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)