Day 365 (b)--Ode to working at Starbucks (the green apron society)

It's job hunting time again which comes with the usual conversation of, "What's been your favorite job?". Without hesitation I loved working at Starbucks on campus for 4 years.  I miss my stolen pastries split with co-workers, I miss the smell of freshly ground coffee (though everyone hated doing the grinding because it gets coffee dust all over your hands), I miss getting every single major holiday off including summer and winter break, and most of all I miss my peeps in the green apron society.

Starbucks attracts the sort of worker who comes in hungover from too many jager shots the night before, is loud, sarcastic, and makes you laugh all 8 hours of the shift, then goes home to get high, work on a painting, do some homework, and ends the night with some beer pong on the kitchen the table. 

Everyone is on their way to somewhere else, so there is this sort of temporary insanity and friendship.  And you are a team.

Yes of course there are people you like working with vs others, but when shit is busy you need to function as a team.  You need trust that the person taking the order is asking all of the right questions, you need to trust that the person ringing up is doing it quickly, you need to trust that Bar 2 is putting in the right amount of pumps and has the milk ready and has the frappuccino already in the blender, and you need to trust that Bar 1 is going to put in the correct fresh shots and top each drink perfectly with whipped cream or crosshatching or the right amount of foam.  You are a team.  That one drink requires all players and whether or not you like your team, nonetheless you are a team when it counts.

And I believe in Starbucks products.  Ok yes, $4 is a lot of a simple drink, but please take into account that the coffee beans are grown in ethical working conditions, they come from all over the world, espresso is only good for 13-17 seconds before it's mixed into milk, and let me tell you, (1) a Cappuccino is a damn work of art to get milk that light and foamy, (2) a Frappuccino takes a ton of steps and wrist actions of measuring, pumping, blending, pouring, and topping, and (3) Carmel Macchiatos need vanilla pumps, the right amount of foamy milk to make the shots float, eyeballing the right about of milk and foam so the shots don't overflow, fresh shots, and a crosshatch of caramel.

And the funny thing is, most baristas do care.  We actually do care that you like your drink.  We might not give a shit about you most of the time, but we do want you to have an nice day with something we created in your hands.

I miss my baristas.  I miss us bunch of baristas/ artists, and dancers, and the pre-meds, and actresses, and writers, and the photographers, and the budding anthropologists, and architects, and chefs, and business travelers, and M.A.-seekers, and those who were lost for now because being lost at a coffee shop ain't so bad.  I miss bitching with them about how the fucked up it is that we have to throw out perfect good milk in the carafes, and why it's bullshit that tea has to shaken exactly 10 times, why shift leads are often awesome because they're our age and bust their ass just like us (but usually avoid mop duty) but store managers are often crazy awesome or fucking weird, and how no one should ever order a green tea frappuccino because they taste awful and making them is a nightmare.

Starbucks is by no means the perfect job, and yes there is plenty to bitch about.  And it's certainty not a job you want to work at forever because stocking sugar packets your whole life isn't the big goal.  But for a moment (or a few years in your twenties) Starbucks is family. 

Because when it comes down to it, Starbucks is a cool place to work because Starbucks is a cool place to be.  It's a place to relax, or meet up, or wake up, to escape from stress, or organize a project, or go on a date or wait for a date, or simple be somewhere kinda cozy.  Maybe all of the branding rubbed off on me, but I do find that holding a Starbucks latte in hand makes my problems seem less important and a little better, and yeah actually, a routine coffee shop is kinda that "3rd place" in your life between home and work.  Well, it was mine at least.  And the truth of the matter is, most of my co-workers and I spent more collective time at our Starbucks than most apartments we lived in. 

It was not a place to work forever, but it is a place to remember.  And I'm remembering it tonight.  I miss you guys, my comrades in the green apron society.  And I hope you're doing well in your adventures.  I know some of you, like me, have had a trickier year with jobs so let's just take a collective shot and cheers to new things to come.

And for the record, what kind of crazy shit do I deal with by working front desk at a hotel?  Well, there was the guy who set the trash can on fire, the police raid in the parking lot, the holy-lady who wanted to leave the hotel around 1am to kill some "witches" who are dating her cousins, the one-legged homeless lady in the sparkly pink bandana who wouldn't leave the property, the other homeless lady Doris who comes in every other week insisting that she owns the hotel and Jesus is her business partner, and other misfits, crazies, and escorts with their politicians.

And granted there are some really nice people like genuinely excited tourists, or family reunions, or weddings, or girls nights out.  And I do like working the bar talking to the travelers and business people.  But the general hotel culture aka my co-workers suck.

There is absolutely no loyalty with people who are going nowhere and hate you for trying to move up.  No one has each other's backs, gossip is rampant, my schedule is NEVER consistent, and for being in the vacation business they hate when their workers take vacation. Um?  Really?  That's like working at a smoke shop and getting yelled at for taking a smoke break.  And for the record, I was more or less threatened with my job today because I'm going on a week-long family vacation and someone else was kind enough to pay for my tickets. Yeah, I'm looking for a new job.

So for now what can I do but write and dream, hope to get hired in something in communications, work on my copywriter portfolio, try to launch a budding online literary magazine, and walk down the street to the beach for my the weekly farmer's market with the smells of sage and strawberries, tri-tip and dreadlocks, fresh eggs and guitars, dogs, peaches, cut-off short shorts, and fresh pesto.  And a Starbucks for the walk home.