A stunning--

This Monday morning was quite splendid, despite the fact that I was up two hours past my bed time the night before and opened at five thirty today. When we arrived at the coffee shop, everything outside was completely dark and clear, the solitary cars driving by on the street plainly visible. Within an hour, though, thick, dense fog invaded from the river, capturing all of the headlights. We couldn't see the first row of cars in the parking lot through the windows. 

But when the sun exploded above the opposing hill, the battle between the fog of predawn and the light of day began. It looked like a softer version of Sauron's, a far away orb casting its sight across the land, searching. The grey fog turned gold where the light soaked it, but remained silver-cold in the shadows. Slowly, the sun forced the two shades to meld, forming a soft mother-of-pearl color fog that clung to the grass and buildings by its fingertips, refusing to admit defeat. It hid behind cars and under trees, but in the end, the fog was vanquished and slunk back down to the cold river. 

That may have perhaps been a bit of a dramatized version of the morning, but I was stunned when the first few gleaming rays shot into my eyes. 

And speaking of stunning, I fell out of bed last night for the first time in many years. Granted, I was trying to climb down from my top bunk, but it was still a shock. This is my souvenir:

Pretty, ain't?

Rainy tidbits

I don't mind rainy days (as long as no plans have to be cancelled), so I pleased to see a persistent drizzle when I woke up early this morning. I was also pleasantly surprised to discover that my windshield wipers actually work quite fine. I thought I was going to have to replace them, so that's twenty dollars saved.

I didn't so this. It was too cold at 5:00am.

Most of the customers this morning were good sports about the dampness, pulling up close to the window and trying to stay inside their cars as much as possible. Occasionally, I wished someone, "Stay dry!" as a farewell when the sprinkle changed to a downpour. The rain made the inside of the coffee shop cozy today, as a contrast to the shop's warm smells and soft orange lights, but I wouldn't have turned down a little more driving. Driving in the rain is always soothing to me.

And I also appreciate driving in the dark. I've discovered on my many early mornings when I open or my late nights when I close that I drive slower when it's dark. Generally, I make no conscious decision to; everything just seems a tad less rushed, and sometimes I have to remind myself that I do indeed need to keep up with the speed limit.

This morning, I left my apartment a few minutes later than usual, because I often turn up to the coffee shop ten minutes before I need to be there. This isn't necessarily a bad thing; I just thought I'd take a few minutes longer getting started today. However, as I drove down the streets, I found myself missing watching the people waiting for the bus. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one who has to be up and headed to work. Tomorrow, I think I'll have to go back to my original scheduling. Bus-waiters aren't exactly the same thing as regulars at the coffee shop, but I am starting to recognize some of them.

That time I worked early

People are strange, and this is what makes people watching so interesting. I went to a soccer game last night, and half the time I got distracted by the people in the stands. At work, it's quite entertaining to see who comes through. The other day, there was the guy who winked at me as he drove away from the drive through, and many people call me "Honey" when I work the drive through. Apparently I sound and look quite young. Today, some guy told me I was awesome as I handed him his drink; that probably was intended for the whole store though.

And then, of course, there's me. I often respond to the question of "How are you?" that the customer didn't actually ask; I just assumed that they would. And I mix up my words and say silly things all the time, like when I tell people to have a good day and try to send them off before I passed them their beverages. These things happen more often than I'd like to admit.

This morning, though, something happened that had never happened before. Around six thirty, a woman came to the speaker and ordered her drinks and a breakfast sandwich. She drove around to the window, and I greeted her and swiped her credit card. I turned around to take her sandwich out of the oven, and S., who was on bar at that time, said, "Wait, where did they go?"

What?

There was no car at the window anymore. She had paid, but then left. S. and I looked at each other for a moment, wondering what to do, but then we heard the Ding that signaled a car at the order speaker. Before we could say any greeting, they came right past it to the window. The woman from the previous order looked out up at me and said, "Did you see how I just drove off like that? I must really need that coffee!"

Just an ordinary day

This morning was the first time that I drank my own coffee. As one of the benefits of working at the coffee shop, I get a free pound of coffee a week. However, I haven't needed it since I started working, because my parents' house was always fully stocked. Therefore, I have been giving it away each week, sometimes to friends, sometimes to old professors. Last Friday, though, I moved out of my parents' house into an apartment with a few girls. I'm now all grown up! And this morning, I drank coffee made from this week's pound of coffee for the first time. I think I can get used to this.

I would consider buying this

At work today, I was on the espresso bar, meaning that it was my job to make all of the drinks that came through the shop. If there are lots of drinks at once and other baristas aren't busy, they usually take the cold drinks, the ice teas and blended drinks, and make them, leaving the bar barista only the espresso drinks to worry about. But at multiple times during the day, there were only three of us on the floor, one to tend to the customers inside the cafe, one to work the drive through, and one to make drinks. The line of drinks got longer and longer, and as I raced from first the espresso bar to the blenders and back again, I realized that I did not like the feeling that no matter how fast I worked, it wouldn't make a difference.

Eventually we pulled through. Several gallons of milk later, we three all looked at each other and took a breath, enjoying the silence of the drive through and the absence of waiting customers inside. I tried to calm down, because rushes and business and the awful feeling to being behind stresses me out.

And then I had a revelation: being on bar is great, but it is not perfect. As the bar barista, time seems to go fast, and I do not (usually) have to deal with difficult customers. All I have to focus on is the next drink in line. But not dealing with customers means that I am free to be annoyed every time a new car pulls up to the drive through and orders a blended drink (they seem particularly time-consuming to make. Having to interact with people limits how frustrated you can get, because above everything, you cannot show any frustration. It is much more difficult to keep a bad mood when you have to pretend that you're in a good mood for other people. If only there was a way to be on bar until I began to get angry, at which point I would switch to taking orders. It might be counter-intuitive, but I think it would work

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.