Here's the thing about Mondays

If you have the right job, then they're really not that bad. For instance, if you're in a service position, you can focus on being friendly to everyone, because, let's face it, everyone is sympathizing with everyone else because it's Monday. Everyone has the odd feeling of being back at some place they had forgotten about while they were gone.

And, of course, it doesn't hurt to have gone to a WWII D-Day reenactment the Saturday before and still have lots to think about.

My friend B. and I drove up to Lake Erie to watch the storming of Omaha Beach; we had gone last year, and the trip had been so successful, we resolved to go again. Dressing up in as much vintage clothing as we could find, we helped to portray the home front to match the soldiers.

We met our friend E. up there. He was the one who first suggested we attend last year. Although we were able to pick him out on the beach previously, we couldn't find him in the action this year.

A group of men getting instructions. I believe they were being told that they had to follow the cadence of the skinny redhead up front. 

One of the planes the flew over the battle. The beach was rigged with tiny explosions that went off with much smoke as the planes crossed over, mimicking bombs

Running up the beach.

More soldiers.

A soldier waiting for reinforcements before storming up the hill to take the German camp.

And that was that. An excellent day.

It was like this all day

*Ding!*

Me: Good afternoon. My name is Bonnie. What can we get started for you?

Customer: Hi...um, I have one of those receipt coupons for a grande cold drink for only two dollars?

Me: Sure. What can we get for you?

Customer: Ok, well, I'd like a grande black tea with the lemonade.

Me: Ok, would you like that sweetened?

Customer: No, but I got two drinks this morning. Can I have another?

Me: Well, you need two receipts to use two coupons. Do you have two receipts?

Customer: Yes. I'd like another black tea lemonade but unsweetened.

Me: Sure. Is that everything for you?

Customer: Yeah, I think that's it.

Me: Ok, I'll have your total for you at the window.

*Customer comes around the the window*

Me: Hi, how are you today?

Customer: Here's my receipt. So it'll be about four dollars, right?

Me. Right. Do you have your second coupon?

Customer: No, I only have the one receipt, but there are two drinks on it, see?

Me: I'm sorry, but we can only do one coupon per receipt.

Customer: Oh. Ok. Well, then just give me one of the teas.

Me: Sorry about that. Would you like the sweetened or the unsweetened one?

Customer: The unsweetened.

Me: No problem. (to the barista making drinks) Don't make the sweetened tea, just the unsweetened one. (back to customer) That's $2.12.

*Money changes hands*

Me: Ok, and here's your grande black tea lemonade unsweetened.

Customer: Unsweetened? No, I wanted it sweetened.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry about that. Let me fix it for you.

*sweeten the previously requested unsweetened tea*

Me: Alright, here you go.

Customer: Thanks! You have a great day.

To everyone who uses a drive through

Please take note: we do not work at service windows because it is a good place to get picked up. Mostly, we work for the sake of working, although it's true that sometimes we work because we enjoy it. Sometimes, we like our coworkers. Sometimes, customers can really brighten up our day and make us remember that service jobs aren't as bad as their reputation.

But when you turn up your music, groove around in your car, and try to get us to dance with you, then it's a little uncomfortable, especially when you happen to be a fifty-year-old man we do not know. And calling us "Darling" won't make us want to humor you at all. It creeps us out a bit.

And while we're at it, tips are great. But unusually large tips that are specifically directed to one of us who has done nothing out of the ordinary for you make us wonder if you have an ulterior motive. Even if you are a  woman in your early thirties. Then we just don't know what to do.

Do I look like I'm in the mood?

Yes, we know we're stunning. Yes, we know we're charming. Yes, we know you customers like being always right. But, please, do not hit on us when we're working...

...unless you happen to be very very cute.

Boxes are fun

Tuesdays are very important days at the coffee shop, because our order comes on Tuesdays. Our order is our life. The truck brings everything that we need to operate, flavored syrups, chocolate and caramel sauces, cups, napkins, soaps (everything except for the milks and creams. Those come three times a week because we use so many). The supplies usually come every Tuesday between eleven and twelve, and when the truck leaves, there is a pile of some thirty or forty boxes that need to be put away.

But maybe not quite this many

Baristas S. and A. used to be the ones taking care of putting things on shelves, rotating the syrups and ingredients, and flattening boxes, but both girls left for other coffee shops a few weeks ago. For twelve weeks, I had curiously watched them tend to the shipments; most people seemed to dread the order and complain about having to take care of it. To me, though, it didn't seem any different than grocery shopping, and I told my supervisor that I'd like to give it a try. Accordingly, the next week, she assigned me the task of putting away the order. And, to even my surprise, I enjoyed it.

