I was a bad girl

I've been bad and I need to confess. First of all, I haven't been blogging lately which is disrespectful to all you devoted fans out there (ha ha). Secondly, I was late for work today an dI still feel ashamed about it. I just don't do that. It didn't end up affecting the shift so much, and the supervisor on duty was someone who has been late for my shifts a million times, but still you know? Also, one of my lovely male co-workers did try to hook up with me a couple nights ago, and I'm still in that strange bewildered state where I don't know how to react. We worked together on Saturday (cinco de mayo, anyone?) and after work we went to the bar to get wasted, which we did quite successfully! We were talking about random, boring relationship stuff. He, well Sam, has a girlfriend who he cheats on relentlessly and I tried my best to give him proper advicxe on how to break up with someone. I'll admit that getting tipsy can bring out my flirtatious side, so I may have been asking for it the whole time, but there came a point after the 7th or 8th beer where I could tell he was thinking that we'd be gettin it on soon. He's attractive and there's definitely some chemistry but I simply could not go along with his advances. It became extremely awkward when we hit another bar and ran into a co-worker, Dave, who immediately began casting suspicious glances my way as it was obvious at that time in the drunken evening that we were wasted and flirting. Dave knows that Sam is a man-slut. Well, everyone knows. Sam used to hook up with Jane and as far as I know he sleeps with different girls all the time. So Dave sees the two of us together and knows that something must be going on. So I take him outside for a smoke and tell him I know what it looks like, but I swear it's innocent. We come back and Sam, getting drunker by the minute, starts getting possessive over me and putting his arm around me and I just didn't know what to do. The most amusing part was when we were sitting around the table, and Dave and Sam were taking turns texting me all secretively. Dave would write "come on, let's get out of here you don't want to put up with Sam anymore, do you?" and two seconds later I'd get a message from Sam, "you're beautiful. hook up with me." How charming. But then all of a sudden Sam got a message from some chick he screws on occasion and he ran off into the evening to get some ass elsewhere. So that was that. Now my inbox is flooded with apologetic messages from Sam. I guess he's embarassed. I would be too, but he doesn't know my past. If anyone can forgive drunken sluttiness, it's me.

No more poopy.

I only chose that title for this entry because I want everyone to know that I will no longer clean up dookie at work. I write that here in this blog that no one will ever read, but I know that it's not true. Unfortunately, one of the shitty (pun intended duh) aspects of this job is that I really have no choice in the matter when it comes to poop. If it's there have to clean it up. I get mad though, when I'm, supervising and someone else on the shift has been assigned the job of cleaning the bathrooms (we have to do it once during every shift) and they go in, come out two seconds later and tell me that there's shit everywhere, expecting me to then absorb the task of scrubbing it off the walls just because I'm in charge of the shift. It seems strange that I have enough experience with this sort of thing to merit me even writing about it, but I can assure you that I deal with a shitty bathroom at least a couple times every month. Our cafe's pretty large I think. We have three fucking bathrooms. We serve coffee!! Some people just use our bathrooms for their morning shit. They don't even buy coffee. I know a couple of the garbage guys do it. I guess that's okay. At least they work hard and have to smell far shittier things than I do all day. But then there are some customers who come in every day to get coffee and take a huge smelly dump. I see them and I know that if I could just get up the nerve to refuse them service one morning, then maybe their bowels wouldn't be prompted to explode so soon in a place where I have to clean it up/. I mean, come on guys, save it for the office!! There is this story that I have that involves more dookie than you can shake a stick at. I've been waiting for the perfect time to write about it. I have to be in a specific mood, and I have to be awake and coherent enough to write it well so that you'll feel just an ounce of my pain.
I'll give you a little taste- this guy one time crapped all over the bathroom and spread it on the walls and mirror and sink with his hands (which he didn't wash afterwards just so you know). He was drunk and it was at nighttime. I hate him. We had to call the police. I'll tell you more juicy stuff some other time. love dani

MTV thinks we're boring!

Well folks, sorry to dissappoint, but it looks like you won't be seeing any of Cafe Nasty on the small screen anytime soon. I honestly am a little disappointed. It would've been fun to watch some of my lamer co-workers duke it out over random, stupid things. Now that Jane is gone, so is a lot of the in-store drama, so the excitement level has been taken down several notches since those producers were milling about a couple months ago.
I still have theatrical hopes for our cafe though. I want to make an espresso training movie with a couple of the other coffee trainers at the store. I just don't know how to execute the project. David Schomer has really informative videos that we watch every now and then at staff meetings, and I highly recommend them to anyone who works at a cafe or is just curious about coffee. But the movies don't quite tackle the way we at Nasty brew our joe, and Schomer's words are thus rendered less than useful, though still interesting and insightful. I think that Nasty needs its own line of videos because our methods are extremely unique and I've never been to any other cafe that came close to approximating what we do. SO no use trying to confuse our poor workers with training supplies that won''t really serve them at their jobs. It's time I got in front of the camera and showed all those bitches how it's done.

Nothing

Today was one of those days where every customer, even the regulars who are typically nice, acted pissed off. I guess it's a common thing for people in my line of work to serve as punching bags for customers who are experiencing some dissatisfaction in other areas of their lives. We're just the humble servants behind the counter. We can't snap back, even if the customer is completely out of line and blatantly rude. I don't feel like I'm a slave. I take pride in my work, and want to be treated as a professional- I try to dress somewhat well, wear make-up and radiate a sense of pride and confidence, just hoping customers will pick up on it and give me some credit and less attitude. That's about all I can do. This renders me helpless in the face of everyday crabiness that I'll inevitably run into at least once during any given shift. I must allow a certain amount of rudeness and be willing to put up with it, or else I'll crumble beneath it and go home feeling so shitty about myself every day. The only way I've been able to tolerate people's crap is to drape myself in a thick cloak of impermeable confidence before each shift. Though I'm confident enough naturally, the emotional strength that's required to devote more than four full years of my life to serving cappuccinos is far beyond what's inherent in my being. I do, however, have a strong appreciation for the art of service, and that has certainly helped me carry on. I can embrace the theatrical aspect of customer service. That thick cloak I was discussing is really just my usual facade- my workplace persona that is more outgoing and talkative and eager to please than my normal self. If I can enjoy putting that mask on day-in and day-out, then I'll have no problem keeping up with this job. Days like today truly test my passion for Cafe Nasty. So far, I'm still having fun.

I promise I'm still here

I feel heavily weighed upon by the amount of schoolwork and freelance work that's been thrust upon me this month. I'd made it a priority when I started this blog to write in it every day, both to keep up my writing skills and to take a deeper look into the coffee business, so I might appreciate this very time-consuming job a little more I suppose. I am lazy as well as techophobic by nature, so it's no surprise to me that I've been slacking in the blogosphere. Nonetheless, I made a commitment to myself several months ago to be regular with my posts, and I swear I'll try to adhere to that commitment more responsibly in the future.
I've thought about different ways to make the coffee business more prevalent on the web. Though I possess no internet programming skills or whatever of my own, I'm still a creative visionary, and I can at least generate ideas and manipulate others into executing them. Does coffeeshop.com exist? I was thinking it could be a web community devoted to coffee. Like there could be blogs by cafe workers like me, roasters, enthusiasts. I also think it would be cool to have a rating system for coffee shops around the country (or even the world) for hardcore addicts to rate the quality of service, espresso, brewed coffee, ambience and stuff like that.

Am I a bitch?

I was racked with guilt for most of today's shift. I waas mean. Sometimes you just have to be, when your workers are slacking and shit just isn't getting done. That's how it was this morning. I tried to be the good person, I really did. But these bitches threw it back in my face and made me suffer for my attempts at kindness. Hannah, who no one can stand, surprised me in the wee hours of the morn' by walking in to work (she was covering forit another girl on the shift). Since I know that no one can stand her, I did the nice thing by working side by side with her all day and putting the other two girls together. Thing is, the other two are friends, and friends tend to slow each other down at work, with all their giggling and gossiping and shit. I kept turning around to see what kind of shape Cafe Nasty was in while they were in charge of keping it clean (that's right, we don't have janitors- we do everything ourselves) and it was just a horrendous sight time after time. I got snappy. I couldn't help it! You should have seen. The garbage can was literally overflowing- to the point where they would put an empty milk container in and it would roll off the top of the dirty mound onto the floor. The nerve! So I definitely got huffy and bitchy. But then I felt really bad and apologized after the shift. They said they didn't notice me being mean and not to worry, but they were lying I know it.
Moral of the story is to not have two good friends working close together if you're in charge, b/c they won't do shit and then you'll have to yell at them and feel bad.

Back to my old tricks.

