Iqaluit, Nunavut: This is where your coffee girl lives now. Land of snow. Land of ice. No espresso or lattes in sight. If you really want a coffee, be prepared to make it yourself. Or check out one of the two teeny-tiny Tim Horton’s Self-Serve stations at the grocery store; complete with milk and sugar dispensers. At $2.50 for a medium double-double, I decided to skip it as a part of my daily routine. Iqaluit also has the local “Grind and Brew”, actually I am just down the road from it, right on Frobisher Bay. But they don’t just serve coffee here; instead of a donut or muffin, you can get pizza, pad thai, forty chicken wings, pop and chips and all-you-can-eat-chinese food. As I opened the door, a wave of oily batter wafted over me so I turned on my heal and made myself a strong cup of Tetly and watched the sun rise from home.

What is a retired Coffee Girl to do? After five years slaving away behind the bar, losing feeling in my limbs from standing and pouring all day, listening to customers and reciting schmooze, I jumped at the chance to finally hang up my apron for good. There really isn’t an opportunity for me, or anyone, in the coffee business up here. At $10.99 for a bag of milk, a daily latte is more than a treat, it’s an investment. Most businesses close down from 12-1:30 so people can go home for lunch, and after the 5pm homeward-rush, the town is left for the winter snow ghosts. So long caffeine jitters…

I made the switch to tea. Without having big, shiny brewers in front of me first thing in the morning, the urge to guzzle coffee all day disappeared like the trees above the tree line. I suddenly found the task of making coffee waaaaay to labour intensive. Oh dear, I was start to imagine obstacles and develop a Case of the Lazies, just like my worst customers I left behind. Though, my new routine of staring our the window, doing a whole lot of nothing, sipping chai or vanilla rooibos, very relaxing… Argh. Arctic living is just too expensive I needed to get a new job, quick! After sending out piles of resumes all over the city, I got hired full-time at…A DAYCARE?!

My “customers” are now under 3 and just as particular, picky…with a lot more mess! I thought the cafe floors could get dramatic, but nothing beats the shenanigans of the terrible twos. Too foamy? Too hot? My coffee customers would request a re-make, but in daycare the milk spills with tears and the plates clatter to the floor. I didn’t know how many places crumbs could get stuck, or how such tiny little beings could produce such high-pitched screams; they sound worse than a screaming pitcher of un-aerated milk! I am also astounded at the endless rivers of snot that can come out of their stubby noses. After my first two days there, I wake up for work with a sore throat, stuffy nose and two cases of Pink Eye…but there is no such thing as calling in sick in this business. The Shit Show must go on!

Not only do my wee customers not speak English yet, they don’t understand English at all! I am living in a small Inuit community and Inuktitut is language of communication. I have to rely on elaborate charades and hand-gesturing-like-a-paranoid-ninja to try and get my important points across: I feel like a bossy ogre, my heightened customer service-vision and hearing is always on! I am quickly learning Inuktitut and can say all the important Mommy-type words like “Sit down”, “Time Out!”, “Be Gentle”, “Poo-Poo”, “Come here”, “Lunch TIme”, plus all the animals of the arctic. A++ for me in Inuit baby-talk. Cause as I learned in the coffee business, you must think like your customer in order to provide consistent and quality service. That means building igloos that will immediately get knocked down, getting jumped on and tugged at from every part of my body, having my face painted and poked…and after every exaggerated movement I make, hearing “AGAIN AGAIN!” chirping up at my from every direction.

Stepping out to get some fresh sub-zero air is no longer as easy as it used to be. Each child enters the center with at least 5-6 accessories: snowsuit, seal-skin hat, beaver mittens, kamiks (boots), neck-warmer, face-warmer, etc. that by the time I figure out how to assemble and properly place each item on the correct child, it’s almost time to come back inside again! Break times are spent climbing piles of snow, pointing over and over again at airplanes, and me worrying that all the children are going to perish from frostbite and then I’ll get sued from angry parents accusing me of not bundling their precious bundles of joy (and snot) up enough. Though now that the days are getting sunnier and warmer (-15C instead of -40) I spend my mornings going tobogganing down giant, icy mountains. I am getting arms of steal pulling those wobbly-legging-mini-beasts back up to the top to the chorus of “AGAIN! AGAIN!”. By the time we return to the center, unbuckle them from their leashes (yes, I walk them all in a very slow, sad-looking line to the park) and take them out of the Amauti (the children can ride on my back in the hood), the day is half-over! Sweeeeeet!

Working in the daycare is almost exactly like being a barista. Amidst keeping the kids happy and alive, there are also endless chores to be done and each day feels exactly the same random routine…yet with whole new can of worms that will be unleashed the moment I open that door at 7:45am. As soon as the floors sparkle, I’ll find a hundred more pieces of macaroni. As soon as one is asleep, another wakes up. Chocolatey fingers prints cover every surface…even when we didn’t serve chocolate at all!!! Though, being a Supervisor of Coffee taught me: Delegation is Key. WIth thirteen pairs of hands and feet, we can all work together to get the job done! Child labour can be practical and fun, right?!

