JUST Coffee - #6

DEAR ROW:
So as I’ve previously penned to you, I’m newly a barista. And I feel old. (Probably using the word ‘penned’ doesn’t help.) I can’t remember diddlysquat at my “I-don’t-wanna-practice-law-I wanna-be-a-playwright gig,” otherwise known as working up a funk at the coffee shop. Some things come quicker than others, but I guess that’s life, ain’t it? The owner ordered me to serve a customer, and even though he said PLEASE his tone made me want to quit; plus that PLEASE came with a pointed finger. 

Am I just sensitive, have a big ego, or feel like as a human being I shouldn’t be spoken to as if I’m three-fifths of one? I stand on the shoulders of my ancestors not beneath them, just saying. They fought for our freedom, not prolonged our oppression; and they never intended for me to get bossed around by a coffee shop overseer.

OR maybe it’s because I’m damn near thirty-one and feel as if I should not be ordered around like you would a negligent teenager. The customer will be attended to. He can wait thirty seconds for the other customer to put his flimsy recycled top on and mosey on out of the way. It’s JUST coffee. We’re not giving out emergency blood transfusions.

Maybe I’m the wrong person for the job, Row? I was just seeking something to give me some semblance of routine when I’m not interning or writing. But playwriting’s a lonely gig and you get used to the silence. The control. The calm. Working at this coffee shop is like being around other artists, on crack. Constant conversation. Constant over analyzing. Constant deep spiritual movements that are so constant they cannot be genuine. Like the same lady at church catching the Holy Ghost every Sunday. BUT I do need to be around other artists. Being a playwright is a double-edged sword...

The flip side: most of the other barista’s are gay. Some have even successfully macked on customers. (Did I just say ‘macked’?) Successful translating into the title of girlfriend-girlfriend. And many writers do camp out in coffee shops. I camp out in coffee shops. And I do feel among the transitioning. Many of my colleagues are experiencing the ‘in between’ like I am. New rule: you have to have at least one degree and working on or applying for your second degree to work at a coffee shop.

…I’ll try to humble myself, or mentally become an indentured servant, so I don’t irrationally quit the gig that is providing me with steady flows of dinero and structure. I hope you’re well, mi amiga!

Write me back,
Chanel
the decaffeinated barista

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DEAR CHANEL:

I mean let’s face it… you ARE old, but not in that “gimme my ginko biloba and St. John’s Wart pills...” to remember where you put your eyeglasses (duh- they're on your your head...), old. You’re old in that entry level and labor/task related jobs, aka the coffee shop, just aren’t the types of jobs you’re used to working, old.

I’ll even take it a step FURTHER and say, yes you may even be ABOVE it. Look, you went to law school, graduated (a feat in and of itself) and passed the bar on your first try… you’ve accomplished more before 30 than half the population will in their lifetimes. So yeah you forgot one PONC’s order on Monday that always comes in at 10 on the dot and you will never remember his absurdly quirky and distinct order… and that’s okay because what you actually need to remember is your below the neck worker bee gig does three things:

#1 earns you disposable income.
#2 gives your mind a reprieve from the intensity which is playwriting, letting your body do all the work for a change.
#3 exposes you to external/social stimulation because constant seclusion causes alcoholism, specifically in writers – it’s a historical fact.

In conclusion, fuck ‘em. This is why you’re at this job and who cares if people assume that you’re some loser who attempted another path in life and this coffee gig isn’t a choice it’s a consequence of necessity… you can’t worry about that. Just smile, serve ‘em a hot cup ‘o joe and get that dollar tip, girl! Think of it as research, you can always write these folks in as characters in your next story! Or you can write an authentic barista scene because you’re living it. Good writers write authentic experiences… use this as material to craft an authentic human interaction.

While you’re at it I’ll take a medium chai latte, 2%, extra hot… Thanks, kid. ;-)

--Row