That was a nice little vacation. Now I'm back at work, like nothing ever changed. One thing I noticed during my adventures out west is that, no matter where I went, food service was slow and uninspired. I know what you're thinking- that service workers (myself included) are underpaid and underappreciated, the work is dull and dirty, so why would I expect enthusiasm from the young dude serving me coffee in the morning? I'll tell you why- because where I come from, if you fail to go that extra mile for each customer you serve, or if you show signs of laziness or that jaded coffee shop worker attitude you are toast. With all the training and effort we at Nasty put into cultivating superior work ethics in our employees, it's nearly impossible for anyone to last at the job without becoming just as psychotically obsessed with customer service as I am. Those that can't live up to the responsibility are quickly weeded out. Why do we even bother? The competition between hip, independent coffee houses around here is so minimal that I'm sure we'd still have a following even if we gave shitty service. But out west, I'd think it would be a different story. Isn't that where Starbucks was birthed? The shortage in efficient and friendly service extends beyond the coffee industry though. Fast food, nice restaurants, ice cream shops, they were all guilty in my brief experience in San Diego. I'm curious just how fact-based my assessments are. Mind you, I was only there for five days. But perhaps that fast-paced New York vibe radiates outward from the city and infects the entire eastern seaboard with its frantic energy. Maybe things are just different out west, and I have to learn to accept that. I don't know.

Greetings from San Diego!

I just thought I should write and let y'all know that the working girl has escaped for a little while. To the sunny beaches of California! It's my spring break from school, and I'm taking a few days off from Nasty as well. I'm actually staying at the apt. of two former Nasty workers. Giving them all the latest gossip from work because they don't get to read this blog. Okay I have to get back to drinking and flashing my honkers to that girls gone wild guy. See ya!

Yes, more MTV crap

They keep coming back, those psycho producers from MTV! I've gotten my head back on straight and done the right thing by giving them a definite no to being part of their little circus. That doesn't mean they've backed off. Just the other day, they were in the cafe with a random assortment of hipsters and beautiful kids they seemingly assembled from off the street to be in their show. They were loitering in and around the cafe, cameramen in tow, crowding the joint during our busiest hour of the day just to get shots that made it look like these random kids work for Nasty. They did this at the record store across the street as well. My boyfriend said that the producers went back there and demanded that the scruffy guys behind the counter shave off their nasty facial hair, wear some name-brand shirts and trucker hats (are those even cool anymore?) and basically just present themselves to be, well, different people while the cameras are rolling. Now, this place is not Empire Records. It's more like the shop in High Fidelity, if you wanna make that kind of comparison. There's no glam at this record store. The guys are aging, unhip, scraggly and withdrawn. I don't know if an Ashton Kutcher costume is really gonna do the trick. This may be why the producers suggested that they might bring in their own set of "workers" to be on duty while filming is taking place. In other words, MTV would hire sexy actors to play record shop employees in order to make their reality show more appealing. Should we at Nasty at least be flattered that they haven't suggested doing that to us?

Coffee Tasting

this is some valuable information about coffee tasting. I am not poetic enough to have written it. Someone else did. Enjoy!


tasting: terms and tools

Coffee tasters use four main categories to help describe and define a cup of coffee. These are acidity, body, bouquet or aromatic profile, and flavor.

* Acidity: this is probably the most important coffee-tasting term, and also the most easily misunderstood. Acidity in coffee tasting is a positive term that denotes a liveliness and vibrancy on the palette, bright taste sensations caused by sugars and other acidic compounds. Coffees are rated as high, medium, or low in acidity according to the overall presence of these qualities
* Body: body describes the texture of coffee and how it feels in your mouth. Density, surface tension, viscosity and other factors determine the perception of body, which is typically rated as heavy or full, medium, and light, depending on if it is thick and creamy or thinner and possibly watery.
* Bouquet: our sense of smell is very involved in the enjoyment and evaluation of coffee, before, during and after we actually taste it. Aromatic profile, or bouquet, is divided into four phases: fragrance, aroma, nose and aftertaste.

Fragrance is perceived in the gases arising from freshly ground coffee.
Aroma is in the gases from freshly brewed coffee.
Nose is perceived in the vapors arising as coffee is swallowed.
Aftertaste is in the vapors that remain after the coffee is swallowed.

* Flavor: flavor refers to the taster’s overall impression of body, acidity, and bouquet. In a general sense it refers to intensity and may also acknowledge particular characteristics such as spice, nut, fruit, or chocolate notes.

The physical tools of the taster are quite obvious: the nose and the mouth/tongue. Key flavors are perceived on different parts of the tongue. Acidity and sweetness are tasted primarily on the tip of the tongue, sourness and saltiness more on the sides, bitterness mostly in the back, and body registers over the whole surface. The nose is an equally important tool, capable of distinguishing between 2000-4000 different aromas. Much of coffee’s flavor is locked up in volatile, aromatic compounds, perceived both directly by sniffing in through the nose, and again during tasting as vapors rise up into the nasal cavity.

While some people are natural “palette people,” blessed with superb sensitivity, it is important to remember that with concentration and practice we all possess the skills to master coffee tasting.

cash register blues

yes, I'm blue. We got a new cash register in the cafe a couple days ago, and it's ruining my life. Our old machine was extremely, well, old. No computer screens, dirty buttons that you can hardly even read what they say. It was great. The new ones are big and clunky, every menu category has its own page in the system. You have to select stupid things like what type of milk or flavor the latte is made with and all that. Basically it's my worst nightmare. I like the simplicity of our old machine. Lots of our pastries didn't even have buttons, and we'd just kind of make up prices as we went along. Fortunately, we're sticking true to one of our guns at least by not taking credit cards. This is something people feel very passionate about. I do as well. At least as far as Cafe Nasty is concerned, I'm anti-plastic. There's something satisfying about denying someone his order at the last minute, just as the barista is pouring his cappuccino, because he thought he could pay with his card. We've wasted many a hot chocolate, etc. because of situations like these. Bad for business yes, but funny. I think the main reason bossy won't get a card swiper thingy is because the company has to pay a small amount for every transaction made with a credit card. And since most of our orders are under like $5, it just doesn't make sense to take plastic. Plus, the line can move a hell of a lot quicker when I don't gotta stand there like an idiot, waiting for the machine to process this asshole's card. What if his card is maxed out and I have to shred it? Oh, that would be satisfying.

Black Gold

I think this is the name of it. My boss recommended this documentary to me, and now I'm recommending it to you! Of course it will be depressing. It's about the corrupt coffee business in Africa, with workers who are practically enslaved by plantation owners they're paid so little. I guess it's sort of the real-life coffee equivalent of that DiCaprio movie "Blood Diamond." Perhaps you'll never take a sip of espresso again after watching it. Perhaps you'll quit your job. I haven't seen it yet, but it's on my Netflix list. que, queue?

No title

I'm in a bad mood. The worst is to be having a "fat" day, be ultra exhausted, kind of depressed, overloaded with school work, mad because the interview I did today didn't record properly and now I'm fucked, and bitter that no, at what should be the end of the day, I have to go begin a shift and train a newbie how to close. Times like these when it's hard, but I've got to remind myself that I love my job and I wouldn't want to be doing anything else for a living. I wouldn't make a good teacher, unlike ever yother girl I know. Will I even be a good mother? I might be completely void of all those maternal, coaching and nurturing instincts. I just lose patience when I train people. Not out loud, of course. My theatrical nature is what saves me, because I can fake a mood whenever life calls for it. I'll just silently suffer like a Jewish grandmother in her darkened living room, and no one will know. But on the inside, I'm screaming, "Is it so goddamn hard to figure out how to sweep a floor? Where did you come from you idiot!!" Cause it's not like they get taught how to make a perfect cap on their first day. That comes a couple months later, after they've proven they can show up on time, scrub toilets, and basically prove that they're worth the money we (not me, boss) pay them.
It's all the crap that comes before espresso training that's painful for me and surely for them as well. I wouldn't want to be trained by myself. No way. What could be more tedious than spending your evening watching closely over this stranger making sure she's putting the latte glasses back in the right spots, or putting broken glasses in the recycling instead of on top of the espresso machine. People have done that. I've seen it with my own two eyes.

Still Scared

Wow baby. It's five days since I wrote something here. I hope none of my fan swere worried about me. I've been really busy with school- with writing this one paper really. No excuses. I don't have a lot to say. One good thing about being so tied up in school, work, and freelancing is that I have like no time to sit and think about how much something or other may suck. So that's good I suppose. I'm still scared shitless about our upcoming cap-off. My caps haven't been looking that great lately. Maybe I'm psyching myself out.

carpal fears

I am scared at the moment because for the first time ever, my wrist is aching with the kind of pain I've only heard described to me by co-workers suffering from carpal tunnel syndrome. In the coffee industry it's not uncommon for workers to experience shooting pains in their wrists and forearms. We baristas make espresso with one hand, and the process of pulling each shot is a repetitive series of twists and turns of the wrist that, after some time, can cause damage. Damn! I didn't think it could happen to me, though. It's funny, because I never have these pains at work, while I'm working the espresso machine. I feel the pain only right now, in my right arm, as I'm sitting here typing. It feels like the tendons connecting my fingers to my wrists to my elbows are on fire or like they might stiffen up at any moment. Anyway, it hurts real bad and I don't want it to continue.
So what do I do? Stop typing? But I'm an aspiring journalist. I can't not type! So do I stop making coffee? Well if I did that, then what would I write about? You see this dilemma of mine? Do you realize now how hard my life can be? Jesus Christ

Home Alone at Boss Lady's House!!