Every day gets easier and easier…

But some days are just plain awful!

Other days, we just have to let loose and embrace the blues!

Because up North, from the outside it doesn’t look like there is much here. But if you are willing to put in the effort and make it, you can have your cake…and eat it too! Thank goodness the lovely, charming Inuk ladies I work with can’t live without their coffee, and make a fresh pot at least twice daily; it’s not a cafe, it’s out daycare brew! With my aching back, sore arms, runny nose and puffy eyes, this Coffee Girl needs coffee now, more than ever, to get my body through these Daycare Days…

TO BE CONTINUED…

I eagerly embrace change. Especially your loose change. Nothing pleases me, your Barista, more than a tip, even if it’s only pretty pennies. For me that change jar is the difference between a weekend out or just being lame at home, scrounging for canned tuna and pickles. But just like dinosaurs, flip-phones and movie rentals, loose change in my  jar is quickly becoming extinct.

A Brief History of Tipping (you can definitely find this information in your Encyclopedia…. or Wiki App):

PALEOLITHIC ERA (38 MlLLION BC)

Cave people shared meat and berries that were hunted and gathered. Tips were given in the form of back scratches, cave paintings and a series of creative grunts. If you didn’t acknowledge or show respect to your hunter then you might starve. Just sayin’…

ANCIENT EGYPT:

Like their advanced building skills, the Egyptians also had a thriving service industry. Cleopatra reportedly tipped her beverage slaves with gold and jewels. No tip = a cursed afterlife.

SOCRATES AND PLATO:

Socrates taught his student well: That tipping your wise advisors and fellows is ethical, especially if you want to experience the light beyond the cave. Socrates was full of helpful tips ;)

BOSTON TEA PARTY

High taxes meant less tips for coffee maids. How would you like your lattes poured into the ocean with rage?

JUMP TO THE 1950’s

Women leave the kitchen…and head to the the diner! More baking means more tips (but also serving the whole neighbourhood’s husbands!)

1960’s

Fighting for peace, love and rock ‘n roll took extra energy meaning an increase in hippie coffee shops opening up and more and more young women, students and minorities got serving jobs. With civil rights, came civil tips!

1990’s

Machines that brew for you. Baristas trained like robots. Giant coffee chains everywhere. More jobs. More Customers. More Bucks!!! (Tips reach ultimate high)

The Millenium

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! More and more plastic means…less and less kerplunk in our l’il glass jar.

2012: THE YEAR OF DOOM

It just doesn’t make sense to do away with Pennies! I bank on their being carelessly tossed, left on the floor, thrown out, or hidden in every cushion of our store.

Goodbye Pennies, Hello Ultimate Tip destruction: THE COFFEE APP. Because carrying your wallet to the cafe was just too heavy and hard to do during your lunch break, right? Well, I don’t sympathize! The App means no more swiping, just a quick scan. Customers and Baristas need not exchange cards, hands…or change. Thanks to your fancy phone, I can’t even pay by phone bill this month.

Throughout human the act of tipping as emerged, evolved and grown. Now that you have all the background tips, I have a few more to throw at you. Tipping isn’t just about the money but the silent acknowledgement that maybe you don’t think we are stupid dropouts, or amusing Barista-bots, and that you notice that we not only remembered your Non-Fat-No-Foam-No-Fun-Snooty-Pants-Latte, but we also know that you’ll come in at 8:57 in a panic and that your name is Suzy Snooty-Pants; maybe you just might know how many all-nighters we’ve pulled to finish our Arts and Humanities degrees and open the store on time. Even if you’re friendly to us just so we occasionally give you the Freebie, help us out and drop us a few. Don’t think of it as a tip, but as donation to the Struggling Students During These Tough Economical TImes Fund. Or better yet, design a Tip App that ensures that 100% of those coffee girls and boys out there get their 15%! I mean this with peace and love, and keeping the tips from becoming extinct. 

Thanks a latte, 

Clara B. 

Hey everyone, your *insert favourite item here* is FREE!!! 

Did you get off your chair and go running for the door? Of course you would, because it’s free. Duh! Besides Jesus, who doesn’t love freebies?! Nobody. Even with this common knowledge it still surprises me the obstacles that the Average Joe will endure in order to get his item, or average cup of joe, for FREE! Not having to fork over those dolla-dolla-bills makes FREE feel so…freeing. But it’s not just about the money or the product: How often would you take something, anything, just because there’s no fee attached. Free cucumber lemonade sample at the grocery store? I’m there! Free grasshopper green lipstick? I’m changing my style! Free free free!!! Where where where??? I’m all over that! Yup, we are as attracted to FREE just as these unemployed people were to doughnuts during the Great Depression: We want it bad.

