The Starbucks I'm a regular at is very different than any of the stores I ever called Work.
Of course, it's hard to maintain frame of reference, when it's been years since I last worked at Starbucks.
And even Years since I first worked there.
I think that Starbucks was solely responsible for my love life in my mid twenties.
So thank you.
And also.
Fuck off.
(Respectively).
The life of a barista is a rich blend of elite snobbery toward both the customers (we're not above handing you decaf) and the inferior baristas (those who knew how to make TRUE cappuccino foam and those who attempted comically) along with the rare kindreds who would let you wash the dishes in the back when you were on the verge of pouring vanilla syrup on a customers head.
There were cliques within a Store Team, much like any work place environment, but exaggerated greatly since the majority of baristas aged 19-27.
(Which made it the ideal job for a bubbly single college student. Would you like my phone number with that Americano?)
Alas, my days donning the green apron have long gone.
Though I do rejoice that whipped cream no longer lingers in my hair and caramel drizzle doesn't stay cemented on my beige corduroys, there was a sort of intimacy among my peers I do occasionally long for.
(Though the incestuousness of said intimacy often led to store transfers. Stores I've worked: Five. And counting).
But I digress.
The store where I satisfy my white mocha craving now doesn't have the warm, fuzzy vibe I recall in my glory days. (They didn't call me Sparkles, for nothing).
There are several friendly faces and the manager sure is swell.
But as a whole, it's not a place where everybody knows your name.
One barista is convinced my name is Grace.
The confusion happened one groggy morning when forced with the daunting task of giving my name before I'd had my morning coffee (OhmyGODIcanbarelykeepmyeyesopen). I gave a slight shrug in agreement with her mistaken certainty that my name was Grace, right?
It seemed lightyears easier to just agree with the oversight than muster the energy to correct her and as I sipped my liquid crack exiting the cafe I'd no idea it would start a lie that haunts me to this day.
Hi Grace, are you getting your Americano?
What was I supposed to do?
After about four times I felt like there's NO WAY I can admit my name's not Grace NOW!
Yeah, umm, actually.
Uuhh.
I'm sorry, my name's not Grace.
Oh.
It's not?
Then why have you acted like it was for the past few MONTHS??!
Yeah.
I'm a bitch.
My coffee name is Grace.
I may have to legally change it.
Or at least change the name on my Gold Card.
There's one barista whose the iciest of ice queens.
And not in a badass Elsa way.
She would not Let it Go if the townspeople wouldn't leave her castle when the party was over.
But really.
Who would?
(Bitch. This party be over like your mustard colored frock. Like, move over to Prince Charming's soiree already).
Seriously.
This girl is like Repsac the unfriendliest ghost.
(That's Casper backwards. In case you were wondering).
She never smiles.
She never pretends to care how my day is going.
(The obligatory interest in the daily occurrences of each customer is covered in the cost of my Five Dollar Mocha, thank you).
We don't like her.
But this past week I went in as per usual to feed my addiction and she waited at the register to greet me with the kind of excitement one would expect from a mute whose date was deaf.
And then.
It happened.
I love your shirt, the energy draining back into her face.
I stared down at the 'Sheldon is my Boyfriend' printed across my chest.
Right? I love The Big Bang Theory!
Most of the guys I date tend to be a lot like Sheldon, she proudly told me.
And in that moment I knew.
The Ice Queen's heart had melted, a moment.
And all over a shared appreciation for a skinny narcissistic genius who prefers video games over boobs.
This girl and I are gonna be like sisters.
One of these days, just wait.
Though.
Her sister's name is gonna have to be Grace.
This may be more complicated than I thought.
Maybe I should just switch to Dutch Bros.
#coffeeproblems
