Coffee & Kindness

People who have never worked at a coffee shop can't possibly understand all that goes on behind the scenes to get you your caffeinated bevy.  One of our regulars just started working at another coffee shop as a part-time gig while he's in grad school, and he confirmed these sentiments when after his first day, he entered our shop full of newfound awe and appreciation.

I'm a quick learner.  Slow people annoy me.  And I'm rarely not good at new things.  (And I'm really humble). That's why it was sooooo freaking hard for me to accept the learning curve I had to operate under when I first started working at the coffee shop. 

I messed up a lot of drinks.  I was moving at turtle-tempo.  And the endless lines of cranky customers made me want to crawl under the espresso machine and cry. 

Those first few weeks were a swirling blur of cups and faces, but there were two customers that made a great enough impression that I think about them from time to time, even now, months later.  

The first was a woman who ordered a cafe vanilla frappuccino, an item that somehow slipped through my beverage-training regime.  For the most part, the drinks are relatively intuitive once you get the system down, so I took a stab at it, actually made it correctly, but then called it out wrong: 'cafe vanilla-BEAN frappuccino!' And OH MY WORD - THE WORLD WAS GONNA END!  I'd screwed things up way worse than that (it was my first week, for goodness sake) and had gotten a lesser reaction.  So, I think that it was shock more than anything - but that was the closest I'd come to crying.  So, congratulations to customer-#1-that-I-will-remember-from-my-first-week. 

The second customer that I will always remember from week-1 is this guy, who in the midst of the longest line ever and a drink that I spilled all over him, made me stop. look him in the eyes. and hear that my worth as a human-being doesn't correlate with my ability to make coffee.  Have you ever felt like complete crap? Maybe when you were a little kid and you did something really bad and your parents were super-mad at you?  There were tears everywhere, but then the 'rents hugged you and said that they love you now and always.  That kind of grace is almost so good it hurts.  My day - my whole first week up through that point: just crappy.  And then that happened.  And I wanted to cry once again.  But in a good way!

I really love that quote by Plato: 'Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.'  Maybe both of those customers could tell that it was my first week (let's be honest...I was a mess).  Maybe both of those customers were going through their own crises, things that couldn't even compare to my relatively pathetic little foray into the world of beverage-preparation. 

How do I know?

But I did take something away from those two very different customer-interactions that I've applied to life both inside and outside of the coffee shop.  That 'be kind' mentality.  I'll admit that I'm not always that great at it.  I've got a pretty expressive face and I'm usually really upbeat, so I've been told that I don't always hide my emotions that well when someone hurts me.  But when new people start working at our shop, I always try to remember back to my first weeks as a barista and extend a little extra grace to them whenever possible.  

And more importantly, when customers come in that are real biz-nitches, I try (with incrementally-increasing success) to give them the benefit of the doubt and excuse their poor behavior as manifestations of battle-wounds from whatever 'hard battle' it is that they're fighting. 

Best,

Lise

Telling Secrets

So, people tell me things.  It's always kind of been the case.  Sometimes they're big secrets, sometimes minuscule tidbits of gossip.

Sometimes I have a bunch of secrets in my possession all at once and I just feel like I need to spew them or I'll explode.  Back in college, I came up with a solution to this: my roomie became my blabber-mouth-buddy.   People told her a lot of stuff too, and so it just kind of happened that people could assume that if I knew something, so did Nicole (and vice versa).  Don't get me wrong; there were exceptions to this rule -  if it was a real whopper of a secret, my lips were sealed.

Have you ever noticed that there's something about coffee shops that just simply begs for the telling-of-secrets?

I get to share a few moments of conversation at the bar with handfuls of random customers I've never met before, who are just passing through on their ways to whatever's next in their days, and who I will probably never see again.  In these moments while I'm finishing up their beverages, in an attempt to fill the awkward space and time between us, or perhaps because there's a primal need within all of us to tell someone, anyone, our 'stuff,' I get told things.  Often, things more personal and intimate than I, in my role as annonymous-beverage-preparer deserve.