Like you, I also love FREE. But also like you, I don’t really trust FREE. FREE never comes with freedom, but more likely a catch to eventually snatch more of your money. Why can’t FREE just be a friendly gesture? Because then we would be going backward, like cave men or a hunter/gatherer-communistical society, and no one wants that. Right.

As a Coffee Girl, I love some types of FREE but I also don’t understand the chaos of the other FREE. When a little old man forgets his wallet and I say “it’s on the house, sir!”, or a super-cute girl wanders through my doors and I whip her up a chocolatey smoothie “oh, it’s on me”, then I am grateful for the power of FREE, and that I can be that little cog in the corporation that cares and shares with the little guys, our old and attractive customers. 

But the massively marketed FREEBIES, the ones designed to get people filing into our stores in droves, that’s the kind I can’t wrap my mind around. All the wanting and waiting drives me crazy. A few times a year, my coffee company launches “BUY ONE GET ONE FREE” events (as though this time of year wasn’t busy enough all ready). The idea sounds sweet: best friends can save money and sip their favourites, a twin can order her drink and get one for her twin too, and a happy old couple can split the holiday classics without splitting into the pension. The Baristas in the cafe will greet all these people with a smile, assembling drinks with joy and happiness… If only.

If only our FREE obsessed minds would work a little more efficiently and friendlier. But under the influence of FREE people can make some, um, questionable judgment calls.  

Common Habits of those Highly Influenced by FREE:

• Will walk long, sometimes dangerous, distances 
• Can stand for unusual and inhuman amount of time
• Shakes and quivers in anticipation of….?
• Can make quick, strategic and constant calculations in his/her mind
• Tends to be monster tempered, overly excited, bleary-eyed and anxious 
• Often indecisive yet impulsive
• Prone to being upset with FREE
• Prone to being bitchy to people providing FREE
• Prone to continue to expect more FREE

How many FREE drinks do you need today?

Cheers,

Clara

November 2nd marked the beginning of Retail Holiday time, everyone’s favourite season! Unlike the Christmas TV specials where elves are rosy-cheeked and united together with their reindeer friends, and moles and foxes are BBFs and happily sharing gifts and nog, the atmosphere in my coffee shop is strained and, I fear, lacking that extra special cheer. Yes, I work for a massive corporation that has set-up camp on every corner and delivers the same sweet caffeinated bevies to the young and old, around the globe. But customers, please hear me when I say I am on your side! I have nothing to hide: I am an honest, hardworking barista just doing my job as much as the next guy in line. Yes I know I often rhyme about holiday time, so I decided to write a l’il letter to Mr. Claus.

Dearest Santa,

Please make my customers less suspicious and stressed out. Let them see the pastry-case light and understand that although I am wearing the holiday apron and I am in no other way connected to the corporate holiday train. They are ordering the expensive drinks, not me. Am I wrong when I smile brightly and follow the recipe? Please give me strength to comply to their demands, and give them the decency to understand that in the Western world Christmas comes earlier than planned. It’s not my fault, nor that of my manager. Nor should we blame little Jesus who once lay innocently sleeping in his manger. Did he know, could he foresee that he’d cause quite the seasonal birthday controversy?! I don’t care about people buying or giving and receiving. I care about making drinks, cleaning dishes, stalking lids, eating and breathing! 

Please Santa, when they grumble and groan, can you just make them go home? When they accuse me of slowness, or being too bubbly, or forgetting one item or more of that 100 beverage order, kindly lower their tempers, stop their hollering and remind them that the holidays have yet to be over. When I try to sell scones, cookies and muffins, I’m not trying to get a tip, I’m just offering advice, like a friend. Why, Santa, why must this season be so taxing? When I think of holidays I envision soothing silence, pyjamas, and somewhere much more relaxing. Why can’t we not all just be like the Whos, who go on anyway regardless of the size of their drink or getting a handed a brownie they didn’t choose? 

I am writing this letter to you early, Mr Claus,  because I think a wake up call is needed for all of Western society (or even just a slight pause). In the face of these tough economical times, the baristas and customers alike should be on the same peaceful side. If I swear I will deliver the bestest, most honest service, please bring calm to my customers, and no more greediness. I will sample extra hard and provide mini-drinks and bite-size morsels to the masses, so let this be the most restful and joyful holiday of them all, out of all the past Christmasses.

Sincerely,

Clara Button

PS: Santa, I put extra Kahlua in your egg nog latte; you deserve it!

The slow changing leaves marking the season’s rotation from fall to winter trumps the switch from crisp white to robust red, Rudolph-decorated coffee cups. As a retail coffee girl, it’s Christmas again! But in my opinion, as an Earth-dwelling citizen, it’s still autumn. Give pumpkins a chance! Let the ghouls howl a l’il longer, and let that Thanksgiving blend brew a l’il stronger. Yes, Christmas trumps everything again, and again, and again.

