Often I have fantasized about quitting my job and becoming, of all things, a Starbucks barista.
However, I’m afraid I might turn out like the poor guy I saw this morning. After the I-really-shouldn’t-but-dammit-I-want-one argument I always have with myself about going to Starbucks, I went inside to brave the long line. When I got to the register, I was greeted by a shaggy black-haired youth- nothing out of the ordinary. Unwittingly, I threw off him completely off course with my order for a tall soy gingerbread latte, no whip, no nutmeg. It became apparent I had found a Nervous Trainee, and the poor soul was suffering through his first morning rush. As soon as he took my order, he began to remind me a little of Tweek. He fidgeted with the tip box. He looked at the barista stand nervously. He started to shout down the order, but it degenerated into, “Uh, tall…gingerbread latte…SOY…no-whi…?…uh” and muttered something about having to “go tell them the rest, too many people.” Then he fidgeted with the tip box some more.
Hopefully, he’ll calm down with time…and less sampling of the product.