Life at Starbucks

I am working part-time at Starbucks in addition to teaching.

I need the extra money, trying to save a bit. You know the drill.

Some days I am in more desperate need of a nap than I am in need of a Starbucks shift but I often find that once I am there I rise to the occasion and in fact have fun and become energized. That is until I get home, immediately kick off my Dansko clogs and with a sigh, plop down on my sofa in exhaustion.  I love the people who work with me and sometimes have more fun than one should at work. The work is physically challenging though. I keep telling the young staff to take it easy on me because, “I’m old you know!” but they too seem tired at the end of a shift. I suspect that I have one of the best sets of biceps of any women in my age category in Charleston because of all the coffee server hefting, the ice swigging, the frappuccino pouring, the gallon-milk container hauling.

 

Starbucks really is a culture unto itself. From the people who come in one can sense a loyalty. There exists a camaraderie likened to the inside, private-club membership type. They seem almost honored that we remember what they drink. Some are an absolute delight to see and some, when spotted walking toward the door elicit a sound from us that can only be translated as, “ugh.” Let me introduce you to some of the frequent and not-so-frequent visitors at “my” Starbucks:

 

*Red Sox Harry (Grande Mocha Frappuccino Light).

The first time he walked in wearing his Beantown baseball cap it was friendship at first sight. Every time he comes in he updates me on last night’s score, the standings, who’s pitching tonight. And we both agree adamantly that Johnny Damon is indeed, going to hell.

 

*Jaguar Keith (Grande “Awake” Tea “for Here”).

Keith drives a beautiful, red Jaguar XJ6 (my dream car since about 1976). I am teased by my co-workers because he flirts unabashedly with me and just the other day as we chatted about his Jag, he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride. I just might. But Keith is from the U.K., and I can barely understand a word he says. But he hates George Bush, so who needs to communicate anything else?

 

*Homeless Howard (Short Brewed Coffee).

We don’t really know that much about Howard except that he will always be paid “tomorrow.” He comes in and asks for a “complimentary” cup of coffee. Some of us have given it to him and some have not. When we don’t he goes into the men’s room and pees in the corner. The revenge of the wretched. The local police have issued a “no loitering” warning but I do not know if the request for such an order came from Starbucks or the grocery store near to us. I have seen him panhandling for donuts there. Anyway, we haven’t seen Howard in a while.

 

*The man with the wadded up $20.

This man came in one Sunday morning (by the way…as every restaurant service worker knows, the Sunday morning “Church crowd” is the grouchiest, grumpiest, most unfriendly collection of people of the week…must be all that fire and brimstone rhetoric that puts them in a bad mood). The man ordered and then threw a wadded up twenty on the counter like he was playing Jacks and bouncing the ball. I picked it up, smoothed it out, looked into his face and said an emphatic, “THANK you.” When I returned his change I handed it back to him in his hand with an obvious flourish.

 

*The Woman Who Waited Seven Minutes Dammit (Grande Mocha Frappuccino).

This woman actually approached the register and said to the counter person, “You know I have been waiting SEVEN MINUTES to order.” Oh REALLY? We’re sooo sorry.  But thank you for proving Einstein's Theory of Relativity to me because it seems like so much less than seven minutes when you are behind the counter working your ass off just to get you your drink, you self-serving, precious, spoiled, self-important, how-would-you-know-how-many-minutes-it’s-been-when-you-have-been-talking-on-your-cell-phone-the-whole-time Bitch.

 

*Dr. Porsche, the cardiologist (Grande 2% Toffee Nut No Whip Latte) who is sleeping with his receptionist (Don’t ask me how I know. I just know) and who is always on the phone. One imagines that while he waits for his Grande 2% Toffee Nut Latte he is at that very moment saving lives, approving refills of life-saving prescriptions, talking to patients about the life-saving properties of St. Joseph’s Aspirin for Children. (Hey! Aren’t they orange? Might have to get me some o’ that). 