November 1 (my birthday) I left work and rode my bike home through autumn showers, wet leaves and the remnants of withered Jack-O-Lanterns. When I returned dark and early the next day, the store looked like an elf had barfed on it: tinsel, tassels, red and gold sprinkled everywhere. Low and behold all the Christmas merchandise was up on the shelves and memos on all those Holiday beverages I, once again, have to sell. 

What is about the same-old holiday scene? Yes, it’s comforting. Yes, it’s predictable. Yes, it’s oh-so-mistletoe traditional! I get it. It fuels these tough economic times, your children crave it, you’ve been saving for it. Though could it, should it, be different? And not to sound like Skeleton Jack, but every year it’s the same old thing, and I’ve grown so weary of the sound of screams…from the steaming egg nog. 

I’m not a Grinch or Scrooge and as a coffee girl I do enjoy the extra busy line-ups and different syrups to mix’n’match. But what if instead of the expected minty-chocolate, caramel and ginger that every store is now churning out, we came up with something new. Why can’t we revamp Christmas and make it uniquely cool?! I’m up for it, aren’t you?

My ideal store would feature these:

• Roasted Chestnut Latte with Orange Peel Zest
• Warmed-up Panatone with a side of cranberry sauce
• Celery sticks and soda water (because you are going to be over-eating everywhere else!)
• Cups coloured black and gray (in honour of daylights savings)
• Latke Latte (for those Jewish customers)
• Instead of Christmas blend coffee, let’s try Kwanza Blend!
• The store would decorated like an old barn, complete with a manger and hay covering the floor (perfect for soaking up the snow sludge as customers trudge)
• Advent Calendar? More like a 3-D Calendar of Dread, complete with an edible Santa display (eat all 23 elves, plus Mrs. Claus!)
• Pumpkin Lattes stay!
• All the prices will be lower: to attract more business and to give shoppers a break!
• Whiney kids will be banned, you know, to keep spirits up!

I’m going to follow the real season which will give me the reason to start celebrating winter when the time is right. I won’t put up a fight against mint and nog, because it is my job to serve it, after all. I’ll put on my red apron with a grin, and be extra sugarry and sweet, just like all extra drink calories. Christmas doesn’t come from the store, as we know. But making Christmas creative and special again would take a whole lot of unconventional will. So until I have the corporate world on my side, HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL…EVEN THOUGH YOU WON’T GET A VACATION FOR A WHILE! Mmmm…breathe in those cinnamon fumes! ACHOOOO!!!!

damn dawg. this blog is hilarious. i stumbled upon it by accident but i love your writing style man. i dont even drink coffee (tea ftw) but cool info, stories, cool shit here 

…and into the coffee shop! Here I am: Right back to where I started. I’m beginning to think this might be where I belong. Six years, three trips half-way around the world, and one degree later, I am once again behind the counter. Nothing has changed: the line-up out the door, my black clothes reek of espresso, and I’m surrounded by something brewing at every corner. Time just flew…who knew? Well, not me, apparently. 5 months away in Ghana looked, at first, like an eternity. And while our service industry is built on speed and satisfaction, over there you’re lucky to get service at all.

Typical Ghanaian “cafe”:

• Roadside stand with one long bench, or a few broken chairs piled on top of each other
• Choice of Nescafe, Lipton (English breakfast tea) or Milo (malt hot chocolate…soo good!)
• Large Ghanaian woman stoically churching out egg n’ breads, and slaving away over a strained hot plate in front of a queue of energetic locals
• Unless specified, your beverage will come with a least half a can of condensed milk, and a minimum of 7 heaping table spoons of sugar. (If you say you want “small-small” she’ll reduce the amount by shaking a teeny-tad of the heap off, and then continue loading ‘er up).
• Taking your beverage to-go means she’ll pour it into a little plastic bag and tie it up tightly for you, like she’s packing up a goldfish. Bite the corner, and suck out the delicious, milky goodness as you walk (careful not to fall into the gutter).
• Expect to pay to more than 1 Cedi (about 50 cents).
• There’s no menu. Ask, duh!
• Your order will taste different every day. Mmm, variety!
• Complaining won’t get you nothin’!
• If she doesn’t have it today, too bad for you! Sorry-ooooh!
• Your beverage can take anywhere from 5-55minutes so bring “War and Peace” just in case…

Yup, customer service in Ghana is easy on the server. Motto: you’ll get it when it’s ready, or when I feel like it, depending on what we have; you are welcome! Makes sense to me! I had no problem adjusting to that mentality, especially after years being yelled at, watching eyes roll, hearing matching mommies and babies whine, feeling rushed, sprits crushed…all for the sake of what? An expensive beverage, just for you. Hmmm…why? Obruni why?! (Obruni: white person/foreigner)

