A Day In A Life Of A Barista
Itās Memorial Day weekend and itās finally starting to feel like summer and I couldnāt be happier about it. I love summer, I love the warm weather, going for swims, going to the beach, and all sorts of other activities. The only part of summer I absolutely hate is living so close to a vacation destination. During the year the traffic in my town isnāt that bad but once the warm weather hits the population triples. Now I wouldnāt mind that if the people were a little nicer but these vacationers are miserable, because they are usually wealthy and live in New York City. Working at a Starbucks on a main road between the two main highways is very difficult. Now the job of a barista isnāt hard within itself but it becomes difficult when my store isnāt equipped to handle the volume of people that come through on the weekends. I work at a Starbucks thats half the size of a normal Starbucks but does double the business. During the week itās not too bad but once Thursday and Friday hit I can see the slow progression of people tricking out to the Hamptons. Now Friday and Saturday are busy but manageable, Sundays on the other hand are pure chaos. Sunday is the day that every person that lives in the city goes back. Once the rich have had their fun filled weekend in the Hamptons they get back into their Jaguars, Porches, Mercedes, Lamborghini, and BMWās and had back to their Manhattan apartments. But on their way back into the city they decide to stop and get coffee first. Now I have no prejudice against anyone but some of these people that come through my store make it very hard for me not to hate rich people. Like these rich old ladies that are so used to just ordering people around and get whatever they want when they want. They demand their coffee immediately as if they are the only person in the store. ( Fun fact baristas to the people that tell me itās taking too long, I want you out of my store as much as you want to get out.) These people have no patience as if I called all these people into my store and am playing a trick like hehe you have to wait for you stupid nonfat latte. When Iām on bar and making drink after drink and you come over to me and ask me whats taking so long or āwhereās my chai latte?ā, my answer itās coming, itāll get made and youāll live. People just donāt have a concept of I can only use one espresso bar at a time and when you order twelve frappuccinos (all different ones) and six lattes yeah itās going to take a little bit. Or the worst of it is the little specifics, like 185 degrees and 6 splenda and a quarter pump of vanilla and 3 ristretto shots yeah itās going to take an extra minute to make. Now donāt get me wrong Starbucks is all about getting what you want and customizing your drink and thats fine but donāt yell at me when itās taking an extra thirty seconds because you want an old number of shots of a shot that only comes out in even numbers. But to the people that wait patiently and say thank you, I appreciate you and you are a rare breed. (side note: be nice to your barista you just might get decaf coffee if youāre not) I think people donāt realize that Iām moving as fast as I possible can without screwing up your drink. Now I can usually tell when a person has worked retail or not, they are the nice ones without any attitude and are overly nice. The people that treat me like I live and breathe coffee and Starbucks, like this is the only thing I do with my life, as if I donāt have feelings, family, and friends they are the ones that have never dealt with the public or retail. The worst part about my job when dealing with people like that is when they talk to me as if Iām stupid, but little do they know I have a college degree and have a second job working for a paper. Somedays I wish I could wear my degree around my neck and when I get spoken down to I can just shove it in their face and tell them to talk to me like a person, but regardless of wether I have a degree or not no one should ever be spoken to the way some of these people have spoken to me. The funny part is the reason most people speak down to me is because Iāve asked them to repeat themselves because behind me I have a timer going off, someone grinding coffee, a blender going, milk steaming, and someone calling out drinks, so my apologies I canāt hear you when youāre whispering your order to me as if your telling me a government sealed secret. These people are infuriating and I leave somedays holding back tears because when Iāve gotten yelled at and talked down to by every customer for eight and a half hours I canāt help but just cry because what else can I do. Iāve never cried at work and Iāve only come home crying twice and both times were during the summer. I oddly feel proud that Iāve only cried twice and maybe it seems babyish or weak but deal with the people I deal with and tell me how you feel afterwards. I love my job but I hate the customers. Ā Ā