I am typing on my boss's computer, sitting at her desk, having my leg humped by her grimy boyfriend's dog. I'm the housesitter this evening. The boss took that boy (11 years her junior- oh my!) out of town for the night. Some sort of lovers getaway I suppose. And I am here, caring for George's two dogs and boss's adorable little kitten. It's quite the good time so far. She lives in a splendid house not far from my apartment, but in the swankier neighborhood, where everyone has a big yard with tree swings and tiny gardens with those shiny globe things in the middle.
She also has this incredible sauna in her backyard. It looks like a big huge barrel but once you crawl inside, all naked and cold from the snowy outdoors, it's this rustic spa- eucalyptus and all. So that's my evening. My boy is on his way over right now. I had to bring hamburger helper from home to cook here. Boss forgets to grocery shop for her kids and I want more than vodka and dark chocolate for dinner.
I've got one of my working girl buddies coming over later for some naked sauna party time. My boyfriend won't go in the sauna because he says that every time he goes in one, he gets a bad cold the next day that won't go away. Something to do with the heat and steam releasing all his body's toxins at once. He is a pussy, but I love him dearly.
You're probably wondering what evil plan I have to steal from my boss's home or vandalize it in some subtle way that she won't discover till it's too late (turd in the freezer? urine all over the sauna?). I'm lucky I guess that I have a good enough boss that I'm not even tempted to shit in her son's closet so she'll blame him two weeks later when she finds it. I thank my lucky stars for this every day.

Work hard, be lonely forever.

Sometimes I don't have fun at work because I try too hard to be the one setting the example by not making jokes or standing around not doing anything. Know what I mean? Since I'm a trainer, and I've also been working at Nasty for much longer than many other employees, there is pressure to instill that strong work ethic that tough managers instilled in me years ago. If Cafe Nasty loses that insane energy, where workers are always buzzing around and scrubbing shit and being hyper-motivated to get the job done, then we're just another lame coffee shop full of burnout youths.
To think that the public could ever view us that way saddens me greatly. However, as time passes and there are so many new people, so many young people, the fear grows within me that we're headed to a bad place.
So to combat this, I go the extra mile by sometimes not even saying one witty thing or engaging in one minute's worth of small talk with my crew for our entire shift. I work hard instead. I give orders, and throw disapproving glances in the direction of those who slack on the job. Sometimes this works and a good flow is achieved, where we're each doing something of value and there's never a dull moment. Other times, I just end up alienating myself from the team and I spend the day in my corner while they chat and laugh and exclude me from all their jokes- and they don't work.
What to do when this happens?

Comedians behind the counter.

Today is Valentine's Day. That's not really a reason for me to be either excited or depressed. I don't celebrate it with my boyfriend because we're poor, lowly college students and it's hard enough just to make our utility payments on time. Besides, do I really find teddy bears or Russell Stover candies thrilling. No I don't. This is all I'm going to say about Valentine's Day. I think I've already made my case against the holiday in a previous entry, so there.
This cold and blistering morning, I had the fortune of working alongside one of Nasty's more entertaining employees, this guy named Jonas. He has worked there for around six years I think, so he's really a dinosaur compared to the mostly new staff.
When I met him, four years ago, he was a sad man- lonely and chubby and a little bit mean. This carried on for some time. He got a girlfriend maybe a year or so ago, and also took a part-time teaching position. The combined effects of these changes seem to be overwhelmingly positive.
When I work with Jonas, I am continuously shocked throughout the shift at his ability to laugh and small talk with customers. It seems so natural, and I know it is- he's just saying whatever comes to mind, which in his case is usually funny- sometimes in a gross way though. What gets me is how open customers are to his somewhat inappropriate sense of humor. I've seen him transform the stiffest suits into giggling little girls. It's quite amazing to watch.
I would love to have this effect on customers, but I know that I never will. I am a petite, cute, and sometimes intimidating (so I've been told) woman. No matter how chummy I think I'm getting with a regular, there is always a barrier. I believe it comes from within me, and has something to do with my general fear of strangers that can be interpreted as a snobbish or closed-off personality. Yes, that's definitely it.
Jonas presents himself in sort of this, "Here I am world. I'm not perfect- in fact I'm far from it. But I don't care, I just want to make dumb jokes and be a weird hairy guy." There is something about the slobby everyman persona that people are amused by. Because they can relate to it I guess? He is truly funny though, I kid you not.
I try to be cute and funny, but my delivery and my overall public self will probably never put people at such ease as Jonas'.
I would like to work on this.

Mid-Semester Burnout

It's that time, and it's not even mid-semester. This is like one month into the spring term and I can go on no longer.
You see, as much as I love working at Cafe Nasty, with its superior brew and its quirky employees, there will come a time in the next couple years where I'm certain I'll go crazy and have to leave forever. I'm not approaching this state, but I've witnessed other former co-workers get there and it's not a pretty sight. They get cranky over the littlest things, their eyes are dead, their vveins drained of all the love they ever had for working here. Hopefully, I'll be able to pull out gracefully before it gets that bad.
I've got like two more years of college left and I plan to stay at Nasty until I've graduated and hopefully gotten a jobby job.
I'm bringing up these concerns over burning out one day just because that's sorta how I feel at this moment. It's the whole working and schooling full-time that gets me. And living with my darling boyfriend and making time to spend with him. Forget about having other friends. I'll have a night with the girls every now and again, but still. I feel dried up right now. Emotionally and psychologically.
I know that I'll be better tomorrow. Good Night.

It's all about the coffee!

This is just my little ode to the joys of coffeemaking. Cafe Nasty actually has two locations in our small town. One has been in existence for almost 15 years, while the other opened just this summer. The staff is trained to work at both stores. There isn't much of a difference between them, product-wise or anything. The main difference is that the new cafe is a lot smaller and serves a little bit more food and shit. The other, smaller difference is that I hate working at the new Cafe Nasty. This is because I thrive off of the hectic energy of original Nasty. It's quite big for a coffee shop, it seats a shitload of over-pampered snobs and students. It's constantly abuzz with that delightful energy of a well-functioning little business. The new store, because it is so amall and has no indoor seating, has a smaller number of people on every shift. For many reasons, I think this sucks. I'm sure I'll be able to explore those sentiments in depth at a later date. Right now, I'm just bitching because of the lack of contact I have with the espresso machine at the new store. It drives me bonkers!
I live to be close to that steaming hunk of metal (well, not really I guess, but sort of). I get a thrill each time I dose out some of that finely ground pixie dust with it's sweet aroma and dark chocolate. Coffee is life. It is luscious and provides such marvelous instant gratification that only a shot of heroin or an orgasm can match.
And what do I do at the new Nasty? I serve angry mothers and their chocolate-faced offspring bowls of chili and egg sandwiches and all that garbage. No one comes there for the delicious espresso. No way. So I am obviously embittered about having been put in exile over at that stinking place. Fortunately, at this very moment I'm about to begin a shift at the original Nasty, and I have hours of espresso making to look forward to. Joy to the world!

How good am I?

I am panicking already, and the cap-off is a month away! I just can't handle the pressure, you know?
Every March, instead of the monthly staff meeting we always have the first Tuesday of the month, we hold a cappucino making contest called the cap-off. It gives all us baristas a chance to show off our ever-growing skills to eachother in a competitive environment. The winner receives $150 and I think 2nd place wins like $75 or something. Not bad. Considering we're all starving artists and students, there is nothing more appealing than cold hard cash.
There will be three judges, a couple of whom used to work at the cafe, and then someone else, usually some longtime aqquaintence of boss lady's who happens to know a thing or two about coffee (or not). The judges sit in a private area so that they can't see who's pouring which cap- so it's fair. They judge on things like proper extraction of the espresso, the milk texture, the cap's appearance, and whether it has the proper amount of foam. Last year, after drinking all that espresso and milk and mixing it up with shots of whiskey, the judges started running off to the bathroom to puke, one by one. Then one of the judges (boss's friend who used to host a show on TLC and thinks he's hot shit) came out of the bathroom after the contest was over and he was so pathetically wasted he grabbed the mic from our official cap-off MC and started ranting about how bad our caps were. He was kidding I guess, but he sounded like such a beligerent drunk that we all thought he was serious and went home feeling bad about ourselves.
I can't handle the cap-off. Never could, never will. Every year I expect it to get easier, especially now that I'm a trainer and am responsible for teaching people how to pour exquisite caps. But I still break into a cold sweat at the mere mention of the cap-off. This is not a surprise to me. I suffer from stage fright, I've had my share of panic attacks and moments of agorophobia. I wish, though, that my body would at least allow me to have fun and get into the competitive spirit like everyone else.
With my co-workers watching, I tremble profusely and become so distracted by my nervousness that I forget to watch my shots, and then I pour sloppily and serve a below-par cappuccino with tears in my eyes. This happens every year, and I hate it. I am hoping to somehow overcome this hurdle and triumph next month, but who knows.
I'll discuss this matter in the future, as the contest approaches. I'll even share techniques with you!!