Frederick Buechner, in his memoir that shares the same title as this blog post, writes that:

'What we hunger for perhaps more than anything else is to be known in our full humanness, and yet that is often just what we also fear more than anything else.  It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are. . . because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing.  It is important to tell our secrets too because it makes it easier. . . for other people to tell us a secret or two of their own. . .' (Frederick Buechner, Telling Secrets)

And it's not just customers that come in and share their little and not-so-little secrets.  It's the co-workers too.  You work with the same group of people a lot.  It's not overly-taxing work or anything, so there's a lot of opportunity for 'doing life' with your fellow baristas while making beverages.

I made the observation to a co-worker the other day that our shop is becoming a 'boys club.'  We've had a lot of recent turn-over and it just so happens that our guy:girl ratio has gotten ridiculously skewed (we're talking like 10:4 here).  So, I work with boys all day long, but I have a brother....and this theory that growing up with sisters makes guys better guys.  All I can say is, you'd be surprised at how many guys truly enjoy girl-talk once you get 'em started. 

I have a veritable menagerie of coffee shop secrets - people's fears, pains, hopes, embarrassments.  Once I started thinking about this and the fact that I'm trusted, in some small way, to be the holder of these precious things that live at the core of our humanness, I came away with a new appreciation for the people I come in contact with every day.  The fact that we all have these secrets binds me to even that a-hole who comes into the shop and rudely has us re-make his 'messed-up beverage' for free on a daily basis, which I'm convinced he never even purchased in the first place. 

And that's kind of cool.

Lise

Playlist

If I could make a playlist for the coffee shop:


1. 'Poison and Wine,' The Civil Wars
2. 'Follaton Wood,' Ben Howard
3. 'Dueling Ninjas,' Trace Bundy
4. 'This Woman's Work,' Greg Laswell
5. 'We Will Become Silhouettes,' The Postal Service
6. 'Get it Wrong, Get it Right,' Feist
7. 'The World Spins Madly On,' The Weepies
8. 'Heart of the Matter,' India Arie
9. 'Casimir Pulaski Day,' Sufjan Stevens
10. 'Motorcycle Driveby,' Third Eye Blind
11. 'Evelyn,' Gregory Alan Isakov
12. 'Rambling Man,' Laura Marling
13. 'Just Not Each Other,' William Fitzsimmons
14. 'Rise,' Eddie Vedder
15. 'Sodom, South Georgia,' Iron and Wine
16. 'You're Not Listening,' The Rescues
17. 'The Story,' Brandi Carlile
18. 'The Crane Wife 3,' The Decemberists'
19. 'Reasons to Love You,' Meiko

Coffee House Playlists

I definitely judge people based on their tastes in music.  You know when it's done right: the poetry of beautiful lyrics melding to the rhythms and melodies of instruments I so wish my parents had forced me to take lessons in as a child.  I just don't understand people who can be indifferent to good music, or worse still, people who actually enjoy country music.

I went to Hope College, a small liberal arts institution of the Reformed Church of America persuasion, nestled in the charming town of Holland, MI.  Remember Stars Hollow? That disgustingly cute, fictional town from Gilmore Girls?  Well, if you've never had the privilege of visiting Holland, MI: home of the Annual Tulip Time Festival, Captain Sundae, and 149 years of fine liberal arts education, then just think 'Stars Hollow' and you're on the right track.

Needless to say, the Holland, MI folk don't really take kindly to franchises where local can do it so much more endearingly, and let's face it, better.  No Starbucks or Caribou for us, sir!  If you want coffee in Holland, MI you have two options: JP's or Lemonjellos.  The two shops sell coffee, and that's about where the similarity ends.  Atmosphere, patronage, music, employees and artwork could not be more different.   As a student, I frequented both shops with regularity (some people were loyal JP-ists and others die-hard Lemonjellos fans, but I saw no problem with soaking up the unique coffeehouse-goodness each shop had to offer).

Where Lemonjellos had JP's beat, however, was definitely in the music scene.  If we were to draw some sort of line of demarcation, then Lemonjellos, I suppose, would be the more ostensible choice for the college students, while JP's would probably be the coffeehouse-of-choice for your typical Holland townie.  As such, Lemonjellos was way more into hopping on the fair trade-bubble tea-vegan pastry-pretentious music-train than it's counterpart, JP's.  Lemonjellos also doubled as a small concert-venue a few nights a week, bringing in some of the college's talent as well as other local and even a couple larger-name groups to perform.

