring.

It was Brandi Carlile in the flesh.

AWKWARD TURTLE!

Now, I had been joking all morning about how funny it would be if either of the musicians came into the store. I envisioned a witty transaction in which I addressed the hilarity of the situation: "Ok," I would say, "Can we just talk about how awkward it is that I just offered you a free song download of yourself? Who does that?"

Instead all I could muster up was, "So are you doing anything fun downtown today?" It was the question I always used to start up a conversation with customers when it is slow. I ended up chatting with the guy about their hometown and how my cousin is in a band out there. (Turns out he may have gone to school with one of their guitarists.) But I still feel as though I made a total idiot out of myself.

I bet she went back to her band and had a good laugh about how a barista offered her a free song download of herself and never realized it was her. Well I did know! I love her music and was on standby to be on the guest list of her sold out show. But I guess it would make a pretty good story if she ever gets interviewed by Conan O'Brien...

No I will not make out with you!

This entry was inspired by an article featured on the front page of The Onion:

Sources: Barista Not Actually Flirting With You

SAN FRANCISCO—Though she greets you every morning with a smile, sometimes chats with you, and makes sure the chocolate syrup is evenly...

http://www.theonion.com/content/news_briefs/sources_barista_not

Certain people make me extremely thankful for the counter that divides us.

I can't speak about being a barista without mentioning the fact that there are certain people who misinterpret our friendliness. I smile, I joke, I laugh, I converse... I also survive off of tips.

Now, I'm not saying that I fake my demeanor just to make some extra cash. I am a talkative and energetic person by nature. It's just that when I'm working behind the counter I step up my game a little. Being behind the counter can feel a bit like being on stage. There are always eyes on you, waiting, watching to see what you'll do next. The customers can hear you conversing with your fellow baristas, and if you perfect your inflection and timing, you become a regular comedy routine.

Let's face it, work would be really boring if I didn't joke with my customers. It would also make things a little awkward. It's like, "Umm, hi. I 've been making you a latte everyday for the last several months, but I'm just going to act like I've never seen you before." Great customer service focuses on making your patrons feel invited and welcome when they come to your establishment. Recognizing your customers makes them want to come back again and again. Also it might make them feel inclined to throw a buck in the tip jar.

Sometimes working behind the counter can feel more like being on display...

My store is dominated by female baristas and we have to deal with unwanted advances. It takes skill to balance being friendly with being flirtatious. Sometimes, no matter how careful you are, somebody is going to misinterpret your actions. Baristas have to be good at drawing boundaries.

We have a few cabbies that come in every night. One cabbie likes to flirt with the girls and ask them out. One night he told a fellow barista that he loved her. The following night she overheard him whispering to a friend in his language and saw them point to me. She called him out on it and he turned bright red and told her that he loved me. On one unusually slow night he came in and I was balancing a broom for fun. I asked him what he would give me if I could walk across the store while balancing a broom on one finger. He responded, "something that you've never had before." (AWKWARD!) Another night he came in and started asking me what I did in my free time. He started hinting at what a hard worker he was and how he would be a good provider. He started to tell me how beautiful I looked with my glasses on. Then he asked what I knew he was hinting at, "So do you have a boyfriend?"

Enter the pseudo boyfriend. Any single girl should always have a made up boyfriend so that you can get out of awkward situations like the one mentioned above. I always use my best guy friend because it is easier to talk about a person that exists. That way when you get advances at work you can politely decline by telling them you have a boyfriend. Some may call me a liar and scoff at the way I handle these situations, but it is the best solution I have come up with. I only use it to decline men who constantly come in and hit on me at work. It gets them off my case and makes them realize that I am not interested.

The pseudo boyfriend came in really handy when I had to deal with Dean, the 70 year old mentally challenged man who came in to our store everyday and wrote me letters. He wrote letters to all of the girls at one point or another. The letters were fine. They merely asked me how I was doing and told me what a beautiful person I was. He would write about his family and then tell me to say hi to my mom and dad, whom he had never met. Sometimes Dean would ask if it would be ok to take me out sometime. Once I told him that I had a boyfriend, he told me to tell him that he was really lucky to have such a beautiful girlfriend. The letters continued, but he never asked me out again. He did buy me a glow in the dark keychain with my name on it.

