Working at Starbucks

So, two and a half years ago, I became a barista. Approximately two years ago, I quit.

I’ve never sat down and written about my experience there, so here goes it. I remember having applied to Starbucks during every annual round of my adolescent job-hunting experience. It wasn’t until 2015, after I’d worked for two food-related employers, that I got a call back. I sat down and had an interview with the store manager at a Starbucks very close to my house. I remember when I recounted the experience to my boyfriend, he’d said that 15 minutes for an interview was short – that half an hour to an hour was more usual. I totally get that now, however, I don’t think I had much to say nor ask then, and likewise with them. Two weeks passed, and I stopped expecting anything from them – but I was called by another nearby Starbucks and I seemed to understand that I would have an interview with a different manager, since the manager at the Starbucks close to my house wanted to hire me. It was pretty snappy. I think they just want a second opinion on whether I was sane and presentable. Glad to think I am.

Green apron time.

Training was… confusing. A bunch of recipes on cards were thrown at me, and I studied them like I was in school. I was grateful for the bit of on-the-floor training I got (as well as the free drinks and one food item per day), but it felt quick. I walked onto the floor for the first time after training not knowing exactly what was what, but after a few weeks, everything felt engrained. And hey, I was memorizing people’s names and drinks! That one dude that always ordered a triple espresso iced, with 1.5 pumps white mocha and 1.5 pumps caramel, breve on top. The lady who wanted an Americano with four shots, two long and two regular. The man who wanted a simple decaf non-fat latte in a personal cup. The nuances and specifics. It becomes second-nature, and there’s a certain pride that comes with knowing that you know what is expected, and beyond. I remember thinking it was ridiculous that memorizing specific people’s regular orders seemed like part of the job. But it just happens with a little effort. It becomes a game. Not a fun game, but a game.

Pretended to graphic-design with the chalkboard displays.

The next six months were a blur of waking up at 2:45am, likely getting off at noon or before, blazing hot summer sun, the shriek of the milk frother, and hectic Frappuccino-crafting. Oh, gosh. The morning rushes that would occur daily, and the Frappy hours that I got to take part of after I learned how to do mid and closing shifts. You really learn that a routine is important, you have to move quickly and consistently, and double-check to make sure you’re creating the correct drink. (There's so much room for error if you interpret a CH as a CM for a cup code.) Opening shifts were so early, but half an hour is killed by restocking and setting everything up in the pastry case, by arranging them nicely and half-heating up the sandwiches that get thrown out at the end of the day.

Even landed a partner of the quarter award, woot.

I was a youngin’ when I was working there, but definitely not the youngest. I was freshly twenty-years-old, while working alongside with both older folk and high-schoolers. I think it felt strange not being the youngest, because that’s what I was used to. But as long as everyone is doing their job and cooperating, nothing really feels different. It was definitely a job I see as looking back at and thinking, “That is a good young person’s first job.” You learn that you have to learn to keep up. You learn to deal with people. I always say it, but you deal with plenty of people, and their attitudes. But I am grateful for that, because that is something I have to do to this day. If somebody yells at you for getting their drink wrong, it ain’t personal, dawg. If an old retired lady shows you pictures of her gardening hobbies, it’s cute and endearing.

I'll miss getting this for free!

And so, I completed my life-long wish to become a barista. Just kidding. It was fun to make drinks and experiment with recipes. Makes you kind of feel like a creator and you can become one with the espresso machine. It was also fun to drink coffee, but I also learned an unlimited supply of caffeine makes me crash and cranky like no other. But I'll still have it now and again, at times when I walk into a Starbucks and feel like I have an inkling of an idea about what goes on behind the Marzocco.