My first restaurant experience in Ghana wasn’t pleasant. They took forever to give me a menu. My chair was falling apart. It was hot and there were flies. When they finally came back to take my order and I pointed at what I wanted the two ladies said, “Oh, it is finished!”. “What about that” I pointed to a picture of chicken and rice. “Finished”. “That?” I knew the answer: everything was finished. “Well, what do you have!?”. “Only fufu and light soup”. “Then what was the point of the menu?!”. To entice me to come back? I waited, disgruntled, for a long time. Until the servers came and sat with me. They started asking me questions about Canada, and telling jokes. It was fun. I told them about my job back home, and how my customers would be very angry if they had had my experience at this restaurant. They were shocked, and laughed. “But why? If food comes fast, there is no time to talk! And if you always have every food, then the food will become spoiled and be wasted!”. It’s true, I thought, we do throw out a lot of food at the end of each day. “But people have to get to work on time!” I retorted. “Oh Obruni, why? There is plenty of time to work. You people are always worried about working which is why you are sad”. I smiled.

Then I imagined if I applied my newly acquired Ghanaian service tips to my corporate coffee chain back home:

1. Instead of a pastry case full of items, there will be only one featured item
2. Your latte will come but only after we have had a conversation.
3. If you get mad, our staff will make jokes with you and provide African proverbs to make you feel guilty about being upset about stupid, mundane problems.
4. Work begins when it is time to work. 
5. The menu board is for decorative purposes only.
6. Your beverage will taste how it tastes, which is the way it’s supposed to taste. It’s no problem.
7. You are welcome.

That sounds about right. So while I physically said goodbye to Ghana, in my heart I am remembering the tips I learned. I totally laugh when the line-up gets long and when everything goes wrong. I treat every person like my friend, even if you stare and glare. Haha what’s wrong with you? Don’t worry, you’ll get your latte, after all it’s only coffee…

Yes I am back to where I started, but I won’t linger heavy hearted. Yes, it’s only coffee but right now that’s the job for me. Yippeeeeeee!

.

The doors are shut and barred. The brewers will brew no more. The espresso machines are cleaned and taken. Paper covers the windows. This cafe is gone now. Never to re-open. Just an empty shell.

Sweet sixteen and our little cafe had its last candle blown out for it. Sixteen years of memories, thousands of footprints and laughs, spilled drinks and blind dates, friendship and random connections have passed through our doors, and back out again. This store in Yorkville was only my home for a few months, but it was my local safe-place long before I worked here. My first stop off to class in morning, and my last stop of the night. It’s where I would play the game of Life with my roommate, taking up tables, sprawling out our fake money and cards, hiding away from the real world for as long as we pleased. My best Barista, Suz, later become my best friend and coworker. 

Yes, there are other cafes around the corner. Yes, we can make coffee at home. But there really isn’t another alternative to wonderful, humble Yorkville. The customers are…special. The tanned, sports-car-man, smiling as he gets a bazillion dollar ticket on his Ferrari-Lamborghini-hybrid, just to jump out for an Americano. The celebrity guests and pro-sports team seeking refuge in our crazy queues. The financial analysts and bankers, the business people and CEOs, all dolled up professionally, yet still make room for us in their routines; exchanging jaunty jokes, telling us to stay in school, or indulging our one -liners from the lines (we put the fun in hedge FUNd, haha). The warm, cuddly older women, who are like our mothers, and the obnoxious Bieber-esque highschoolers, who have become our little brothers. I’ll actually miss the rich, so rich they have never worked; their jobs consist of strolling around the corner to us, bossing us, making sure we making their drink perfectly, more for our sake than theres. Oh the princess-charmings who I dream I’ll marry. The horrible neurotics and yappy dogs, whose corpses I’d love to barry. Kidding! I’ll especially miss the down-to-earth business owners, the crazy-cool hair stylists, and swanky hotel employees who treat us like stars! Awww!

Most of all, I’ll miss my fellow Barista family. Making smoothies after hours, serving coffee arm in arm, and running like banshees around the neighbourhood. I get up because of them (texting me when my I snooze through my alarm), they made me laugh ‘til I cry, and they know how it feels to go into work with a double hangover, and essay and rent due on the same say. Scattering out over the city we will go, to other coffee shops, working our fingers to latte bone, running on nothing but caffeine. Nostalgia and stories will be replaced with new faces, unfamiliar places, and a race to memorize something new.

As I gaze over the gutted mess that was once, for a small moment in time, mine, my cafe, all I see is rubble, dust, disaster…nothing. I laugh as I look at my invisible espresso bar, aka my morning castle. But if I linger I will cry at how fast it all collapsed to an unfamiliar past. Maybe none of it really mattered after all. I, the little lost coffee girl, knows there are memories hidden in the walls, echos of Aretha’s voice hovering in the asbestus. And though I’m embarking on a new adventure, leaving my student job and coffee slog behind, I can’t deny this place will be a part of me.