So, time for the moral of the story. Your barista may remember your drink every day. He/She may remember that you like extra caramel sauce, or an extra shot of vanilla in your coffee. We might even remember your difficult drink to a tee. Heck, we might even remember some obscure random fact that you told us a month ago. That doesn't mean that we want to go out with you. It means that we are good at our job.

I would like to thank The Onion for shedding some absurd light onto this matter.

Eau de coffee

Students have homework, teachers grade papers, lawyers read statements and documents, but baristas take their work home in another form...smell...and it follows them everywhere they go.

After working a shift at the coffee shop, the smell lingers on your clothes, encompasses the strands of your hair, and even seeps into your pores. Sometimes I literally feel like I sweat beads of coffee. I am pretty self-conscious about this smell, especially if I know I will be going out after work. Changing out of my work clothes doesn't get rid of the smell, I have to shower or brave the world covered in a cloud of coffee. I usually apologize to my friends if I meet up with them straight after work. I find some solstice in acknowledging the fact that I smell like coffee. They would usually tell me that they couldn't really smell it unless they got close and sniffed my hair. This made me feel better.

My last semester of college, I began working the morning shift before class. This was a true test to my will power because it required me to sit in a room of a hundred people while coated in a film of coffee. I had finally accepted the fact that I probably noticed the smell more than the people around me.

I was wrong.

I was chatting with my friends before class as people were filtering in around us. A guy who usually sat by us came in and started to unpack his things. He then paused, to a big sniff, turned to us and disgustingly said, "GEEZ WHO HAD COFFEE FOR BREAKFAST TODAY?!" I should have been mortified by the fact that currently, I was a human glade plug in, emitting the smell of coffee unto the entire lecture hall. Instead, I looked at him, apologized, and started laughing as I explained to him that I had just come from work.

And then I've had the complete opposite reaction happen.

I had to leave work one day and go straight to the dentist's office because of an awful tooth infection. When I got in the chair, the dentist and the hygienist crinkled their noses.
"You smell like coffee."
"Ya I just came from work," I muttered. I was ready for them to ask me to leave for smelling of coffee.
"Do you work in a coffee shop?" they asked.
"Yeah..."
When I confirmed their suspicious, they started fawning over me like two cats who just discovered a bag of catnip.
"We LOVE coffee."
"I drink a latte every day.
"You smell so good."
Needless to say having two strange women smelling me was a pretty awkward experience. I felt that they were getting a caffeine buzz from the mere smell of coffee that was soaked into my clothes. I remained stuck in that dental chair for forty minutes with my mouth clamped open as the two of them discussed how necessary coffee is to their existence. I desperately hoped their caffeine buzz would wear off so I could relax, but I think my eau de coffee kept them kicking.

So I guess it's a lose-lose situation. Either someone will complain that I reek of coffee, or I will get attacked by coffee enthusiasts. Maybe I'll ask my manager to invest in a shower for our employee bathroom, or suffer the consequences by paying for me to seek counseling for the emotional distress I have faced over this matter.

I think I will start bottling the smell of coffee and sell it as a perfume. Then non-baristas could bask in the scent of their favorite latte. I can see it now:
"Good morning."
"Hi, can I get a chai tea latte?"
"Certainly, for only 29 cents more, would you also like me to mist you with a chai infused perfume?"
Hey I might be on to something here.

Until next time...thanks a latte!

Much Ado About Foam

Foam. It's the one little word that has plagued me during my existence as a barista.

In order to make a latte, you must steam milk. You can make the milk pretty foamy by barely pulling the steam wand out of the steaming milk. This is called aerating and it must be done at least once when heating the milk. In order to make a cappuccino, you would aerate the milk for a longer period of time. The only difference between a latte and a cappuccino is the amount of foam. On the foam spectrum, cappuccinos are more foamy,while lattes are mostly milk, topped with an inch of foam. Some people are very particular about the amount of foam on their drink and it can be quite frustrating at times.