Coffeehouses provide soundtracks for their patrons' meetings, study-sessions and first dates.  I work for one of the big, franchisey coffee conglomerates, not one of the local and full-of-character little guys like JP's or Lemonjellos.  We have this established set of music we play on repeat all day until the 'music specialists' down at corporate give us their next installment to slap on.  While it pains me to admit that some of the stuff they have us play is pretty darn acceptable, for a while there we were selling the Beatles Number 1 Hits compilation cd in our stores, and it was all-Beatles-all-the-time for like 3 straight weeks.  I don't care how great the Beatles are. Not okay.  (Oh, and I'm so looking forward to November 15th when the round-the-clock Christmas music begins..)

As someone who secretly strives to be one of those super-cool pretentious music snobs like Julie (friend from college, die-hard Lemonjello's fan, and associate editor at this super-cool blog [check out her stuff if you, like me, are interested in increasing your music-snobbery]) I really miss the non-contrived soundtracks of the local shops.  And how cool would it be if the big coffee shops started hosting open-mic night - just once a month or something?

Anyway, till next time,

Lise

(p.s. - maybe if you're lucky, I'll impart upon you my own 'coffee house playlist' next time).

My Mantra...For This Chapter

I don't do an amazing job at being present/content when I feel like I'm not where I want to be, doing what I want to be doing.  But that's silly.  

It's also definitely an entitled, pride thing.  I worked hard for four years in college (....on my parents' dime).  I 'gave a year of my life' to AmeriCorps (so we live below the poverty-line for a measly year and qualify for food stamps - big woop - some of my students from the organization I worked with during my term of service were supporting families of 5+ on the equivalent of my stipend). 

Nowadays, work with/serve coffee to/do life with a lot of beautiful, interesting people.  And while this may not be what I imagined my life would be like going on my second year post-college, this is where I am.  And until I am somewhere else: 

"Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness; touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis, all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.” 

-Frederick Buechner

Customer-Interactions: The Funny And The Creepy

When you work at a coffee shop (so I'm learning) you cross paths with some really interesting characters.

One of my co-workers has been moving his way up the ladder from barista to supervisor over the course of the past 3 years.  He usually supervises the closing shift, so we work together a lot.  Our regulars, the cool ones and those interesting ones too, get used to having us there at night.  And so an on-going rapport develops:

The guy that supervises the closing shift is one of those 'can't-really-tell-if-you're-being-a-sassy-jackass-but-it's-somehow-endearing-so-I'll-just-let-it-slide' types.  Every night before close, we have these two macho construction workers come into the shop to caffeinate before heading out to start their over-night shifts tearing up some part or another of 495.  For as long as I've worked there, and for who knows how long before that, their 'thing' has been giving my co-worker crap. Because he's an ass and it's funny.

A couple weeks ago, one of the macho construction workers was being unusually nice to my co-worker and he even invited him to his farm to shoot skeet or something...is that even a thing, or did I just make that up?  My co-worker gave the guy his number, but then after they left he turned to me with second thoughts, wondering if that was weird.  Meh. Whatevs.

The next night, my co-worker was all: 'I need to talk to you. Something happened last night after I locked up.  Remember those construction guys who always come in?  Well, the one who invited me to his farm was waiting for me by my motorcycle after I locked up.  He was being all nice and creepy and showing me pictures of his farm on his phone.  Do you think he invited me to his farm to kill me?'  I could tell that he was joking, but still freaked out.  Apparently there was an 'elbow-grab' during some part of their conversation the previous night.  He was all - 'maybe you could walk me to my motorcycle after close tonight..haha?' But kind of serious.

When the construction guys came in later for their nightly coffees, my co-worker high-tailed it to the back-room, having previously given me instructions to feel the situation out.  The guys and I were chatting while I was making their drinks, and the one asked me where my partner in crime was?  'Oh, just doing some dishes in the back,' I replied.  He turns to his friend and goes, 'I was totally effing with him last night!  It was hilarious.  I waited for him by his bike after he locked up and he was completely freaked out.  He's probably hiding from me.  Punk.'