Just in case you don’t, I’ll remember the Jamaican lady with the sweet potato pie, old enough to be my grandmother, encouraging me to never stop singing. The Italian chef, who I watched on TV from my couch when I burned by foot, and then made his drink ten times a day from then on ‘til now. The “secret agents”, Extra Foamy-Shugah-Shugah, Lisa, Connor and Jay and so many more.  I’m a grumpy ol’ hipster on the outside, but at the heart, I’m a softy and will drink in these moment and savour the new connections that will come.  

Goodbye Yorkville store. There are a million stores, but none will ever be there like you were.

Sincerely, Clara Button

my store, in the heart of a swank-ville, across from an even swankier hotel, is closing down to make room for condo-chic developments. c’est la city vie! not only will i miss my beloved crazy coworkers, waking up two minutes before i start work, and being on speaking terms with fancy-schmancy people i could never afford to know in real life, i will miss being responsible for a celebrity’s all-star beverage. 

in honour of my store’s closure, here is a compilation of all the superstars that either myself, my friends or a past barista has served. ENJOY!

CONAN O’BRIEN- Grande Eggnog Latte

SHERYL CROW - Grande Non-fat Latte and a blueberry scone

DAVID BECKHAM - Grande Americano

MEMPHIS GRIZZLIES - Venti Extra-whip White Mocha, Venti Extra-whip Chocolate, Venti Extra-Extra-whip White Hot Chocolate

JUSTIN BIEBER’S BODY GUARD - Tall White Mocha

COME BACK JUSTIN!!!!

CHEF DAVID ROCCO - Solo long espresso macchiato…or whatever else he feels like ordering us around to do.

LADY GAGA - Iced-Tall Unsweetened Green Tea

QUEEN LATIFAH - Double Short Soy Latte

NEVE CAMPBELL - Grande Non-fat Latte

JOHN TRAVOLTA - Grande Bold

JIM (DRAGON’S DEN) -Tall Skinny Vanilla Latte x 2

ASHLEY (OR MARY-KATE?) OLSEN - Triple Venti Vanilla Non-fat Latte 

GLEE - An assortment of annoying beverages

K’NAAN - Whatever he feels like, yo!

Thanks a latte, celebrity friends! 

“Excuse me Coffee Girl, i put too much milk in my coffee by accident… could you give me a new one? or at least could you spill some out and put fresh coffee in?!” *panics*

“sorry, we gave you a chance already today. but unfortunately, you ruined your coffee. better luck next time!”

“How are you today, Coffee Girl?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m just a Barista”.

“Ahhhh!!! Where did the garbage can go?! I just threw my used, gross tea bag into an empty abyss!”

“I’m in the process of changing it. If you weren’t so focused on ripping open your 15 packets of Splenda, you’d have noticed me standing here, struggling with this heavy, leaky bag.  I’ll gladly reach into the abyss and fish out your tea bag since the sight of your stupidity makes you squirm; I’m desensitized to splatter.”

“Wow! How do you memorize so many drinks?!”

“Even though I’m illiterate, I have trained myself to recognize recurring patterns and symbols. Similar to how a golden retriever will shake a paw and respond to his ninny “non-fat/no-foam” owner. You, sir, have a degree in Fancy Business Man, while I have a pedigree for speedy service with a smile. Don’t bite the hand that picks up your non-fat. Or is it whole milk today? Woof!”

“Why are you already sold out of blue berry muffins?!”

“Answer one: Yuck!”
“Answer two: You’re looking pudgy. I’m actually helping you.”
“Answer three: I didn’t feel like putting any out. They are actually sitting behind the counter but I find you really annoying. Next!”

“Can I get a mug of hot water to warm up my l’il baby’s designer bottle?” 

“Only if you stay until close and help mop up the drool on the table, wipe off the floor and mend the broken legs I sustain because your SUV stroller is blocking my life.”

“Can you watch my laptop for a second?”

“Muahahahaha! It’s safe with me! I would never send prank e-mails or use your Skype to call businesses telling them I’m locked in their bathrooms. No way! And if someone tries to steal it, I will gladly endanger my life fighting the armed gunmen who are after your files, since you are so important.”

“Why do you always where a hat?”

“Because if I don’t, you’ll ask me why I’m not wearing a hat.”

“What happened to your hat?”

“If I wear a hat people ask me why I wear a hat. And there are rumours that my hair is fake and I’m trying to dispel them by showing off my “hair” that looks good enough that you’re going to ask me where I get my hair done”. (my hair was actually purchased at the Caribbean Queen Hair and Nails store from a Jamaican lady named DeDe). 

“How do you get your hair to look soooo nice all the time? Don’t hide it under a hat!”

“I wake up hours before work, while you are tucked up in your king sized condo, and rub almond oil and apple cider vinegar all over my trusses repeatedly for two hours. Then I use pipe-cleaners to make the pin curls and get a small child to wind the ends tightly. Voila, my hair is more designer-looking than your knock-off Louis Vuitton handbag. And I don’t hide it; If I didn’t wear my grungy hat then I would upset the balance of the Law that “The Barista Must Look Uglier than her Customers for the  Sake of their Self-Esteem.”