Jane gets the axe

On my last post, I had mentioned how guilty I felt for agreeing with my boss's decision to fire Jane. I am over that feeling now, and a sense of relief has overtaken any guilt I was harboring. Whether I had told my boss that I think Jane should be fired or not, she was going to do it. I had nothing to do with that.
Now I look forward to a time somewhere in the near future (I hope) where the cafe is not dominated by nasty gossip and unstoppable cafe incest. I expect the next couple of weeks will be rocky as we all adjust. This is the first time in Cafe Nasty history that boss lady has let someone go just because of her personality or her character or whatever. Jane was a very good worker- good with customers, clean and tidy, made beautiful drinks, all that shit. But she was also a destructive force that was slowly lowering everyone's morale.
The question that's on my mind now is: was she totally to blame for the recent epidemic of hostility and slander? Well, no she wasn't. There were others- Mallory and Sanjay got stern talkings to today from the boss- I saw it with my own eyes. And her boyfriend Dave, he did nothing that a good boyfriend is supposed to do when his girl is having a hard time.
Is Jane being persecuted because she's an attractive female? Or does boss lady (do I?) feel threatened by this power Jane seemingly wielded while she was working at Nasty? It really was as if we were all under her spell- obsessed with who she would hook up with next- scared that she would single us out individually and verbally bitch slap each of us behind our backs.
Is this a symptom of society being afraid of strong females?
The thing is, though these questions are floating around in my head because I'm terrified that something unwarranted may have been done, I don't really feel that Jane is the victim of a Puritanical witch hunt. After observing the cafe dynamics over the past couple of months, I can say with confidence that Jane seemed not to care whether she was making trouble at work. We have this saying at Cafe Nasty- that when you walk into the store to begin your shift, you lock up all your problems and issues in this imaginary golden chest, and you can have them back when it's time to leave. Jane routinely violated this rule, and in my opinion dug her grave by doing so.
Will this set an example for the rest of the staff? Will they realize the severity of it all? Or will they laugh it off. Time will tell...

The end of Jane

Well folks. It's finally happened. I didn't expect it, to tell you the truth. I spoke to the boss just about an hour ago and she told me that she's going to let Jane go when she meets with her tonight. Boss lady wanted to get my opinion on the matter and I told her that I thought she was doing the right thing. Now I feel horrible for having said that. But I was being honest. I do think that Jane has created conflicts beyond anything Cafe Nasty's ever seen. Other workers have participated in the shenanigans as well, but I guess Jane has sort of spearheaded the operation. So she'll be gone forever after today. I wonder how Dave, her boyfriend wil react to thwe news.
I'm adjusting to the idea as I write. I don't know how to feel, or what else to say.

Down with "sexpresso"!!

I'm sure you've heard of this by now, but a new kind of coffee bar has been receiving a lot of media attention lately. These cafes do not pride themselves on serving the best, most exquisite cappuccinos, no sir-ee. Their primary draw is that the baristas are scantily clad women. Oh. My. God. But it was only a matter of time, right?
I just read an LA Times article about this cafe in the Seattle suburbs called the Sweet Spot Cafe. The girls behind the counter wear bikinis and tight dresses and all that crap. You should really Google it, it's pretty extraordinary. The special drinks they serve have names like "The Wet Dream" and "Sexual Mix." Can you imagine? This day and age- unbelievable.
But I'll tell you, when I read that these girls, who are paid just above minimum wage, can earn up to $200 in tips during a 7 hour shift, I nearly wet myself. Could I stoop to that level if the price was right? The answer is no: partly because I'm not at all endowed in the bosom area and no greasy trucker wants to shell out for flat-chested service, and partly because it would be gross. As it is, when the occasional slobby male customer gives me more attention than necessary I freeze up and act stupid because I don't know the right way to handle it and it makes me feel funny.
The only way I can accept the existence of these kinds of cafes is to simply place them in a separate category from where I work. I can't imagine that there's much similarity in the way the businesses are run. Who knows how good the drinks are? Can a man even taste what he's drinking if he's busy drooling into the tip jar, a massive erection poking through his jeans? I permit myself to judge the quality of an institution by the quality of its clientele.
My boss is aware of this trend- but I think she kind of likes the idea. I'm crossing my fingers that this new way of customer service doesn't sweep the nation and make its way over to the east coast. I just don't know what I'd do.

The boss and me.

Yes, I do have a meeting/social engagement scheduled for this evening with big boss lady. I made the effort to invite her out for drinks because it's been a real long time since we've even had a lengthy one-on-one conversation. This is a proven strategy for succeeding in life: if your boss likes you- milk it for all it's worth. I consider myself fortunate that my boss likes me and thinks I'm fun. If I lose touch with her on a friendly type level then I just melt away into the ever-growing pool of employees that need her attention. I can't let that slip through my fingers, so we're going out in style tonight.
She's a very fun, independent, sexy and smart woman who started this business with her former husband and father to her two children. She and her ex still run the joint together- I assume it requires a great deal of effort for them to not kill each other every now and then, but so far they've been good about working together and the cafe only gets more successful every year.
So we're gonna "hang" and talk and shit. I guess it's also important to me since all this horrible gossip has been circulating through the cafe lately. I want her to always consider me a responsible ally who she'll never have to worry about causing any kind of ruckus. Plus, maybe she's got some new juicy gossip for me! If she knows that, as one of her upper-level manager people, that I'm professional and wouldn't betray her trust, then she just might spill all her secrets to me. She's done it before. I just want to know if she's thinking about firing Jane or anything, because I've heard talk. But it's just talk.
I'll definitely let you know what happens on our date.

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Of course I should know by now not to go out drinking with my co-workers. Though they are the most eclectic and entertaining group of people, they are all so disfunctional that my work life would probably fare better if I refrained from seeing them in their most drunken, beligerent states.
Even thought I know better, I did, in fact, go out to the bars with a couple guys from work the other night. What began as a carefree, shoot the shit kind of evening ended up one of the most publically humiliating experiences of recent months. Remembering how ashamed I was of us all when it was goin on, I can only imagine how stupid I would have felt if I were sober at the time. Fortunately, I had consumed no less than ten beers (I'm 5'3", 110 lb, but I'm tough).
After hours of drinking at one bar, having fun and being silly, I went along with Sal, this neanderthal of a man, who towers at 6'4" and always seems to be present during my most drunken memories. I think it's because I try to keep up with him, drink for drink. That's really stupid of me. Anyway, we went to another bar in town with Dave, who is another good on-and-off drinking buddy of mine from work. Dave is also Jane's "official" boyfriend, but the label obviously doesn't mean much, at least to Jane.
As Sal, Dave, and I were sitting at our table, throwing back brewdogs, a regular customer from the cafe came up to our table and wanted to shake our hands and thank us for making such good coffee and shit. This interaction was followed by a brief session of us gushing about how much we all love working at Cafe Nasty, how it's such a good business that we truly believe in, and we're so happy our co-workers are so cool that we want to hang with e/other all the time- you know, real sentimental crap that you only find yourself saying after eight beers.
Our mushy love session led into Dave talking about some of his random business ideas for improving the cafe's profits- just wacky thoughts he's had before that I don't think he ever put much energy into. Things like opening up a branch in the neighboring college town, or making an espresso cart that we can push around at big hippie festivals (Dave is really into big hippie festivals). Out of nowhere, Sal just erupted with rage and started yelling at Dave for not caring about the cafe. Dave got defensive and told Sal that every time he has an idea, that Sal always shoots him down or tries to make him look bad in front of the boss. Sal got even angrier at Dave for this and the whole thing escalated into a shouting match, fingers pointing at each other, lots of needless swearing. It was so pathetic.
I kept looking around and noticing how everyone in the bar I recognized as being a regular at Cafe Nasty. Even some of the bartenders are our customers. I felt sad and humiliated that these poor customers are seeing the worst sides possible to us. They were staring at our table like we wer the biggest morons to ever walk into a bar- and we probably were.
Believe me, I did try to interject and break up the fight. But they were completely absorbed by anger and the shouting only ended when Dave left the bar in a huff. I scolded Sal for being such an idiot, and told him that some of our best customers are now probably afraid of him. He felt bad then, and apologized, and he was so drunk that he couldn't remember what the fight was about. Dave returned not long after and they exchanged a hug. Dave couldn't remember how the fight started either.
So, where do we draw the line when it comes to our behaviouur outside of work? We live in a small town, but not that small. There are a lot of people around, but I guess the same kind of people that would go to our cafe would also be into the same bars that we like. So we can't avoid running into customers. But we also deserve to go out and get drunk and silly just like everyone else, right?
I guess I feel bad because it happens so often when I'm out with work friends that a customer will come up and say how great it is that we are all really friends. Yes, I agree, it is great, but we're also enemies a lot of the time. They don't want to see any of that though. I almost feel like they shouldn't have to see any of it. Maybe it is just our responsibility as employees of Cafe Nasty to uphold the facade of friendship. Nothing is more uncomfortable than serving a cappuccino to the guy who saw you threatening your friend at a bar the night before. It's just not cool.

