Moths & Baristas
And not necessarily in that order.**********
In thinking what I could do with myself these days, I've been reflecting on my last non-mommy job. I was a Barista once. I pretty much enjoyed myself working the espresso bar in a bookstore cafe. As is the usual case, I still hold the memories of several silly little stories from day-to-day work life.
The Lesbian
I was minding my own business (as usual), and a girl walked up to the counter. "I'd like a tall mocha." So, I commence with the makings of a tall mocha. The mandatory question, "Would you like whip cream on that?" They girl doesn't reply, so I turn to her thinking I should repeat the question. Alas, she is waiting for me to look at her. She winks exaggeratedly and replies, "I love LOTS of whip cream, sweety." Oh man. I place the tall mocha with extra whip cream in front of her, and she slips five bucks into my tip jar. Hmm, five dollar tip on a three dollar drink. With another wink she walks towards the door with a, "I'll be seeing you soon." Now, was I hit on, or was that just my imagination?
The Bad Day Guy
You get all kinds of coffee fiends first thing in the morning. There are those who stand there twitching until they drink their first coffee, and there are those who begin twitching right after they drink their first coffee. I always loved those who stood there being assholes until their first coffee. I felt powerful. I knew that I had a drug in which they couldn't function properly without. Mwahahah. One guy in particular was throwing Teretts inspired phrases at me bright and early in the morning, so I was being rather slow and methodical. I finally served him his coffee, and he took one sip and threw it at me, "This is shit!". Threw it at me. Coffee drenched apron, coffee splashed face. He turned on his heel and squealed the word "shit" again in a high pitched voice on his way out the door. I'm guessing he was having a bad day.
The Irate Mom
Closing time and there is a couple with two small children (still up at eleven o'clock) walking towards me. The mom orders two hot chocolates for the kids. Fine. Thirty seconds after I hand the drinks over, she storms back up to the counter and slams one of them down spilling it's contents across my register. "This hot chocolate just burned my daughter's tongue! I demand a refund!" Ok. "Ma'am, I'm sorry your kid's tongue is burned, but I don't actually make them scalding hot or anything." -- "I will SUE! I will sue YOU, and I will sue this COMPANY!" -- Ok. "Ma'am, will the refund you demanded suffice?" -- "Fine, but I'm going to find someone and tell them you should be fired. You can't just go around burning innocent children's tongues." Yes, that must be my lot in life. Burning innocent children's tongues. Thank you for giving my life meaning.
That story is why they put "Caution contents may be hot" on the cup. Also, I would dare say that is why they call it hot chocolate.
The Heimlich Maneuver
Yes, being a Barista even requires one to be able to give emergency medical attention to a fellow employee. This older man, who worked the bookstore side, and I would go next door to the Mexican restaurant each week. One sunny day, we were eating our lunches outside. All of the sudden he started banging the table. I looked over at him in alarm, and he was some unnatural color. He made no noise. He wasn't even gasping. He started to stand up as he was pointing frantically at his throat. Ok. So, I jumped up, got around behind him, put my hands together, and gave a good whack into his breadbasket. (Umm, I'd seen that on TV once?) He immediately started vomiting. Which, in turn, dislodged whatever it was. He started crying and hugging me. "You saved my life! You saved my life!" So, he began to make it his mission to tell this to everyone who would listen. He started following me around like a puppy. Actually, he gave me a puppy for my birthday. It got creepy. One day long after I'd quit that job, I got an e-mail from him asking if it would be okay for him to publish a poem on poetry.com that might have my name in it. Ok. I'm thinking a nice poem about a girl who saved his life once. No, apparently, when you save someone's life it turns them on.
Ahh, those were the days.
I think I'll leave being a Barista to my fond memories.
**********
I will preface this by saying that before I met my husband I was involved in, well, a few self detrimental relationships to say the least. I was just reading a fellow blogger's post tonight, and I was in awe of her infatuation with the all-too-familiar unattainable and unrewarding relationship.
Questions of the day:
Why is it that we are so drawn to the relationships that which can only lead to our own emotional demises?
Why is it that moths are drawn to a flame?
