strike that

i know the difference between a latte and a breve

I know how much the chai is going to expand when it gets steamed, and when to pull the shots so they’ll be full just when the milk is ready, and I know that an Americano is a really stupid drink.

And some of you are reading this and smiling, and some of you are reading this and thinking, Oh, dear God, what has become of Jenn?

So just to clarify, I fucking love being a barista. It’s not something I want to do forever, but I’m downright buoyant about it right now. It is this whole new thing I never knew how to do before, and I’m big on New. And it gives me a particular feeling - a feeling similar to when I first framed a door and first made jam – that I have learned something real and visible and useful.

People almost always leave Celia’s felling better than when they came in. They want a drink they enjoy, or they want someone to ask how they are. They are cold or tired or working hard. And for a few minutes, I dwell on them completely. They are the center of my little barista world. I smile and I listen and I make something special, something exactly as it is asked for. It is maybe the only time this happens to them all day. And I am good at this. Because I like people, and I particularly like people who aren’t comfortable around people. Uncomfortable people are my specialty.

Uncomfortable people make most other people uncomfortable, but they put me instantly at ease. It is the most natural thing in the world for me to lean over a counter at some punk rock / programmer / physicist type and say Do you want nutmeg? And what kind of name is Hagen? And then they feel at ease, which they are not used to. And then I hand them a steamy delicious beverage of their choosing to take away. And it makes them happy.

So once a week for eight hours, I make people happy. I get to wear my kneesocks and my tattoo and my half-laced boots, and I get to talk about James Bond and Iraq and Will Shortz, and I get to meet a dozen people every hour whom I never knew before. I get to hear about little pieces of their worlds, and admire their hats, and validate their tastes. Once a week for eight hours I get to nourish my own socially awkward impulse to enter the lives of total strangers, in a context that makes them feel cared for and cool.

And I still have big plans, honest. Plans about urban design and environmental justice and Better Living Through Chemistry. And I sure as hell hope someone hires me to get moving on this sometime soon.

In the mean time, I make coffee.

posted by tortaluga @ 10:43 PM