We are retail whores.

I write this entry and shudder with embarrassment. Though we are the perfect example of the classic yet endangered hip mom and pop store: environmentally conscious, liberal, artsy, supportive of local business, there are areas in which we are simply LAME. The most recent example being our surrender to the marketing frenzy surrounding valentine's day. What holiday exists that is more pathetic to sell out to? Isn't it common knowledge that Hallmark invented valentine's day just as a ploy to sell more crap during an otherwise slow time for the greeting card industry? I guess Cafe Nasty didn't get the memo, cuz we let ourselves get sucked into the retail vortex and now we are releasing a special series of red mugs for your valentine honey and I am just ashamed.
To be fair, boss lady is not a greedy or shallow person when it comes to business. She is, however, slightly brittle and easily swayed by the opinions of other jerks. About a year ago, she hired a woman, Katherine, who hails from a lifetime of behind the counter glory. Katherine's gaping hole of a mouth constantly spews ridiculous moneymaking schemes and usually boss lady is too tired to say no to them. There was the erection of a huge and asthetically brutal T-shirt display that Katherine put up in a completely inappropriate place that's in everybody's way. Then there was the introduction of a whole new line of merchandise- costly handmade coffee canisters engraved with Cafe Nasty's logo, ugly mugs in pastel colors that look like toothbrush holders, these overpriced chocolate cherries from California that taste like prunes dipped in feces. And now tacky metal coffee mugs ensheathed in haphazardly glued on red faux leather for the big V-Day.
What can I say? I've offered my input ("those are the tackiest things I've ever seen") at past manager's meetings, but I know that I will never in my life be as persuasive as Katherine. Anyone who thinks they are strong enough to stand their ground while she badgers and "suggests" ways to improve things (that's what she is- an "improver"-barf) has no idea what this woman is capable of. I fear her, and what she may do next.
Cafe Nasty Easter Eggs? Chocolate covered espresso beans in the Kwaanza colors?

The Peacemaker- Or Not?

Question: how involved do I want to be, as a manager, in the lives and/or conflicts of my co-workers?
The thing is, I am about to go to my evening shift with Jane and some other weird guy. Last time I saw Jane was the day she made Mallory cry for whatever reason (whatever Sanjay-related reason, that is).
I myself am worried, just because I'm starting to fear her general wrath, that she's going to make me cry tonight. When I'd first learned of her and Mallory's beef, I wanted to intervene. In the past, when people have been duking it out at work, I've stepped in just to calm things down and at least get them to cool off until after work.
At this moment, my plan is to go into work, be as cool and charming as possible (as I always am) and hope that nothing gets brought up through casual conversation that I don't want to talk about. I will avoid at all costs the subject of Jane being a bitch, and I will hope this saves me from possibly being bitched at.
I feel like it's the right thing to do- to stay out of it and mind my own business... for now.
I've decided that unless people are messing with eachother on one of my shifts, then I should let them live their lives. Am I going about this correctly? It's not like I'm the human relations department at work or anything- I'm just a warm-hearted, caring human being...ummm...yeah.

Jane the Terrible

I feel like a senile old woman. I'm at this cafe five days a week, I know everyone who works there pretty well, or so I like to think. I also (ignorant as this may be) consider myself quite aware of people's relationships- who's dating who and who's fighting and all that. The longer I work here, the older I get, and somehow the new employees just get younger and younger and soon I fear I'll be the ancient matron of the place and no one will fill me in on any of the goings on and I'll be pathetically out of the loop. My fears are becoming realities as I sit here typing.
Today, Jane was working with Stephen, one of the few other employees who's been there longer than I have, a trusty fellow, always good for a laugh or a snide remark whispered behind an evil customer's back. The gossip is that Stephen hates Jane because Jane hates Mallory, a new (hot) girl at work. Why so much hate you wonder?
Jane had hooked up with Sanjay when he started at the cafe, but he quickly dumped her as soon as Mallory got hired. Mallory is certainly a beautiful, intelligent woman, but it's quite amazing the way the men of Cafe Nasty have fallen for her, one by one. She is going out with Sanjay right now, or so I was told today after begging for information from our resident gossip queen. This doesn't mean, though, that Stephen can't worship her from afar, and he does let me tell you!
I guess Jane hasn't gotten over the blow Sanjay delivered when he ditched her for Mallory. So when Jane, Mallory, and Stephen all had a shift together this morning, it was an emotional ordeal for them all and Mallory ended up leaving in tears. I'll never know exactly what Jane said to her that was so bad. Maybe she called her stupid, or ugly, or maybe something worse...
Fortunately, boss lady was on the premises and was able to give Jane a good talking to about not being a bitch, at least while you're working.
As much as I get off on hearing about all this delicious misconduct, it makes me very sad. Jane, Sanjay, Mallory, they are all guilty of creating drama that really has no place behind the counter. Now that I'm off work, and am able to reflect, ponder, and even giggle at this shit, I was very upset hearing about it while it was happening.
When the cafe is pumping, energy is high, there are multitudes of cappuccinos to be made, that is the last time anyone should be called out for being a slut or stealing someone's boyfriend or whatever. Please people. Save it for after the shift!

MTV Came Back

I'm in a crappy mood right now so I lack the energy to go into as much detail as I'd like right now, but I'll give you the basics. The MTV posse returned to the cafe two days ago. I just happened to be finishing up my shift when I saw the camera man and some skanky looking producer chicks meandering about- surely looking to spot some people making out or fighting. Since they'd already been to the cafe once before and had interviewed some people, they had a couple co-workers of mine in particular that they wanted to talk to again. I walked in on the middle of the conversation the producers were having with Jane (of course) and Diana and I introduced myself, hoping my mega-watt smile and sex appeal would excite them and I'd be catapulted to stardom. Not quite the case, but I did get to hang out with them for a few hours, and then again that night.
MTV took us all out to a bar and supplied us with endless amounts of liquor in hopes of some drunken brawls or good hook-ups. I think I downed four Cosmopolitans during the two hours the producers were sponsoring our delinquency. There were only a few of us from work at the bar. Then there were a couple employees of the hip record store in town, and then a smattering of faces I'd never seen before in my life. University students, perhaps? Paid actors? I don't know. I guess at this point we're a sophisticated enough culture to know that so-called "reality" TV is basically bullshit. Do I hang out in real life with those kids from the bar? Do I even go to bars? Hell to the no! But if it's all on MTV's tab, and there exists even the slightest possibility that I could get signed on to be in this show, then I'm gonna go for it. Did you know that you get paid if MTV puts you on a show? Incredible! I know that because I am pathetically honest boring I probably won't be invited to be one of the main "East Coast Laguna Beach" kids. But I may get to be one of those kids in the background, who gets invited to a staged party or maybe even gets paid a little extra to throw a fit at the party and try to kiss someone's boyfriend.

I will keep you posted on Cafe Nssty's rise to small screen fame.

Stay away from the olives!

This is a true story; not for the faint of heart. The menu here at Cafe Nasty extends beyond the delightful cappucinos and espressos I'm so fond of discussing. We serve breakfast and lunch as well. Sort of light fare, no flapjacks or bacon stacks, just things like oatmeal and soups and sandwiches and stuff. It's mostly food grown locally and organically, which is something the owners take a lot of pride in. You know, supporting small-time farmers cuz we're a small-time business.
Thusly, the food is always fresh, produced with love, and of the highest quality you can get out there. Every now and then, however, something goes horribly wrong in the kitchen. We don't always catch the problem before serving it up and traumatizing some poor customer. What am I speaking of in such vague terms you ask? Animal parts. I know, I know.
I had a muffin returned by a man who claimed there were "pieces of a small animal" in it. Turned out to be a little bit of cat fur- no chunks of flesh thank goodness.
The human fingernail a co-worker gagged on as she downed a chocolate chip cookie caused quite a stir. But boss lady had a stern talk with the cookie baker lady, who promised to hold off on the home manicures while she was baking.

