The Coffee Shop Theory

So...I'm a barista at a major coffee conglomerate (that shall remain nameless due to the repercussions felt by former-barista/creator of The Starbucks Rant Song, for giving the world an all-too-honest glimpse of everything that goes into getting you that 'doubletallnofoamfourpump140degreevanilla' mouthful of a beverage).

In any case, this blog isn't about ripping on my current employer or the patrons of my shop.  True, this stint as a barista that I currently find myself in the middle of wasn't exactly part of my life plan; but alas, I have rent to pay.

This blog is about life. Mine and the lives of all of those who walk through the doors of our shop: to caffeinate on their ways into work, during their lunch breaks, and again on their ways home; to awkwardly meet up with that guy from eharmony who was most definitely being generous when he wrote 5'7" on his profile; to just sit by themselves with a tall coffee at that same table every evening, contentedly taking in the social buzzing all around.

In the few short months that I've been serving you lattes, I've seen you, humanity, at your best and at your worst.  This has lead to the beginnings of something I'll just call 'The Coffee Shop Theory' (clever, I know...but pouring beverages all day isn't quite as intellectually stimulating as you might have guessed. Go figure).

The theory, which at present is in its simplest of forms but shall eventually grow to include sub-points, addendums, annotations, and the like, goes something like this:

1. There are always going to be three (plus or minus two) glorious, wonderful, kind, and good customers who will grace your shop with their presence during the course of your shift.   
1. These kind souls can be recognized initially by their eye-contact and smiles, but you know you've really found one of them because they see you as an actual person (who just happens to be pouring them their beverage).
1. It's just kind of nice, every once in a while, to feel that your worth as a human doesn't depend on your ability to make a cappuccino. 
2. They let you into their lives; you let them into yours. It's a beautiful thing.
2. For these several amazing customers you serve during your shift, you will undoubtedly have to endure the throngs of average patrons for whom we baristas hardly register at all (the lattes just come from the magical latte-fairies of Espresso Island. Duh.) 
1.  But it's like, whatevs. 
3. It's that final group that you have to worry about.  There's always one per shift (oh, and if you escape a shift without an encounter with your allotted due, then just wait till the next time you work - they're savin' em up for ya!) who will treat you like your the dumbest person alive, plus you just kicked his puppy.  
1. I've had a couple encounters with some real gems from this last category, but the tears have yet to officially spill over (knock on wood...)

I guess that this is how life is in general.  It just so happens that when you're serving hundreds of cups of coffee a day, the trends are a bit more noticeable.

Well dudes, this is the basic framework for my little Coffee Shop Theory.  Stay tuned for new insights, some shout-outs to those 'Category 1 Customers,' and some....the opposite of shout-outs (?) to those 'Category 3 Customers.'

Have a Grande. (vomit...did I just say that?)