 

* Woman and, arrggghhh…for the life of me I cannot remember her name right now (Half-Caf Venti Five Pump Sugar-Free-Hazelnut Two Pump Cinnamon Latte) who is wonderfully pleasant and who comes in every day and spends a fortune in Lattes. But, who drops a Five Dollar Bill into the tip jar to cover herself for the week.

 

*After-Work John (Venti Brewed Coffee) whose face absolutely lights up because I remember his drink and ask him, “Can you wait four minutes? I’m about to brew fresh.”

And I know he can because he always sits for thirty minutes and reads the paper.

 

*Brian (Grande Brewed Coffee) Chivalrous Clinical Psychologist. Always gentle, happy to see me. Unexpected friend and champion; Slayer of others' demons; Quixotic dreamer of Impossible Possibilities; Healer of Wounded Psyches; Coffee Lover Extraordinaire.

 

* The Students, both former and present who come in and are genuinely and delightfully surprised to see me. Just yesterday (which was an exceptional day for student encounters), there was David who recently graduated and is going to Medical School. He was meeting a family with whom he was applying for summer employment as mentor and Big Brother to their son. He introduced me to them, told them I had been his religious studies professor and then said, “Doesn’t she look divine?” (Who knew?). And Kelly who I haven’t seen for two years, who adores me and was conducting a business meeting in the café. When she spotted me she could hardly contain herself. I motioned to her with my fingers to my lips to finish her meeting and we would speak later. When her meeting was over she rushed up to me and hugged me so passionately my feet left the floor. And dear Hannah, whom I love and haven’t seen for a year; Hannah, who laughs at all of my jokes, lives in NY city and took five courses with me even though she was NOT a Religious Studies major. And Tim, who will one day win The Masters Tournament, knows I work there, saw my car and just "had to come in to say hi." And Dru (to whom I ran to hug) who took the first course I ever taught at the college and was the first ever "Doire Groupie."

 

*The Italians (Doppio Espresso, Grande Vanilla Bean Frappuccino, Grande Blackberry-Green Tea Frappuccino in “for here” Cups, and a Cup of Ice). This is an entire family of six (two younger men, one old man, a woman, a baby, an adolescent boy and a dog) who recently moved from Italy presumably to open an alleged pizza parlor. They camp out on the patio and sit at the tables and chairs sometimes long after the closing shift has left for the night. Occasionally, when in a celebratory mood they bring a bottle of liquor (hence the ice), a smooth, glistening, creamy, more expensive version of Frangelico. Don’t tell my manager but one day they shared a few inches with my co-worker and me. Whenever they are there and I am working, I change the speaker music to Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett. They told me that they love "Frankie."

 

*Alex (Venti Caramel Macchiato) mutual friend of a former lover who told me that the cookies I once baked for said lover were so much better than Starbucks’ cookies.

 

*The man who never smiles (Grande Mild Brewed Coffee), not even on Father’s Day with his adorable daughter in tow.

 

*Jim (Grande Brewed Coffee, Cup Discount) to whom I have given a religious studies “reading list” and who always wants to talk about the Gnostic Gospels.

 

*The woman (Grande Vanilla Latte) who is as tensely wound as a ball of string, agonized by life, closed up, tight-lipped and has the most fabulous handbags I’ve ever seen.

 

*Bill (?) The old man who comes in every Tuesday and Thursday morning and who has told us that his Venti coffee and low-fat blueberry muffin are his reason for living. And because we are such humanitarians and are committed to the promotion of life, we always make sure we save a muffin for him.

 

*Lee (Tall One-Pump Mocha 2% Misto) the gloriously stylish, delightful, gay. black man with whom I share secrets and romantic mishaps. We keep promising each other that we will meet for coffee when I am not working.

 

*The old woman, always alone (Two Venti 2%Milk 120 degree Vanilla Lattes) who spends $8 a day on drinks and presumably takes one home to some other mysterious Venti 2%Milk 120 degree Vanilla Latte lover.

*Patrick (Double Tall Caramel Macchiato) multiple dry cleaning establishment proprietor and hot Latin who last week, as I handed off his drink at the pick-up station looked me straight in the eye and said, “Did you put your finger in that?” I said, “No!” To which he replied, “Could you?”

(sigh).