Almost every latte will have some foam. It's inevitable, because you have to put some air into the milk when steaming it. People will come in and order a latte with no foam and will literally watch and make sure I get every single last bubble off the top of their drink. When someone scrutinizes your actions for a bubble of foam, you wonder what that person must be like in social situations. Are they a person who micromanages everything everyone does? Or do they just feel a sense of power when they smell coffee? Foam is pretty much an area of personal preference. Unlike syrups or whipped cream, foam doesn't add any calories to your drink. It's just airy milk, yet some people really don't like the inch of foam we put on top.

The WORST combo you can ask for, in my opinion, is an extra hot no foam drink. When the milk gets steamed we have to aerate it at least once, but when we make it extra hot we have to aerate it a little more. Even if you don't aerate the drink, the milk will naturally become foamy once it hits the extra hot temperature of 180 degrees. I don't think people who order this combo understand what a pain it is to make. Half the time I have to let the milk sit for a minute and tap the pitcher with my spoon so that the foam can all rise to the top. It is so wasteful because I have to use more milk than needed.

Also, we use foam as a barrier because it prevents the drink from spilling out of the little hole in the lid. So technically, customers should thank me for preventing them from burning their hand as they carry their coffee back to the office. I consider the extra hot no foam combo to be lethal. Think about it...you ask me to heat your drink to a temperature so hot that the milk goes bad, and you ask me to take off the protective layer. I guess some people are risk takers, I just hope they takes risks outside the realm of their espresso drink.

I have had to remake many drinks because of foam. Usually it's because some one's cappuccino isn't light enough.When it comes to foam, there is so much variation. So, if a customer is really particular about how they want their drink to be, you could make it several times before you please them. I think about all of the drinks I've had to remake because of foam and it makes me angry, especially when I imagine the amount of drinks dumped out on a national scale.I hate being wasteful. There are starving people in the world and I have to waste milk to please people who have enough disposable income to spend $5 a day on coffee.

I've seen some people get really angry at baristas because they have too much or too little foam. I just have to laugh at the people that get so worked up over coffee. With all of the bad things that go on in the world, should you really let a little bit of foamy milk ruin your day? And if you do, I think you might have some deeper, unresolved issues that you should tend to.

Don't bite the hand that caffeinates you...

Coffee shops can get pretty busy in the morning. Sometimes this requires a barista to become sassy and suave in order to effectively get people in and out in a quick, and efficient fashion. Working at the espresso bar during a morning rush can be dangerous territory, but I have learned a few tricks to help keep things running. Also, there are a few things that you can do to help Lady Latte and the other baristas out when waiting for your drink.

I used to work in a coffee shop that serviced an entire skyscraper full of business executives, or "suits" as I like to call them. A "suit" is a person who works the classic 8-5 shift and who will do anything to get a break away from the desk that they spend most of their day chained to. A suit is a type of person who will wait in line for 20 minutes just for a cup of coffee, because it is probably more fun than the monotonous routine of their job. A suit usually comes down at the same time every weekday. A suit will sometimes conduct a majority of their business in our coffee shop. A suit can also be one of the most impatient breeds I've ever encountered, and boy are they hard to tame...

Our line would be out the door every weekday from 7-10 am. When you have this many suits in a concentrated time period, the coffee shop can manifest itself into a chaotic stampede of impatient and half asleep animals, ready to attack. When a suit has waited in line for 20 minutes, they are extra ornery. [Note: I don't blame some one for being upset at waiting so long for a cup of joe, but seriously, it's not my fault that Tammie Target decided to round up the whole floor before venturing down for some coffee.] Therefore, working at the espresso bar can be hazardous, especially when handing off drinks. Placing a drink on the hand off station is the equivalent to holding a piece of meat up to a pack of wild dogs. The suits begin to salivate and jump in anticipation at the mere sight of a cup.