Most disturbing of all was the time a woman found an entire owl pellet in her green salad and mistook it for an olive. For those of you that haven't studied ornothology, when an owl or other bird of prey gets a mouse, he'll eat the whole thing, bones, fur and all. Later on, he'll hack up a disgusting ball made up of all the indigestable mouse parts- teeth, hairs, nasty bits. That's how owl pellets are born! So what must have happened is that the local farm that supplied our greens didn't properly sort through the leaves before shipping them over to us. Somehow, Mr. Owlie was sneaking about in the garden and coughed up one of his little treats right into the Cafe Nasty shipment. Before anyone knew it, the salad was plated and served. We serve three little kalamata olives on the side with our salads, so whoever was on salad duty this particular day hadn't gotten enough sleep and assumed the misshapen, hairy chunk with bones sticking out of it was just a funny-looking olive. Apparently, that's what the silly lady who ordered the salad thought as well, cuz she had the balls to bite into it. I guess she got lucky and was spared a mouthful of baby mouse whiskers, but she did notice that something was off.
Upon returning to the counter and showing her half-eaten lunch to Paul, a Nasty worker, Paul knew immediately what the thing was and could barely suppress his urge to hurl. He was smart enough to go along with her "it's just a funky olive" theory and never reveal the truth to her. He gave her a refund. I hope she got the taste out of her mouth.

Epilogue:
Cafe Nasty no longer gets their salad mix from the owl pellet farm.

Excellent Espresso Resource!

Hello all! I want to recommend a site to visit for really fantastic info about all things espresso. First of all, the site is for a superb cafe in, where else, Seattle! It's called Vivace Espresso, and its owner and founder is a really neat guy named David Schomer. I had the pleasure of being sent there by my cafe (an all expenses paid vacation, if you can believe it!)along with the other coffee trainer to take Schomer's intensive three day espresso course. The class was extremely in-depth and I benefited greatly from it. The cost of the trip was a little much, and I'm very greatful to come from a cafe that so believes in cultivating vast coffee knowledge in its workers that it paid for the whole trip.
You don't have to take the course to get all of Schomer's tips and secrets. Go to vivaceespresso.com, I think. Or just Google "Vivace," b/c I'm not entirely sure that's the right address. Anyway, you can see photos of beautiful latte art, read about the cafe, get some poetic versing on the perfect shot of espresso, and you can order a copy of one of Schomer's three books. I have, and love, his book on professional espresso techniques because it covers everything from espresso theory- why it tastes so good, where it comes from, etc.- to machine maintainnence to ltte art.
So check out the site if you have the time!!

Those Sinful Cingular Boys

I had to go to the Cingular store yesterday to get a new cell phone. The guy behind the counter was young, but not too young. Maybe 28 or 29. He was pleasant to deal with, most likely because he spent the duration of our transaction process trying to hit on me. Hey, whatever. As long as he's being nice.
Another man, a customer, who I immediately recognized as Irving, one of Cafe Nasty's regulars, was standing at the counter next to me talking on the store's phone that sits on the counter top. I think he was on the line with a credit card company or something, just judging by the growing level of frustration he displayed as the conversation progressed. Anyway, he paused several times to pass the phone to Victor, the guy who was helping me, saying "You have to talk to them. They want to talk to the salesman who sold me the phone!" Victor repeatedly told him "Sir, I can't help them. I didn't sell you the phone, and the guy who did isn't here, so there's nothing we can do."
I came to learn that the issue was over the $100 rebate that comes with Irving's phone. But he lost the voucher and he couldn't get the rebate so he was very mad at Victor.
I understood Victor's frustration with Irving. Victor obviously had nothing to do with Irving's problem, nor did anyone at the store, considering the rebate is the customer's responsibility to take care of. I was bothered, however, by Victor's unwillingness to comfort Irving in any way, say by giving him his associate's business card so he could speak directly with the guy who sold him the phone and figure out what to do.
Irate customers really just want to be listened to and sympathized with. There's a chance that women in the service world fare better in this kind of situation than their male counterparts. I'm thinking of customers here as being angry babies who just need some soothing words from mother. It's kind of a Freudian thing I suppose. From my experiences, and from seeing guy baristas at Cafe Nasty fail miserably at helping problematic customers, I do think there's validity to the calming nature of womankind.
Regardless of my theories though, Victor had many options for dealing with angry Irving. Don't they have a customer service handbook at Cingular. It seems like the more expensive the merchandise, the better trained employees should be at catering to even their most difficult clients needs. It makes sense right? That the more money people spend, the more attention they'd expect from salespeople.
My needs were put on hold momentarily while Victor and Irving battled it out. Victor just kept telling Irving there was nothing he could do for him, that the rebate was his problem, not Cingular's. Hearing this, Irving got very mad. He said, "There is no courtesy here. What, you only pay me respect when I'm spending money here, and not when I have a problem. The man who sold the phone to me was courteous and you are being so rude. Fine I'll just take my business elsewhere. I don't have to come here anymore!"
And can you believe that Victor even interrupted him to say "That's fine sir, whatever you want. Have a nice day," just totally dismissing him and sending him on his way. I thought that screamed immature. Bad, bad Victor.
Then Victor committed another no-no. When Irving was gone, he started venting to me about what an asshole the guy is. I'm sure there was a little bit of machismo "I don't take shit from anyone" stuff going on, to impress me no doubt. But still! There were other customers in the store, standing right next to me!
It's a Nasty rule: you don't talk shit about customers in front of other customers. Gee, when I put it like that it just sounds like the most basic common sense. But apparently, not everyone adheres to it.

Take care of your customers!

We baristas are a special breed. We are a uniquely skilled set of people. We know way more about coffee than the average Joe ever will (get it, Joe? ha ha). Depending on the cafe we work for, our definition of the perfect cappuccino will vary. Shots of espresso will look and taste different, and we will time and judge them differently. The fact that there's so much knowledge and product diversity just within the industry makes me all the more convinced that members of the general public possess an even wider array of assumptions about the coffee their baristas serve them.
I've mentioned before about customers becoming irate after being served a latte without foam, when in fact the defining characteristic of a Cafe Nasty latte is its foamlessness.
I have learned over the span of my short career to never assume the customer knows what she's talking about. Fortunately, because coffee shops tend to build up a clientele of regulars who do, over time, get familiar with all the little technical terms their baristas throw around, most customers I serve know exactly what to order and how to ask for it.
I like to think I'm pretty adept at spotting the tourist and quickly adjusting to my helpful, non-judgemental coffee snob mode. Our big chalkboard menu that's posted high on the wall behind the counter is sparsely worded, and a little enigmatic in its drink descriptions. It's a menu written for coffee jerks, who of course will only order off the menu anyway.
During a busy shift spent making coffee for regular customers whose special drinks I've committed to memory, it can be difficult to snap myself out of my uber-barista haze and slow down to take the order of someone who may never have been to a cafe like this in her whole life for all I know.
It may sound strange, but when these moments arise, I embrace them fully because they always remind me why my job is as enjoyable as it is. Serving a delicious mocha to an excited new customer is fun. It's a special little experience, and I try to remember as often as possible to appreciate the joyful simplicity of it.
I cannot get caught up in the hustle bustle or I will stop having fun.
Baristas, exercise your patience muscles and answer customers' questions graciously and thoroughly. You want them to return to your cafe many times in the future, and a willingness to find out exactly what they want, scrapping all the fancy coffee lingo and talking like a normal person, is a huge part of providing them with an experience they'll want to repeat.
Bless you, good friends.

My secret cafe date.

Hello there friends. I promise to add entries in the near future that are relevant to the actual cafe business, because I know that's what everyone really wants to hear about. But for now, as long as life keeps supplying me with curious little anecdotes to share, I will share them with you and you will love them!
I was taken on a trip by one of my co-workers yesterday. Her name is Diana, and the trip was a special surprise birthday present to me. No matter that my birthday is in August. I think she'd wanted to take me out on my actual birthday, but we were both too busy and then we stayed busy through the fall semester and there just never was time to do anything. The extra few months, however, gave Diana time to build the birthday excursion up in her head as something far greater and more important than a quick beer after work.
Diana is, how can I explain this, fucking crazy. She is obsessive-compulsive, hyperactive, over dramatic about everything, a non-stop talker who has one of those grating external monologues going at all times so that all those around her know exactly what she's doing or thinking or thinking about doing. Can you imagine someone like this? You probably know someone like this, who is good natured and all that but as soon as she enters a room, its energy changes. Diana brings with her this high stress level to the most calm settings, and shifts at work are often mush harder on my soul if I'm working with her. I've tried to instill some of my "just let it mellow, man" attitude in her, but to no avail. She is simply ON at all times.
So for the past four or five months, she's been secretly plotting a surprise getaway for the two of us. And of course, because it's her, I've received a play-by-play commentary from her as she's made the plans, changed them, made new plans, cancelled, etc. I believe that she was trying to heighten my anticipation by keeping me updated constantly on how the plans were turning out, while never letting the actual surprise leak into my realm of knowledge. She could have interpreted my blase attitude towards the whole thing as me not being too invested, but no, that would require a grasp on reality that Diana simply lacks.
Privately, I was curious what she could possibly be so excited about doing together, but never did I let on to this. Privately, though, I just asked another co-worker where she was taking me since she's been talking about it to everyone for months. I didn't tell her this either.
Unfortunately for us both, yesterday was the coldest we've had this winter, and our trip brought us to the mountainous terrain upstate, to a sanctuary for wolves and bobcats and foxes.
Along with the two other visitors to the preserve that day, a bitter mom and her 8 year-old son with severe ADHD, we stood shivering for more than an hour while the director's delivered their educational talk while trembling themselves.
Wolves are sexy animals. They sort of slink around, like they're always stalking prey. They don't look trustworthy. The big white fluffy ones were my favorite.
The woman who introduced us to the preserve's three foxes had no gloves on. The foxes behaved more or less like naughty puppies, balancing on their hind legs and pawing at the woman to give them more dog treats. The evil foxes kept biting her fingers and drawing blood, but she wouldn't notice due to her beginning-stage frostbite, and this eventually brought her to a state of visible discomfort. Our session came to a close.
The most rewarding part occurred on our walk back to the tour van, when we got to howl at the wolves and get them so upset that the whole lot of them started howling back, defending the territory they feared was being invaded by a rival pack.
Why would Diana be so determined to give me a good birthday present that she would spend months Googling various activities around the state until she found the perfect one? Mind you, we'd never even hung out together before yesterday.
Diana frequently tells me that she wishes I was her younger sister, that I'm her favorite person, that I'm so funny and special. But she denies wanting to get it on with me. I went ahead and asked, just out of curiosity. What? What's wrong with that?

