I am quickly learning the art of being a barista. Having barely even brewed a pot of coffee before in my life, this job has declared a challenge for me. After a crash course in the drink making (in which I swear my “teacher” was speaking a different language) I was sort of thrown onto the stage as a “barista” (I keep using that word because it makes me feel so much more official).
Now, nothing will make you feel more clumsy than trying to take people’s highly specific drink orders as you balance in your mind the type of drink, the kind of milk, the size of the cup, the recipe for the drink…Interestingly enough I now find myself easing into the role and speaking the language that is coffee. This may be my only time in life that I feel similar to or relate to a bartender. I find that being a barista is in a sense tending to the “early morning bar”. People come up with their problems, stories, good and often bad moods, desperately in need of their drink, their caffeine, their little pick me up, to get their day started.
Oh but don’t worry, when I am at work I often find myself reinacting scenes straight out of a movie. Yes, I have brewed coffee into an already full pot, and yes I have turned around to find coffee spilling everywhere (everywhere!), and yes I have done this multiple times. (It is just so hard to remember to switch out the full pot for the empty one at 6 in the morning) I sometimes feel like I am actually getting more practice in the art of cleaning up coffee rather than the art of making it.
The point is that I really don’t have a point. I am just really starting to enjoy coffee. I feel like a part of a club or something being able to take orders and catch on to the lingo. And who hasn’t always dreamed of using the fun coffee equipment. Can you say skinny, decaf pumpkin spice latte, hold the foam, two extra dry cappuccinos and a light roast drip?