Calling out the drink order over the sounds of weekend plans, business meeting agendas and office gossip, is a daunting task, and sometimes only the strongest and most adept baristas can survive. Upon calling out the drink, several suits will usually step forward to claim the prey. The suits don't listen to what the barista calls out, they move because instinct has told them that it is their turn to drink, even if the cup size I hand out isn't the same as what they ordered.
For instance, I would call out "medium white chocolate mocha."
A suit would grab the drink and block all others from approaching. "Tall latte?" it asks.
I respond a little louder, "Medium white chocolate mocha."
Again, "tall latte?"
"Medium white chocolate mocha."
The suits now cocks its head looks confused, "tall latte?"
"No...MEDIUM. WHITE. CHOCOLATE. MOCHA!"
Another suit finally turns away from its coworker and emerges from the pack to claim its white chocolate mocha. Success! (Kind of...)

In other instances a suit may not be trained enough to remember what they ordered in the amount of time it takes to pay and then pick up their drink and they might just grab any cup that sits on the bar for a minimal amount of time. When this happens, a suit who has been waiting awhile and has noticed that people who ordered after it are long gone, will say that they never got their drink. Many times you will ask them what they ordered, and you will remember making and handing off that drink. The funny thing is, that when some one takes a wrong drink, you only know because it is missed by the person who ordered it. Rarely, does someone come back and admit to taking the wrong drink. Or, even better, someone will come back and demand that their drink was made wrong, when the marking on the cup isn't even the drink they ordered. When this happens, it is best to apologize and offer to remake the drink, rather than question the suit's integrity, especially in front of other suits.

So, here's how you can survive the morning frenzy:
1) Try to remember what you ordered.
2) If you need to order a drink for a friend or coworker, write it down if it helps you remember.
3) If there is a cup sitting unclaimed on the hand of station, just ask the barista what it is. They should be happy to recall it rather than have to make another because someone took the wrong thing.
4) Pay attention to the barista when they call out drinks. Many times I have had to scream the drink name in order to get someone to snap out of a conversation.
5) If you have been waiting awhile for your drink, and others behind you have left, tell your barista. Chances are someone took your drink, or we could have forgotten to mark the cup. A good barista will make your drink a priority when the mistake is realized.
6) Try to be patient and polite with the barista if a mistake does occur. We are human, and we deserve to be treated as such, even when we make a mistake.

In turn, I promise to speak loudly and clearly and make sure everyone gets their coffee in a timely fashion.

I'm glad we had this talk.

The people from the other side of the tracks

Sometimes we serve the crazies and sometimes we serve the rich and famous (or the crazies with money).

On Tuesday I had back to back to back celebrities in my store.

There was a big convention across the street with about 10 big musical acts. The artists were kept a secret, but being a barista, I eventually found someone willing to tell me who was playing. Our store and the hotel next door were crawling with celebrities. Let me tell you about my 5 minutes that were saturated with celebrity sightings.

First, man came in who was obviously a rock star, with his long hair and tattoos. I made him his cappuccino and sent him on his way. I didn't know who he was, but after he left the shop, people were freaking out. He was lead singer of Slayer.

Less than 2 minutes later a familiar looking, very attractive man came in. I didn't find out until later that he was a member of the band Collective Soul. As I was handing him his 3 shots of espresso, I looked over his shoulder and saw our 3 new rookie NBA players walk by outside. He walks away and I hear a customer ask how to get to Target. I look over and see one of the winners of America's Next Top Model. She ordered chai tea and as she was waiting she checked out the basketball players who were speaking with fans outside the hotel. She didn't know who they were. I filled her in on their names and told her a little bit about them. Because I shared some info with her I got up the courage to ask her if she was indeed America's Next Top Model. She confirmed my suspicions and we chatted for a minute before she left to seek out the basketball players.

Maybe next week I'll open the newspaper to page six and see the model and the athlete looking cozy as they walk out of some LA restaurant. On second thought, I don't know if I even care to investigate. (Ok maybe I care a little.)

Did that just happen?

My coffee shop opens early (6am early) on weekdays and weekends. I have to be there at 5:30am. I had the privilege of opening this past Saturday. Weekday mornings bring in most of our regular customers from the offices and businesses in the area. Weekends are a different story.

Saturday and Sunday bring us a variety of characters. The crazies as I like to call them. I know it must sound mean, but that is honestly the most accurate way to describe them. There is something a little off about them, but they are usually respectful and thankful. The crazies are usually homeless and enjoy a smoke or two from the comfort of our patio. Sometimes one crazy will go and sit at a table with another crazy. I like to imagine that it is the start of a great friendship. The type of endearing friendships that you find in movies. I imagine the conversations they are having and what type of adventure they will set out on once they leave our little patio to explore the world, or at least the downtown area.

