MY FIRST DAY....

 
 That night I wept.  I openly wept, sitting  on my bed with my social worker daughter on the other end of the line.    Crying like the failure I was.  I used to own a business.  I once was an elected official.  I used to want to live.  Now….. I was going to start work wearing a green apron.  I have failed all that I could possible fail, including my dignity. 

      When I started with Noel at noon the next day I was given a coffee tasting guide—“my passport through the journey of coffee......”  My Barista Basics Learning Journal,  Some kind of Welcome packet filled with lots of information about benefits I could only hope to receive in the future—like the prized pony I had hope for as a child.

     I was given tiny little cards to give out.  Little cards to give to other partners that have made you feel “welcome”  or who were “considerate” to you.  I was appreciative of those cards—and excited that these were used…..it was a feeling that "you were at home among family"--in a corporation.

    In the book, “How Starbucks Saved My Life”,  I recalled how the nice manager in the story took the new employee by the hand and taught him  the difference between coffees like bold and blond.  And I was excited to become part of this cultured coffee world.  In this foray into connoisseur coffees,  I would become privileged and knowledgeable.  People would come to me with their questions that I would answer thoughtfully.  Understanding the differences between lattes and cappuccinos, between a machiatto and affogato style.  This would be mine.  I was excited to have arrived in this finely ground, dark roast, cup-by-cup world.  This caffeinated world,  complete with minimum wage (plus tips,) and vast knowledge of fair trade coffee.  I tied my green apron string in a bow in the front and pulled on my one-size-fits-all black cap to fit my small but starved-for knowledge- head, and marched up to the front of the store to start my journey.

     Noel lead me to the convection oven and promptly taught me how to heat sandwiches, how to  pull pastries out of the pasty case and clean the lobby.  I was taught “cadence”, which was how to brew coffee.  "Each of the four types of coffee gets brewed about every 10 minutes, she said.  That way every coffee is brewed about every half hour. Give or take….a few minutes...." She was shouting and I didn't know why.

      I was stunned and said nothing.  Like a deer in the headlight I bobbed and weaved to get out of peoples way in the tiny store.  This store did not have a drive thru.  So anyone wanting coffee had to come inside and shout their order over the grinders, blenders, convection oven and the ever-playing music of Adele.

     Noel's shouting was beginning to make sense.  Her normal voice was shouting. Her hellos to the customers sounded like a military command.  Her smile was fake and hard.  I soon came to discover that she hated her life as much as her job.  She never finished school, got knocked up young and then kept getting knocked up until she had a quadrant of offspring and a husband that worked at a local Publix.  Her anger scared me.  I assumed she could never be heard in her every day life, so she just yelled and yelled.  I used to be like that.  Therapy has helped me a great deal.

     I dreamed of the day when Noel and I would sit in the lobby together and sip the sample coffees together.  In my wondering, I imagined we sipped bold coffee and she taught me how to pair it with a pastry or, perhaps, a petite scone.  Following my training as a coffee connoisseur, I would write notes in my Coffee Passport giving descriptive comparisons such as bitter-sweet or mellow-chocolate.
     This never happened.

     Noel told me I was allowed a free beverage one half hour prior to work and another one for the half hour after work.  I took neither and typically hurried home to cry.

Here it is, Noel!!! The guide to teach me!