“Can I get a Skinny Pepper-Mint Mocha?”

“Mmmmm aspartame-y!!!”

“Can you make it dense dense foam!?”

(my favourite thing to bitch about).”I’m sorry, I stopped listening. Though there’s something about you that just reads dense. I know you’ll love all the extra foam”.

“Can I get no foam?!”

“Lattes have foam.”

“Is that decaf?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!”

“It was when I made it and called it out to you. But now I’m not so sure. Maybe you should ask me again. Or I’ll remake it. Did you say decaf?” *full-caf button pressed*

“I’ll have a ten Sweet-and-Low, iced blended water with 5 pumps of sugar-free hazelnut and caramel drizzle on top. How much is it?”

“I make drinks. That’s not a drink. Have a great time elsewhere with your non-friends/friends are who figments of you eating-disordered brain.”

END SCENE. 

Love to some of you,

Clara Button

CASE STUDY: COFFEE GIRL LEARNS THE ABCs OF HIPSTER LIVING IN ALPHABET CITY

Cafe Mocha, East Village (2nd Ave.7th St)

soooooo…coffeee huh?! i am supposed to be the expert on that? whatever. no ways. not now. i’m the know-not, un-hippest trend-rejected girl here in the lower east side. would someone PLEASE teach me how to bite into coffee culture in the biggest, hippest apple?

first off, i’m not really in new york city. but more like hipster central on the lower edges of manhattan. smushed between funky necklace boutiques, angry-artsy tattoo parlors, venezuelan tapas hubs, over-crowded organic-gourmet milkshake gallery-shops and ancient dusty wine cellars, is me. i want to be the local, i want to blend in…but the first thing i learned is you can’t figure out how to breathe here, you’ve just gotta be born knowing. you either have it. or it has to find you. i’ve decided i will probably spend my life staring at the finger of the person who is pointing out where it is, and i’m proudly saying i see it, but really staring blurrily five feet below where it is. the have-its are laughing.

well here’s my best shot at it:

coffee shops. i have been doing this wrong forever. new check-list:

1. dingy? whole-in-wall? with an essence of grungy plaid? bingo.
2. strange unique name: weird abbreviations? foreign words? named after misunderstood artist? or french lady? ironic/witty? (aka NINE83, AbraCo, Cafe Collette, Grumpy).
3. social suicide: union square. (aka well-lit places full of tourists, happy people, academics, mainstream, newly made clothes, Ugg boots, obese people. ugh, for shame).
4. there should be at least six obscure, freshly roasted blends. the darker and blacker the better. extra points for ironic names.
5. the more people wearing unnecessary hats, vintage scarves and lace-up boots the better. oh, and plaid.
6. absolutely no children inside. no golden retrievers or labs waiting outside. if so, keeping skulking by.
7. obscure indie artist mix or mild punk music playing. or side patio for smoking and cigarette rolling. top 40 is a definite turn off.
8. fresh baked vegan or white-chocolate-blueberry—pinot-soaked-pumpkin-oatmeal cookie type options. or starvation.
9. evil eyes to corporate coffee chains.
10. the baristas behind the counter must be wearing awkward ties and blazers, skinny jeans and vintages tees, and yes, plaid. they should all be lattes-artists and very stoic and unfriendly.
11. coffee is a necessary part of existing; you don’t look for a good coffee shop. you know where to go. thank the hipster gods who made you this way.
12. be picky. be pretentious. be an expert. cuz you just are. duh.

i may not be hip to this coffee scene. but at least i have my own it-manual and luckily, only i know it. so i’m gonna sit here and just enjoy the hipsters own their neighbourhood. check.

OTHER NEW YORK TRENDS:

• milk bars: enjoy “homemade style” cookies dipped in different types of milk: from strawberry soy to cereal-soaked. dunk them at the long wooden bar as you hipster watch.
• design-your-own-FRO-YO! frozen yogurt will never be the same. it’s all about personal customization. don’t conform my cone!
• obscure foods from ALL over the world: the harder to pronounce the better, and the more remote the country gives you bonus points.
• gourmet hot dogs: this has been an icelandic tradition forever but now it’s here. except waaaay more expensive.
• street food trucks: move over hot dogs and soft serce, nyc has an excellent variety of street food all available in convenient roadside trucks. as delicious as they are sketchy, enjoy a gyro, rice and beans and greasy chicken feast for a low low price. (perfect for Occupying Wall Street!)
• pies. too bad i don’t like crust.