This past Saturday, however, one crazy crossed the line.

She looked like your usual robust middle aged woman. The kind that likes to get up early and go for walks. She came up to the counter and asked for a glass of water.

[I should interject here and mention the we started giving out small water cups because we kept running out of iced cups for our customers iced lattes and have been getting complaints about the small free water we hand out.]

Most crazies are thankful for any amount of water and it breaks my heart that I can't give them a big cup. This lady however, was not so thankful. This is where I stop calling her a crazy, because a crazy wouldn't do what this lady did. She asked for a lot of ice in her cup, to which my coworker complied, but when she saw the size of the cup she demanded a larger glass. When she was told that this was the glass we used for water she threw the cup at my coworker. All he could say was "Really?" and then "next" to help our regular customer behind her. She proceeded to use some obscenities and then yelled, "Bye Nazis, bye Jew, bye Muslim (to the customer behind her in line who was wearing a hi jab), bye Satan worshipers, bye demons..." She trailed off as the door shut behind her. My coworker handled it so well. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. I then promptly called our neighboring store to warn them that she might come to their shop next.

It is my coworkers last week before he heads back to school, and in 10 years off working in a coffee shop, I don't think he's ever had any drink thrown at him. I think it's safe to say that he's ready to leave.

The audacity of some people.


PS: Remember in my previous post how I mentioned that tips sometimes get stolen? Well it had never actually happened at a store I worked at. I had only heard about it from other baristas. But my store actually had tips stolen from them yesterday. Luckily it was only $5. The man just reached his hand in the jar, grabbed a fistful of money and walked out. My coworker witnessed the whole thing and he knew she was watching him. He held a conversation with her as he did it.

The Science of Tipping

Baristas survive on tips. Luckily I work at a coffee shop that manages to bring in pretty good tips each week. I have worked at a coffee shop that had the highest customer volume in the area, yet managed to bring in the lowest tip averages. Many people I encounter outside of work often ask me how to know when to tip your barista. One friend in particular said that many times when he goes into a coffee shop the tip jar is nearly empty so he doesn't know if it is normal to tip. At my store we take out the money as it piles up because we don't want it to get STOLEN. Yes this does happen from time to time.

Generally, if you're just coming in to get coffee there is no need to tip. My personal opinion is that you should tip if you add some modifications, order many drinks at once, or if you are a regular (esp. if your barista has your drink memorized and it's ready when you walk in the door).

Many people seem to get confused about the little plastic box that sits next to the register. Mainly people thought of it as a take-a-penny/leave-a-penny jar, only it's filled with every coin imaginable and the occasional dollar bill. When a customer asked one of my fellow baristas if the tip jar was a take-a-penny/leave-a-penny jar the barista responded, "No. It's leave a penny. Period."

I got so fed up at the lack of tips at my former store that I constantly tried to think of creative ways to earn more tips. I was moved to act after a customer asked me what charity the money in the jar went to. "My bank account" and "Feed my Starving Baristas" were the responses that popped into my head. To clear up confusion, I wrote tips in plain letters on the jar, but was later scolded for soliciting tips. Hey, I was merely trying to let people know where the money went.

Many people deem it unnecessary to tip your barista. Let me ask you this then: When you go out to get a drink at the bar do you tip your bartender? Of course you do. So let me get this straight.... you tip your bartender (which you should) who provides you with a drink that makes your thoughts fuzzy and causes you to lose control of you actions. BUT...you won't tip your barista who provides you with a drink that clears your head and cause an increase in productivity? Think about it.

There are people who tell me they can't function without their coffee. Their drink of choice becomes ingrained into their daily routine. Which means when they are sitting up in their office, they come to a point where they can't stop thinking about their drink and they must have it before they continue working. This is part of the reason that people have morning and afternoon drinks. I used to solely work nights at my old store and knew many of the regulars drinks by heart. When I switched to mornings and saw the same customers I would make their drink once I saw them waiting in line. I was so proud to have it done and ready for them, but several times I was presented with the same response: "Oh, but that's my afternoon drink." Slap in the face.

