After a morning of making countless $1 Pumpkin Spice Lattes, you might think that I wouldn't want to spend my afternoon writing about it. HOWEVER, I drank a PSL myself and have that caffeine and sugar coursing through my veins and sparking inspiration all up in my heart and soul.
I came home and finally looked up this 20/20 story my mom has been telling me about, about baristas and the horrible things they do to people's drinks. I found it fascinating. I can relate to these bitter baristas. In fact, just yesterday I had a moment of understanding as I realized the reason we get so frustrated with customers and they get so frustrated with us is that we are not speaking the same language.
The language we speak is that of well-trained and experienced baristas. We know where these coffees come from, the altitude at which they are grown, the anatomy of a coffee plant, the names of the farmers who grow it, how the coffees are processed, what each step in the process entails, and what each step means for how that coffee will ultimately taste when we brew it, not to mention what all the variables are in the brewing process and how they affect the taste of the coffee.
The language our customers speak, on the other hand, is often (not always, but often) a twisted mess of coffee terms made popular by places from McDonald's to Starbucks to Intelligentsia. They often know only that they need something to wake them up, or that they like caramel frappes, or that they hate coffee and want a coffee drink that doesn't taste like coffee.
The biggest challenge of our jobs as baristas is to pick through and translate the layers of this language in order to discern the unique palates of our many customers so that we can find the right drink for them--all in the most fast-paced, efficient, and pleasant way possible.
In general, baristas are grossly underpaid and undervalued for these intricate skills. This only causes more bitterness and frustration as they attempt to read their customers minds, create personalized, handcrafted beverages, and navigate the crowds of zombie-like people dying for their daily caffeine fix on their way to work and school--all before 8 am.
In the 20/20 interview, the baristas spoke of decaffeinating rude people's coffee, or adding extra charges to their drinks. I understand the desire to do these things--it's extremely tempting sometimes! As anyone who has ever worked in customer service will tell you, people can be downright nasty. It can be very disheartening, especially for those of us with the determined Anne Frank-attitude to see the good in humanity.
Thankfully, there are plenty of really wonderful people we encounter every day too! These wonderful souls of grace who very clearly recognize us not as machines but as humans like themselves, are often what get us through the seemingly never-ending days.
I actually started writing a coffee shop musical back in college, based on my experiences. It was a sad little story line, but this video beautifully portrays (*minus the bit of vulgarity*) the plight of the modern barista, set to a familiar musical:
What stuck out to me most was their question "When will I be redeemed?"
Well, here's what I've learned: they have already been redeemed. We all have. It's a matter of accepting the sacrifice that paid our way out of this "hell" we're living.
We can't always change our situation (especially in this economy) and land our dream jobs right out of college (or even four years out of college), and in the meantime, we have to pay rent somehow. We can't change how people act towards us, but we can change how we act toward them. Instead of being the pretentious coffee know-it-alls we are stereotyped to be, we can adopt a servant's heart.
We can serve coffee with genuine joy and love. We can be kind even to the rudest customers (you never know what horrible experiences someone might be going through!). We can swallow our own opinions of what makes a good coffee and instead maintain the attitude that everyone has different tastes.
I have worked in coffee for 6 years, which is 4 more than I ever anticipated (trust me, I never anticipated being in management, but here I am). As a whole, I have loved my experiences. I love the people that I've met, the skills and knowledge that I've gained, the free coffee I've been allowed to drink, and even the work itself. It's fun! Some days I look around in gratitude and shake my head in wonder thinking, "They actually pay me to do this!"
Other days though, I shake my head thinking, "There is not enough money in the world. . ." I find myself struggling through the daily grind to be happy and nice to people when I just want to sit in a corner and be angry and frustrated. I get so tired (the kind of tired that is beyond caffeine's reach) of being outgoing (I'm an extreme introvert) on a daily basis and being up for hours before the sun. It's these days that make me ask the question: what am I even doing here?
What I have come to understand through it all, is that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. In all my vain attempts to get out, I still sought God's will for my life. My ultimate goal, after all, is not a successful career, but holiness. God gave me glimpses of what may lay ahead, and with those glimpses, reminders that as much as I want to be, I am not ready for the next step.
Even though I have days where I curse the ground I work on (by the way, we actually call the ground we work on the IBG, because we believe our bar was built on an Indian burial ground), and want to cry at the sad state of humanity, and then I spill brown mocha powder all over my black pants, I believe it is all part of the process. It is part of growing up, yes, but most importantly, a part of being humbled, of dying to myself.
If we are to be redeemed, we must first die to ourselves, so that we may rise again with Christ:
And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. [Luke 9: 23-24)
The particular slow and painful death God has chosen for me just happens to be death by mocha.
I still fail and fall frequently, but I am reminded over and over again of His redeeming love, mercy, and faithfulness. I encourage you, wherever you are, to accept your form of "death" as the grace to participate in the fullness of your redemption. It's all we can do, really.
But in the meantime, we'll do some of this too:
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| Shelby's Last Latte |
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