There was something about the challenge of fitting everything into the tiny back room of the shop that appealed to me. Things had to be condensed into small spaces, juices had to be moved around, boxes had to be placed on the very tip-tops of shelves. To me, it seemed like a puzzle, a game of trying to see how neatly I could arrange everything. I lost a round if I had to split up the vanilla syrups or put some of the mocha on a different shelf. I won if I was able to fit everything in the space available. And then there was the treat of flattening all the boxes and recycling them at the end. Finishing gave me a type of happy energy, despite the large amounts of effort the task had taken.

And this week, they let me play again! And I won even more rounds this time.

The not-so-new-girl

This girl, this one that started working at the coffee shop for the first time on April 23 of this year, was training someone today.

Although, perhaps that statement shouldn't be that impressive since it was sort of an accident.

Originally, the new guy, A., was supposed to be learning how to work the drive through this morning, and usually new baristas train only with shift supervisors. When there is a new person on the floor, we usually have two shift supervisors at the shop, one to train and one to run the shift. However, this morning, we only had one shift supervisor, and she was scheduled to working with A. Unfortunately, shift supervisors have their own duties, completely unconnected to any training. Shift supervisors that are in charge are always stationed at the front register. This gives them the freedom to see to the pastry case, the bank deposit, make any necessary calls, and solve the little problems that turn up.

What with setting up the tills and organizing the day, the shift had to choose between showing A. the ropes or doing what she, as the shift supervisor, was supposed to do. So, she assigned me the task of keeping an eye on him. And I, with all my two and a half months' worth of knowledge and a strong memory of my terrible fear of the drive through headset, took A. under my wing.

And by that, I mean, I did what other people did for me, easing him into working the window, then the order-taking, then both together. And he picked up it quite quickly. He was not afraid to ask for a little extra help, and he wasn't too proud to tell customers that he was new and thank them for their patience. I think he's well on his way to making a rocking barista, and I'd like to think that my expert training skills had something to do with it, but that might not actually be true.

Anyway, I am not even close to being the new girl anymore, and I like it.

Speaking of New Girls, I miss this show

Ooops

You know how you recognize something and comment on it to show that you recognize it...and then you realize that you were completely mistaken? I did that today.

Poor bunny

I was working the drive through, and this kid pulled up to the window. As I took his money, I recognized his light yellow and grey shirt as one that Geneva put out many years ago (I happen to have one myself, but it's something like a triple hand-me-down). The minute I handed him his change and said, "Nice shirt!" he shifted, and I realized that any word that ends in "-ell" cannot be "Geneva." I fled, hoping he wouldn't think I was flirting, but I'm not sure how well that worked out for me.

Thankfully, he drove away without trying to make more conversation. That's the beauty of the drive through. One minute they're there talking to you, and the next they have gone.

"Is this how time usually passes? ...Really...slowly?"

Usually, I would rather open at the coffee shop than work any other shift, despite the fact that means I have to be in the parking lot by 5:30am. When you get done with work by 2:00 in the afternoon, there's so much day left to read or write or hang out or do things that you need to do. Finishing working at 5:30pm or 10:00pm or even 11:30pm does not leave room for this. True, those shifts start later, so technically there is time in the morning, but it is much harder to accomplish things when you always have to be aware of the impending time. 

Also, I've found that the opening shift seems to go quicker. The first three hours fly by, and then it's time to take your ten minute break. Another hour or so, and then it's lunch for half an hour. But then--then there are hours five and six to deal with, and they just drag. I don't know what it is about the time between ten and twelve. Perhaps it's because you don't really know whether to think, "Gosh, I've already been at work for four and a half hours," or "Gosh, I only have three and a half hours left." Neither of those seem particularly encouraging.

But then twelve o'clock hits, and it's all downhill from there. Not only does business seem to pick up, people getting their lunch time coffees or getting out to do afternoon shopping, but the minutes go quicker. You look at the clock, and it's been twenty minutes since you last checked, even though you could have sworn it was only five. I guess The Doctor is right when he says that time isn't a straight line. "It's more of a big ball of wibbley-wobbley, timey-wimey...stuff" (Season 3, Episode 11, "Blink").

Watch his mouth. He actually says that.