Today I stopped and got a cup of coffee before work. I stopped going to my old place of business a long time ago because the quality fell apart and all of my favorite people left. Now I go to a locally owned drive-thru. While nothing beats a shot of espresso brewed yourself and frothing the milk to perfection by hand, they are decent java slingers and super nice people.
So, I just got done at the speaker-box and I'm waiting behind this dark green jeep when I see the barista attempt to make contact with the occupants. He folds open his little windows and waits for a few beats while the driver rummages around. They make the exchange. I'm waiting for the signal to take my foot of the break when the barista, beginning to slide his window shut, is stopped suddenly. At this point, all I hear is someone yelling. I'm not sure exactly what she's yelling, but it's pretty obvious that she's upset. The barista, initially reacting with calm aplomb, leans back out the window. A few moments later, he begins taking empty, dripping cups from the the green jeep people. All the while, I can hear them screaming. It's indecipherable and it's angry. It's hitting this dude like bullets.
I'm just far enough away to be unable to make direct eye contact but still able to see every emotion flicker over his face. It's eight in the morning. This is probably the very first customer of his day and he's getting pelted with sopping, empty cups and being publicly berated by a stranger.
My heart goes out to the guy, and I immediately flash back to a few months ago when I was working at a coffee house. I remember how, despite all the little things I loved about the job, I always came home feeling discouraged that people thought I was less than they were. I was constantly down on myself because people would make comments about how I was "too smart to pour coffee" and how I "should get a real job". I remember how, because I was a server, people treated me like a servant. I remember getting screamed at by people who ordered macchiato and became enraged when they got a stained espresso shot instead of some franchised bullshit bitter shot and cheap syrup orgy. I remember being treated like an imbecile by people who asked me to put sugar in their "expresso". I remember how all the things I loved about the job couldn't make up for the fact that a lot of people are cruel and miserable and uncaring. I remember how--on the worst days--I would take little breaks to cry in the bathroom because I just needed, like, four seconds of quiet to put myself together.
I see him slink away from the window feeling a thousand different kinds of defeated--looking like someone sucked the life right out of his veins.
I slide my car into park, knowing it would be a minute.
When the green jeep's new order is up, a different barista came to the window. This time, the hand off is seamless. Green jeep drives away, ready to fuck someone else's day up full of vigor and caffeine.
I pull up to the window am immediately greeted with an extra dose of cheer and an immediate apology for "such a long wait". Check the clock--four minutes passed. Considering the machines I used took thirty seconds per shot, I'm pretty impressed. I tell him it's no big deal. I ask him what happened to the other barista; he says that he needed a minute.
My total is $4.75. I'm still a couple days from my paycheck and this is the last of my coffee allowance, but I give him the ten and tell him to make sure that barista gets it. I tell him it seems like it's been that kind of morning and that I know it's not much, but I hope he has a great day. He smiles, assures me it'll be taken care of, and that's it.
I go to work, hoping that pumps just a little bit of air back into deflated barista and saying a prayer that green jeep finds something to smile about today.
We're all fighting different battles, there's no need to be a dick about it.
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