FIN.

about a month ago I showed you an example of drink profiling: how baristas can match a fancy, heavily botoxed customer to her fancy, heavily modified beverage. well, this technique is not just useful for the ladies. no when it comes to coffee, it’s a man’s world too. where do you fit in? (if you don’t drink coffee/are so unique and indie that we could not possibly profile you, then just bite your tongue and play along anyway)

WARNING: judgments were made in the creation of this post, so if you are easily offended, shut your browser now and begin singing KUMABAYA while watching Oprah re-runs.

small capuccino

Double LONG espresso

dark roast coffee…black

me? what?….oh five shot americano

vanilla non-fat latte

latte…and two of those take-out coffee boxes for my team!

four scoop protein, matcha, orange mango smoothie

large size green tea and a lemon-seed poppy loaf

extra-sweet soy caramel macchiato….thank you sooo much!

kids apple juice

milk…with whipped creme!!!!!

do you have McDonald’s here?!

a small size of your freshest, mildest brew with two pumps of hazelnut. oh, and lactose free milk on the bar

please miss, just small chai latte. no foam, no no foam miss. thank you so very much.

is it possible to just get a REGULAR COFFEE?!

we make our drinks at home. though, my family doesn’t need coffee!

GRARRRROAAAAAR! HAHAHAHA! MAHAHAGAGAHHR ROAAAAR!!!!!!!

While I don’t make emergency caffeine house calls (yet…but ya never know where the already slave-like service industry is headed) I am often Stand-By  in case other stores are short staffed. Yes, believe it or not there is no such thing as Barista-Bots (yet…there will be once the humans refuse to make non-fat/no-foam house calls) so sometimes there just aren’t enough healthy, functional people to fill a typical shift. I’ve been store hopping around the city this week, whipping out my magic cup marking marker and sixth coffee sense, to help out wherever my octopus arms are most needed. From swanky uptown to the little shops along the way, I am there. But I wasn’t really ready for my first trip to the hospital…

No, I didn’t suddenly pass out from a picky-customer encounter or caffeine overdose and end up in the ER. Yesterday I worked the coffee kiosk’s opening shift at one of the city’s biggest hospitals. Ironically, this was the hospital I was born at many moons ago. I wonder how my newborn alien-looking little self would feel about me being back there, scrubbing into a dirty apron and perhaps caffeinating the very nurses who had bottle fed me: wow, full-circle moment.

The hospital is dead on a Saturday morning (figuratively speaking). I got to the opportunity to have one-on-one talks with all my patients…er, customers.

COFFEE GIRL: Good morning, what can I get you?
CUSTOMER 1: I’m half-way through my 20 hour emergency room shift. I need something to keep going. Make it a triple medium latte. No wait, maybe a quad.
CG: Wow. Busy night?
ER DOCTOR: Yup, it’s the long weekend. Unfortunately that means people are more reckless drivers. There’s been a few accidents?
CG: *gulp* are the people okay? How do have the mental strength to deal with that?
ER DOCTOR: I have a passion for what I do; it’s interesting stuff. But yes it’s difficult to keep focused and separate yourself from it all. Coming down for coffee and a chat saves me.

COFFEE GIRL: Hey there, what can I get you?
CUSTOMER 2: Extra large vanilla latte, with caramel and chocolate drizzle. I have a long day ahead.
CG: Are you a doctor here?
C2: Haha no. My wife is here for her fourth surgery. She’s battling cancer. I need something sweet for the wait.
CG: I’m so sorry to hear that! I wish you both well.
LOVING HUSBAND: I’ll be back soon. Being in the hospital gets me down but I love hanging out here; you guys are always so friendly.
CG: Your next one’s on the house!

COFFEE GIRL: How are you this morning?
CUSTOMER 3: I’m exhausted and ready to get outa here! Working over night can get nasty sometimes. I’ll take a hot chocolate to put me to sleep.
CG: This will help. What do you do here?
C3: I’m a janitor. You should see some of the messes I have to clean up. Heavy stuff!
CG: I can imagine! What’s your background?
JANITOR: Actually, I’m Pakistani. I had my own private health practice back home. I’m hoping my paperwork goes through so I can start building a stable life here for my family. I never thought this experience would be so challenging. But I can’t go back now. Thanks for listening! I haven’t seen you before.
CG: I’m just helping out this morning. But I hope to work here again.
JANITOR DOCTOR: I very much hope to see you. This is a delicious beverage. Good luck in your studies.

The rest of my day passed by quickly. I was fascinated by my customers lives and stories. I continued to make beverages which extra-special attention to NOT pressing the DECAF button by accident. I gave myself jitters by visualizing the extra-large caramel macchiato going into a brain surgery. I even flirted with a gorgeous surgery resident who sat in the cafe with her yogurt and orange juice, after having worked a three day shift! I felt like I was on “Coffee Girl’s Anatomy”.

Yes, the cafe and the hospital are good compliments to each other: bringing together those who need each other, nourishing each other with words and medicine and passing the energy from person to person to person who can save a person’s life. I may not be a brain surgeon and the art of coffee may not be rocket science, but it has its place and I’m glad to be one working the steam wand and pressing the buttons.