This is a funny story.

After my closing shift last night I went out for a drink with J ane (yes, that Jane) and another girl, Stacy, from work. We were just shootin' the shit, talking about boy drama, the new guy in Stacy's life and whatnot. I really just wanted to tag along to catch up on the latest gossip that I've been missing out on recently. Jane and Stacy exist within a little bubble of scandal and intrigue, so I had to take advantage of being invited into that bubble for one evening.
Stacy lives with Clarissa, another barista, in a little apartment across town. Stacy doesn't enjoy living with Clarissa, however, because Clarissa is a major headcase and everyone knows it. Clarissa is so completely beyond just benefitting from the advice of her loving friends. She needs professional help, and a lot of it. She comes from an opressive family who's always belittled her and taken out all their anger towards her wild and crazy older sister on her. This has created a tiny little monster out of her. A self-loathing demon who breaks into tears at the drop of a hat over the myriad discomforts of her life. Don't ever allow yourself to be in a room alone with her, because she will bring you into her torured exisatence and drench you in her incessant tears and you will be forever stained by her misery.
Clarissa is one of my favorite people at the cafe, don't get me wrong. She's smart, funny, incredibly stylish and energetic. She just happens to be the most depressed girl on the face of the planet. God damn stupid families! Don't they realize the horrible things they say and do to their daughters in the midst of their crucial formative years? I don't blame Clarissa for being the way she is. I simply feel the frustration of not being able to help her out of her hole. I'm thinking about staging a big old intervention.
This is what Clarissa did a couple months ago. The fact that she never told me this herself, that I had to wait for Stacy and Jane to tell me in private, means that she must really be suffering the utmost shame because of it. Had I gotten myself into the same situation, I wouldn't tell anyone either.
Clarissa responded to a bizarre ad on Craigslist for a "fashion shopper" of some sort. I don't know the details of the ad, just that it was weird from the getgo. She drove to this guy's house somewhere upstate one day. He answered the door in his wheelchair. This was why he had to advertise for this shopper position. Because it was something he couldn't take care of himself. He provided her with a list of different clothing items he wanted her to go to the mall and acquire. She thought nothing strange of it at first, even when he told her to be sure and get the clothes in her size. He explained that he was a photographer, and the clothes would be worn by a model during an upcoming shoot.
Clarissa bought everything on his list, and returned to his place the day of the shoot. I guess she was uncomfortable, but not completely turned off, when he instructed her to put on the clothes and model for him while he photographed her. She did it. From what I understand, she was just wearing skirts and tanktops. No lingerie or pasties and dildos or anything.
Anyway, when Clarissa went home that night, she felt that he'd violated her and she had to get back at him. Clarissa has been dating this complete loser guy in his 30s on and off for over a year. He's mean to her but he spoils her with expensive gifts, and because Clarissa's family never even cared enough to shower her with material affection, she thinks what they have constitutes a real relationship.
Clarissa brought her boyfriend, Greg, to the photographer's house a couple days after the fateful shoot. I believe the intention was to kick the poor wheelchair-bound guy's ass for being such a nasty perv. Unfortunately, he wasn't home that day, so no ass-kicking took place.
Greg encouraged Clarissa to go to the police and report the evil photog. When she did, however, the cops informed her that the guy didn't really do anything illegal and there was nothing they could do for her. Clarissa is a smart, capable 25 year-old woman wwho had clearly consented to this photo shoot. She had to come to terms with her own naivete.
So now Clarissa is ashamed and keeps this matter hushed. I understand why.

Water Cooler Gossip

As I've mentioned before,our cafe managers meet for an hour just about every other week. We go to a restaurant/bar that's right down the street, get free booze and nachos, and vent to our boss about whatever's been going on- who's annoying who, recent customer complaints- stuff like that. As sort of a peace-keeping mechanism, the meetings are fabulous. No matter what someone's problem is, just getting to talk it out usually settles it. Sometimes I wish that we didn't get all that free beer and nachos because I always eat too much and feel greasy and lethargic afterwards. But that's my biggest complaint about our managers meetings.
Boss lady had some specific issues with our staff at the last meeting, a couple days ago.
She said that there' s been too much gossip circulating through the cafe and she doesn't want to hear about it, that it depletes morale and makes us seem immature- which makes sense. Upon hearing her mention this, I immediately felt queasy knowing that things were being discussed by my co-workers when I'm not around. I haven't really heard any good gossip lately. Maybe I heard people talking about hook-ups and what not a few weeks ago, but not recently. So did this mean that the gossip was about me? I doubt it, knowing my life to be consistently boring I can't imagine anyone would have shit to say about me. I hope, at least.
What then? Trust me, as soon as the meeting was over and I was huddled outside in the cold with my fellow smoker buddies, I demanded to know what was going on that everyone forgot to clue me in on. But boss lady came out to bum drags off of people's cigarettes, so I couldn't milk any info out of my comrades.
After digging deep these past couple days, trying to reestablish myself as part of the "in" crowd, I realize that there was nothing particularly interesting being discussed, just some residual whisperings of Jane's many holiday sex scandals.
I then felt guilty and ashamed for being so intent on knowing all the cafe dirt. Maybe my boss was right about gossip. It is immature, I'll give her that. I wouldn't exactly blame it for bringing down morale, in fact our team morale seems quite in tact at the moment. If I were my boss, the only message about gossip that I'd convey to my employees is "be careful what you say and who you say it to." I.e. don't be so careless that people find out it was you talking behind their backs, and especially make sure your boss doesn't find out that you're the Chatty Cathy in the cafe, sullying everyone's reputation.
Gossip can't stop, it just can't! I am hungry for the most vulgar stories about my co-workers because I want to be constantly entertained. The next time I do something gossip-worthy, I'll be insulted if it goes unnoticed at work. I can dish it out and I can take it. We should all embrace this attitude. It makes work more fun!

Barista Resolutions 2007

I'm a little late in posting my new year's resolutions, but I've been thinking carefully about what they should be. Though I'd love to lie and say that I'm the perfect employee with no need for improvement, I think it's about time that I set some goals and try to do a better job. So, in no particular order, here are some things for me to do this year:
Give more of myself to the customer. Does that sound kinky? Good. What I mean is that I've been working here for like four years, and I know all of our regular customers and try to be nice and chatty when I can, but I feel like I could do better. I never ask people their names, so though I know everyone by face and I know what drink they get every day and what their favorite movie is, I am only able to say "Hey....you! Good to see....you." I've done this intentionally, you see. This is because I am a very moody person, and some days I feel so down that I can't even attempt any witty banter or meaningless smalltalk with the customers. Some of my co-workers are always "on" and are so sickeningly lively behind the counter I wonder what meds they're prescribed and why don't they work as well as my anti-depressant cocktail? I feel I am protecting the customer from any rejection he may sense on the day he comes in and I won't even acknowledge his presence other than to hastily take his order and shoo him away.
But I must stop this behavior. It may actually serve to improve my moods if I put forth the effort to be friendlier and more personable. I could even make a friend! If not, getting more familiar with the clientele should at least help that old tip jar fill up a little quicker. Am I right or am I right?

Be Cleaner: I know how lame that sounds, but it's true. We are real sticklers when it comes to sanitation at the cafe- everything must meet those rigorous health codes, counter tops must glisten, floors swept clean, people should be able to eat off our toilet seats. And this year, I will make sure they can do just that.