Okay.  Funny-ish.  Boy-humor, maybe?  I don't get it?  But still, maybe not a bad idea to institute some sort of 'make sure everyone makes it safely into their cars after we get out of there at midnight' rule. Just in case.

Especially since this happened last week:

It was a slow night, and I was minding my own business working at the bar, while this other girl was on register.  All of a sudden, I was disrupted from my drink-making-zen-rhythm by:

'You're a vegetarian, aren't you?'

....confused...open-mouthed...blank stare...oh SHOOOOT, those espresso shots are expiring while I'm trying to figure out how this weirdo I've never seen before knows that I prefer meals of the non-animal-variety.

'I can tell because of your body-type.'

....Anddd there's my answer.  My body-type.  Of course.  It's only covered by my baggy collared shirt and this super-cool apron.  But, why not?

I quickly prepare dude-who-thinks-it's-appropriate-to-comment-on-his-barista's-body-type's beverage and hand it off, hoping to sneak away to the back ASAP.  Except for he decides to spark up a twenty-minute conversation (...slow night) that leads us on a scintillating journey from the three most recent items he's crossed off his bucket-list all the way over to Roth IRA's...?

It was realllllly weird.  And officially, my creepiest customer-intereation to date.

Anyways dudes, in case there was ever any shadow of a doubt, waiting for a male barista that you've known for years by his bike after close to 'mess with him': funny(ish).  Citing your female barista's body as a conversation-opener: creepy.

Till next time,

Lise

The Nighttime Regulars

So, I typically work the closing shift which has its pros and its cons:

Pro: I don't have to work with the psycho shift-supervisor who almost invariably works opening shifts.  This is reason enough for me to favor closing shifts, yo!
Con: My store stays open till 11:00 pm on weekdays and 11:30 (!!!) on Saturdays (...10:30 on Sundays), so I can't ever watch Vampire Diaries at its normal time. Eff.
Pro: I start work at 3:00.
Con: I can't sleep-in past 8:00 am. Ever. Nuts.
Pro: Most of the nighttime customers are stinkin' awesome!

I like my nighttime regulars a lot.  There's the guy who orders an average of 5 venti nonfat upside-down caramel macchiatos a night. Caffeine much?  There's the guy who orders a grande whole milk earl grey latte and talks to me for a few minutes as he adds the perfect combination of sweeteners and powders - a veritable chemistry lab.  There's the most adorable couple in the world who have found the secret to making their marriage work: nightly trips to their neighborhood coffee shop for a decaf solo macchiato, a tall latte, conversation, and adorableness.  There are the two 'platonic' besties who come in every night for coffee and work on their laptops, even though you can totally tell that this time spent next to each other 'working' and chatting it up is the highlight of their days.  There's that strange old couple who comes in with the most specific order of beverages and food items every.day. And as much as they're a tad frustrating, I love the predictable rhythm they bring to my night.  All of these people with their same orders night-in and night-out bring a steadiness that I find myself craving for my life on a grander scale these days.

I mentioned that I'm barista-ing while searching for other employment: my vocation, my 'calling' if you will.  Last year, I served as an AmeriCorps volunteer with an amazing non-profit organization.  I was given a ton of responsibility, I loved what I did, and it made me feel good and useful.  Since my term of service ended, I've rejoined the leagues of recent-college-grads in job hunt world.  Anyone who's searching for a job right now should be able to empathize with the feeling of a complete lack of control in this arena, just as I've experienced for the past several months now.  Every resume that I send out and get no response back from is another organization who, for some reason or another, I am not right (good enough) for.

I know that in this economy, it's incredibly difficult to find a job, and I am so thankful that I have the coffee shop because it pays the rent in the meantime, while giving me the flexibility to look for something that I truly want to do.  So many people don't have this luxury.

I'm also thankful for my lovely nighttime regulars who, through their steadiness and predictability, have leant me some of that stability that's currently missing from other areas of my life.

Anywho, till next time,

Lise