In which I play with chalk

Doing things for the first time seems to be the norm these months since graduation, and today, I got to add another activity to the First Time List: redoing one of the menu boards. The time had come for us to change the focus from the new mild roast coffee to our special sale on our blended drinks. Since the girl who usually rewrote the boards wasn't at the shop this morning, I got to try my hand at it.

And we use chalk markers!

The copy for the board was basic information about the promotional sale, but the choice of colors was left to my own discretion. And, I confess, I tried a couple combinations and had to wash the board several times before I figured that the white, green, and pink seemed to work best together. I probably took longer on the menu board that was truly necessary, but I wanted it to be well-done. After all, if it didn't turn out well the first time I tried my hand at board writing, I most likely wouldn't get a second chance.

For all my care, though, once we hung the board back up, we saw that the writing was a touch slanted. Rather than taking the board back down and rerwiting the whole thing, we merely shifted the paper picture of the drinks beside the writint to match. It wasn't too shabby, if I say so myself.

Not on the subject of coffee

I have done the impossible: I have read, and enjoyed, Jane Eyre. I first read Charlotte Bronte's book when I was nine or ten or somewhere around there, and the crazy woman in the attic gave me nightmares for a long time. A year or two after that, I thought, "I am older and wiser. I will try to listen to the book on tape." But again, I had bad dreams. And yet, a few more years later, I thought, "I am older and wiser now. I will watch the movie." And so I watch the 2006 mini TV series of Jane Eyre...and had nightmares.

Ruth Wilson as Jane

After watching the movie, I finally learned my lesson and swore I would never again try to read, listen to, or watch Jane Eyre. For many years, I stayed faithful to the lesson I had learned.

But my college roommate loved Jane Eyre, and I could not completely brush away her opinion. Many times, she told me that I should give the book another try, and eventually, I relented, reasoning that I could put up with a few nightmares to prove to her that I should never have anything to do with the book.

However, I was not haunted by a lunatic Bertha Mason this time. Perhaps it was because I took care not to read late at night; perhaps it was because I was trying to understand why K., and many others, loved the story so much; perhaps I truly am older and wiser now. But whatever the reason, I have changed my opinion of Jane Eyre. It is a thrilling and passionate love story, not the horror tale that I have long thought it to be.

There is only one thing left to be decided: should I risk watching the movie?

The day of the crazies

Some days are weird. We had some very strange people at the coffee shop today. One lady at the drive through ordered three drinks in our smallest size, but when they were handed to her, she didn't believe that they were the same amount. Confused, she held them in her hands, comparing them. M. had to spend a little time assuring her that they all were indeed our small drinks. Eventually, she drove away, but I am not certain that she believed him.

This was her.

Another woman called in the afternoon, looking for our manager, who happened to have left work a few hours earlier. Over the phone, the lady fiercely complianed that she couldn't reach the manager, although she was blatantly ignoring the fact that she had been clearly told when the manager would be in the store. She yelled at A., the shift supervisor on duty, telling A. that the store needed to donate coffee to the woman's golf outing the next day that was scheduled for the next day. However, even managers can't ok donations, and certainly not ones on such short notice, so all A. could do was try to explain while taking the anger of the woman.

Another difficult person came later, choosing the drive through over entering the store. This was a silly choice on her part, because drive throughs are for people who do not want to linger, who want to get done as soon as they can. This woman did not care about accomplishing anything quickly; she simply didn't want to hoist herself out of her car. She commenced to vicariously shop our retail cups and tumblers from her car by forcing M. to walk out into the cafe and read her various prices. Once she finally chose our largest cold cup, she ordered a hot coffee/chocolate drink, but she asked for it to be put in her new cup. M. explained that she had chosen a cold cup and that putting hot liquids in it would damage it. "Oh, so, you probably just answered this question, but  I couldn't put it in the microwave?" queried the woman through the speaker. Carefully, M. replied that no, she shouldn't try that.

Once she finally understood, the woman agreed to have the coffee and chocolate concoction be made cold instead. We thought things were finished after M. gave her her total and told her to drive around to the window. No such luck. When she reached the opening, she determinedly said that she wanted each purchase wrung separately for some reason that was unknown to us. And lastly, once her drink and newly purchased cup were passed out the window, she handed it back, demanding that S. put more milk into the drink to fill it the whole way to the top, ignoring the facts that the cup was made for a bigger sized drink and that she had only paid for a medium. S. complied despite the knowledge that the proportions in the drink were now skewed, though, because the customer is always right.

Towards the end of the night, A. remarked, "Everything's weird today. It's like everyone is walking around with a knife in their back and wincing as they move. It's just a strange day." M., S., and I agreed.

This isn't really about Emily Blunt

Suddenly, I am not the newest barista at the coffee shop. A new partner just started this week, which is a good thing, since two girls are leaving in July and another one in August. There are several pairs of shoes that will need to be filled soon, and it will take a long time and many hours of practice before any sets of feet will actually fit well. Back to the subject at hand, she started on Monday at ten o'clock in the morning, and from the moment she walked in and said that she was there to start her first day, I thought she looked like a taller, thinner-face, more nervous version of Emily Blunt. I'm leaning toward the idea that it's the shape of M.'s mouth and nose that remind me of said famous actress, but I'm not quite sure.

She doesn't know what to say to that.

M. seems like she will do well at the coffee shop, because everyone else, I'm sure, was nervous and a little in the way when they started, but we all figured it out eventually. I now know what all of the other baristas must have seen when I began. I'm sure that I looked just as out-of-place only seven weeks ago, and now look at me. I have overcome my terror of the drive through, I can make a delicious latte, and I'm an accomplished cleaner, although that may not be a credit to the coffee shop.

When my store manager told me early Monday morning that I wasn't going to be the "new" barista anymore, I smiled and replied, "That's good, because I now know everything." I've never heard her laugh so hard.

It's inspiring work

It seems that in every workplace, there is that one employee who puts all the others to shame with his or her work ethic. When I worked at the sandwich shop last summer, I was most impressed by Debbie, a middle-aged woman who only worked weekday nights. She was diligent and polite and a quick worker, and we had many pleasant conversations. Many of the kids I worked with also liked her and looked up to her.

A Cappuccino! Because I didn't know what other picture to use

The coffee shop where I work now is very different from the sandwich shop. People who work there are not just working for a summer, and they really care about the job and the customers. While they may sometimes take a few minutes to pause and chat with customers or each other, no one slacks off. At the sub place, there were the employees that you did not want to get stuck working with because you would end up doing your assigned work and at least half of theirs as well. 

It is not so at the coffee shop. Everyone does what they need to, and I have seen many times how people are more than happy to help others with what needs to be done. In fact, this afternoon, I noticed how well another partner was working, and I wondered if she could be the shop's Debbie, the hard worker who would inspire me. The more I thought, though, the more I realized that other partners were similarly inspiring. Not all, but many, and even the ones that weren't were willing workers. 

Someday, I hope to be a worker that someone looks at and is inspired by.