My point is that if something is so necessary to your daily routine, why can't you pay an extra quarter or so for it? And yes, that extra change you have left over does make a difference, even if it is 10 cents or so. At one point the managers at my old store (the high volume one with dismal tips) did some math and figured out that if every customer gave us a quarter per drink ordered, our tips would quadruple. Ok so let's do some more math here. Say you order a drink that costs $4.00 (which a lot of people do). The standard tipping rate these days is 20% which would mean that you should tip 80 cents. All I'm asking for is 25 cents which is less than a third of what you should tip. Now when you go up to the bar and order a drink you probably lay down an extra dollar bill per drink, as you should. But shouldn't baristas get the same respect? Do you ever walk up to the bartender and order your drink like this: "Ummm ya, so I would like a medium 3 shots vodka, 2 pumps grenadine, half the sprite, 7 ice cubes vodka collins with 3 cherries." Ummm no. Your bartender would probably go "Are you kidding me?" But you come into my work everyday an expect that type of exactness without ever putting down a tip even though I smile and chat with you as I make it. Again I say, think about it.

There is a positive side to tipping. I have had people tip us merely to use our bathroom. I will also let you know that our best tippers aren't the rich businessmen, it's the bartenders at the bar across the street and the waitresses that work next door. It's the service industry people who know what it's like to serve people. I've got some great stories about the kindness I've seen from some customers and I hope to share them in the future. But now it's off to work for me.

Thanks for reading.

Introduction

Warning: The contents of this cup are hot and the stories you are about to read are real.

You may find yourself yawning at the thought of reading a blog about a coffee shop, but you would be surprised at the characters you meet working in a coffee shop in the heart of a major downtown area.

I am a barista. What is a barista you may ask? Wikipedia defines me as, "one who has acquired some level of expertise in the preparation of espresso-based coffee drinks." I would like to expand this definition to include the following:

"one who has acquired some level of expertise in the preparation of espresso-based coffee drinks and utilizes the necessary talents of barista survival (including but not limited to: entertaining, life counseling, direction giving, weather forecasting, mind reading, pant stapling, selecting the biggest slice of coffee cake, and turning dollar bills into quarters) while wearing a smile and making sure you wash your hands."

I could probably add a hundred more talents to that list but i will keep it at that for now. My future posts will go into further detail on how I manage to utilize these talents on an almost daily basis.

I am a drug dealer, but my drug just happens to be legal. I have had people walk right up to the counter, roll up their sleeves and point to their arm asking, "can you just inject my coffee here." Others merely ask for their fix and extend a shaky hand grasping a form of payment. Once they receive their drink of choice they let out a sigh of relief and cradle it as if it were their own child or small dog. I have customers who come in 3-4 times a day, customers with morning drinks and afternoon drinks, and customers who cry when their favorite seasonal flavor runs out.

I should stop right here and say that I love my coffee and it's ok to love coffee or to not love coffee. I need caffeine to get me going most days. I also enjoy being a barista for the most part. The job has helped me fund my way through college and meet some pretty interesting people. I have met some of the rudest and most inconsiderate people on the planet, and some of the sweetest and most down to earth people as well. I have served rock stars, movie stars and pro athletes, college students and professors, police officers, criminals, business executives, cab drivers, bartenders, drunk people, high people, kids, dogs, and the homeless. Coffee enthusiasts provide me with some great writing material. I'm not the only one that is amused by my customers' quirks or shocked by their audacity. Sometimes after work I go out and grab an adult beverage with some of my fellow baristas. Once we start swapping work stories it is hard to get us to stop. Each story gets crazier than the next in an all out battle of one-uppers. It's nice to share these stories with people that get where you're coming from and understand service industry etiquette.

I may work in a coffee shop, but I'm sure similar incidents have happened to servers, valets and bartenders alike. I hope my fellow service industry workers can relate to some of these tales and find them amusing. And if you haven't ever worked behind a counter, I suggest you take some lessons from my experiences and realize the right and wrong ways to treat those who serve. It's amazing what some people consider to be socially acceptable.