Spend more time with co-workers: this is, more than anything else, to improve my emotional well-being. I'm a busy girl in general, and school's about to start up again. I live with my boyfriend which is pretty swell, but that's pretty much my only social outlet. I have trouble making friends at school- being a commuter, not too involved in campus life, older than my classmates by around five years, having an aloof, unapproachable aura. I get lonely a lot, but I have trouble fixing it. I guess I'm kind of bad at getting to know people. But I must forsake these insecurities, and I also must rejoice at working with some of the coolest people I've ever met! There are a few people at work that have asked me to hang out and I constantly reject their invites because I'm a nervous, slightly agoraphobic recluse. I want this to stop. I also want to be better informed of the latest cafe gossip. I'm a little out of the loop at the moment.

Pay for my food: I don't really know if I want to adhere to this one. After all, do I not give all my energy and good spirit to this cafe day after day? We get 40% off our food purchases, but the food we sell is really expensive to begin with (and not that tasty really). So I often "forget" to pay for the munchies I grab before going on a ten minute break. I'm really just making an empty promise here. No, I will not pay for my food.

Say more at manager meetings: Maybe even take notes. This here little blog is a good tool to help me remember the important or particularly intelligent thoughts I have about the cafe. I'd like to come to our bi-weekly manager meetings with smart ideas, suggestions, and criticisms, so that everyone will be wowed by my insight.

Make pretty drinks: I think I care most about this resolution. Or I know that this is the one I have the best shot at sticking to, and maybe even fulfilling! I'm in the intermediate stage of artful cappuccino pouring. When the line isn't too long and I have time to focus on the drink in front of me, I try to always execute lovely rosettes on my caps. It's a tricky thing. The milk has to be of the perfect consistency- silky, not too foamy or bubbly. The pour must be slow and steady, with a little wrist wiggle towards the end of the pour to get this beautiful, leafy pattern. I would love for every cap I pour to be beautiful in 20007.

I think that does it!!

Latte vs. Cappucino- To the Death!!

I know from experience that when a customer orders a latte, he's not necessarily ordering what our cafe interprets as a true latte. Quite often, I'll deliver my pristine latte to said customer, my eyes aglow with pride, only to have the drink passed back to me because it's not what he wanted.
Does this happen to other baristas out there?
This is how the drinks are defined where I work: (we do two sizes- single [10 oz. with one shot of espresso] and double [16 oz. with two shots] just so ya know)
Latte- espresso and steamed milk. no foam whatsoever.
Cappuccino- espresso and steamed, foamy milk. 1-1 1/2 inches of foam for a single; 2-3 inches of foam on a double.
I've been to Starbucks (shame!) but I haven't ventured to many other high-end coffee shops in the northeast. I don't know for sure if the definitions provided above reflect common east coast standards, or if they're particular to us.
I think that many west coasties who come to the cafe expect a foamy beverage when they order a latte, so that explains their profound disappointment at being served all-liquid lattes. It's only the real assholes that angrily return the drink- most people are nice enough to explain politely what they really wanted.
I had a woman say to me, "I've been pouring lattes for years and this drink right here is clearly not a latte. Will you pour it out and make me a real latte immediately?!" It sounded a lot meaner when she said it, honest.
I guess the most common explanation for this kind of mix-up is that the customer has no preconceived notion of what differentiates a latte from a cap. He is simply ordering whatever and expecting the barista to read his mind and give him exactly what he's imagining in his little bird brain. There is nothing wrong with not having an extensive coffee vocabulary, as long as you can eliminate the attitude when we mistakenly give you what you don't want. Let's just communicate and be friends.

Field Trips to the Theater!

Because I get along quite famously with most of my co-workers, I enjoy going out with them from time to time. you know, drinks, movies, mini-golf (not that we've ever played mini-golf together, but I'd like to). There's a swanky theater in town, part of the swanky university, and I saw a play there last night with around six cafe buddies.
We got free tickets thanks to my boss being acquainted with one of the play's head honchos. I had nothing to do that evening, and it sounded potentially interesting- some bizarre, acrobatics-filled interpretation of the Alice in Wonderland story. So we went.
Ten minutes into the production, the White Queen makes an appearance from up in the rafters, on one side of the stage. She's standing up there in her flowing white gown, fifteen feet off the stage, warbling away some or other monologue, when she spontaneously tips forward and falls flat on her face on the hard stage floor.
We in the audience thought it was all part of the show, so we gasped and giggled in delight. It was one of those shows where stage hands walk on and off the set during scenes, giving the overall show sort of an unrehearsed, raw and edgy type feel . So there was no reason to panic for the queen's well-being when multiple stage hands ran to her aid and peeled her withered frame off the floor. Surprisingly, she (or, he rather, as the part was played by a dude) stayed in character throughout the ordeal, maintaining the fake British accent as he bellowed "I'm quite alright, quite alright indeed!" to the confused audience.
We realized it wasn't an intentional stunt as the queen was escorted off the stage and a woman came on the loudspeaker to announce that they were going to check in with the actor, and then inform us whether the show would continue. Now that my friends and I knew the fall was real and accidental, we were freaked out. It was such a big friggin' fall. He landed so hard! My goodness, that made it the show far more entertaining than it would have otherwise been.
I can guiltlessly write these horrible comments now because, after a brief and disorienting pause from the show, the queen did in fact return to the stage to an uproarious round of applause. The actor was alright indeed, so I'm allowed to make fun of him, okay?
When the scene resumed, the queen back at her place in the rafters, she leaned precariously forward to deliver her lines. The audience gasped in horror, but we then noticed that his back was connected to a bungee cord so he could lean far out and look like he was floating.
So the whole incident came together in my mind, and then it was really funny. The crew had forgotten to attach the cord the first time around, so when the queen leaned forward, there was nothing to keep him from falling. So he just plummeted!
That was a classic blooper, and I'm so grateful I had my beloved co-workers there to enjoy it beside me.

Just another day

Just like any other.
Question: Is it wrong to give people decaf if you run out of regular coffee? I mean is it unethical? Do they ever know? I know better than to give regular to someone who wants decaf, but I'm not so sure it makes a difference the other way around.
Sometimes, when I work at night, I'll let the high-test brew run out so I can clean the pots, and I'll secretly serve decaf. At night, this is an ethically sound trick to pull, because drinking too much caffeine late at night isn't good for you, and will lead to jitters, headaches, insomnia, and lethargy the following day. So really, you're doing the customer a favor by not injecting him with an unnecessary dose of poison in the evening. That's how I see it. Does anyone else feel similarly?
I'd have to cite this as about the most subversive thing I do at work. As much as I'd like to be the rebel who pisses in the cappuccino of every bastard customer that walks through the door, I am simply too mature for that. So I pull a little switcheroo from time to time. So fucking sue me.

Customers Who Complain Should Die

I have no problem with the somewhat corny ideology about giving great customer service (eg. "going the x-tra mile at all times," etc.).
I have no problem with it because it works. It's all true. Everything they taught you kid, that you never wanted to believe, it's real. The concept is simple- be gracious, humble, aim to satisfy, correct your mistakes, leave your ego out of it.
My boss spent some time in Anne Arbor, Michigan, where this cafe/market called Zingerman's was founded. They put out a guide to giving great customer service, which is now required reading for all cafe employees.
There are some interesting tidbits within the pages of this tiny little yellow book. Today, I'll present to you (minus the book's nauseating wordiness) the chapter on responding to customer complaints. Apparently, there are only five steps involved.
1. Acknowledge the customer's complaint- the book suggests merely replying to their hideous tale of being served the soup with the toenail in it with a simple "Wow" or "I see" Just so the customer knows she's been heard.

2. Sincerely apologize- the ability to do this effectively might be something you're either born with or not. I, fortunately, am able to convince customers of my sincerity almost all the time. Sometimes I am sincere, others I am putting on the greatest show on earth. It doesn't matter, as long as the complainer feels that you understand her unhappiness and are sorry for it, even if it wasn't your toenail.

3. Take action to make things right for the customer. Like, get her a cup of minestrone without body parts in it- even give her the bigger size without charging extra! Sometimes I give out little coupons for a free drink, sometimes all she wants is a refund. There is usually a simple solution to the problem. All I have to do is ask what she would like me to do to fix the situation. Give the customer a teensy bit of power, and she'll be pleased.

4. Thank the customer for complaining- I don't do this very often actually. By this point I'm usually fed up and finding it harder by the nanosecond to feign sincerity, so the whole thanking thing might just push me over the edge.
I thank people for the following complaints- when the bathroom is flooded, when there's no more toilet paper, if their milk is rancid, if there's some unkempt area in the cafe, like a muddy floor, that could potentially harm someone.
These are all things that, after learning of and then fixing them, I do feel better about the shift, so the customer was kind of doing me a favor.

5. Write it up- Like have a special file where all complaints are kept track of. It's helpful to get people's contact information, note the date and time of the catastrophe, note which employee was handling the situation. The customer will also feel like she is being taken super seriously if she knows her complaint is going straight to a special file, so that upper-upper-management can look into it.

I find a lot of stuff in this book quite helpful and interesting.
It's Zingerman's Guide to Giving Great Customer Service by Ari Weinzweig (2004 I think)