In Seach Of The Barista In Me

Leo. There are about 200 things you didn't get a chance to finish during the work week, so you're still trying to cram it all into the scenery. Pause. Something worthwhile will catch up to you.

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Uh huh.

There are many things that I did not get accomplished at work that still needs to be done. I intend on going in on Sunday, but hope to first visit the MN Zen Center before tackling a big pile of steaming crap at the office. Can you maintain Zen while working on a Sunday? Hm. I guess I will find out.

I have been so very preoccupied with my occupation lately. Today I did a search on Google that I hoped would inspire me to consider the greeting card business with even more seriousness than I already do. I have a tendency to be a little flip with my friends (I know all of you that know me are shocked to hear that), and I have dropped clues about my intention to create greeting cards for a living. Naturally no one really takes me seriously because I am always saying crazy stuff like that. But it's true. Really. I have a mixed media greeting card vision. It all up here (pointing to my own head).

I failed to mention on my dream job list the other day that I wouldn't mind being a barista for any given caffeine joint. I did it briefly during the Seattle years. I was also a pre-school teacher at one point, but that is (yet) another story. The barista days were very satisfactory for me. When you make coffee for people, they love you. I was their pusher, in every sense of the word.

[Okay, Tim just called me into the living room to check out Michael Stipe's make-up on the ol' Live Aid deal (or whatever they are calling it post-80's) in Philadelphia. Dude sometimes looks like a total wingnut, but I still believe he is holding more cards in his deck than Tom Cruise (egads! a dig at a celebrity! me? never).]

It didn't hurt that I was working in a geographical area that's coffee claim to fame is that, consumption wise, Seattle has the most coffee drinkers per capita than any other city in our fine country. I don't know if this is actually true. But I tell you what - drive thru latte stands in the Seattle area are thicker than mosquitoes in Minnesota on a July evening.

It is truly insane how much coffee is sucked down in the great Northwest on a daily basis. I benefited huge from the experience of serving it up to the citizens of Lynnwood, Washington. They were there for baked goods as well. But it was the coffee that packed them in from the start of my shift at six o'clock in the AM to probably around nine o'clock AM. A three hour long frenzy of activity that centered around our 3 group La Pavoni. I flitted from this workhorse of an espresso machine to the counter amongst cries of "double tall skinny vanilla" and "decaf cinnamon latte" with a couple of jabs thrown in for good measure to keep the clientele in their place.

I often groaned dramatically at the knowledge that I had to make a decaffeinated beverage of any kind. To this day, I sincerely do not get the point. The villainous customer that had ordered such a confusing concoction would not be treated with kid gloves by this barista - no sir! This was all in good fun and a constant source of amusement for me, which is really all that matters.

The best part about this job was the gratitude that was generated when you served a cup of coffee. Many of the customers were regulars. Not one of them took their coffee for granted. They were most humbled by a steaming cup of joe in any form. I like that. I liked the admiration that was bestowed upon my best cup. I liked knowing that I hadn't screwed up one order on my shift (that one time, anyway). It was this mess of people barking and growling for their morning jones that got me up in the morning. I didn't need as much coffee as they did, for it was their mere presence that motivated each of my moments at the helm of the La Pavoni.

I covet the green Starbucks apron that is worn by the staff. I envy the amount of face jewelry that I encounter when I pick up a latte in the skyway downtown. Not that I would ever get my eyebrow pierced, but these lackadaisical standards concerning "face art" at your local Joe monger are awesome. I love it.

Where is my barista moment now? I am pushing headlong right smack dab in the middle of my thirties on July 26th. Three decades and five years is a long road to have grown up along, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. It's nice reflecting on what I have done with my life while growing up, but at this point I would settle for the easy and rewarding madness of that bakery in Lynnwood.

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