When did I get so serious? Not to mention so depressed, and so depressing... The more I read over that last post, the more I realize I am being torn apart by the conditions of my life. I used to be so happy. Anyway... I'm going to try and focus on the positive things in my life. I used to be so good at keeping myself happy. So, a list of things that make me happy, even here:
-The first sip of the first cup of hot coffee each day.
-Having sand in my shoes.
-Absolute silence on the Cape.
-The combined smells of my shampoo, conditioner, face wash, and body wash.
-Gorgeous fall foliage.
-Crawling into bed between freshly laundered sheets.
-8:16 AM, my favorite time of day.
-Bad, and I mean awful, jokes. Puns.
-Running in Brookline.
-Pirates.
-My hair.
-Cooking something new.
-Smiles from strangers.
-Watching clouds and stars through the skylight over my bed.
-Hearing my phone start playing John Mayer's "Daughters" - which means a family member is calling.
-The moment when I put on my tie and my black apron each day, and clip a Sharpie to the top of my apron.
-The smell of my freshly baked brownies.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Misery loves company.
The manager I was working with tonight at Chipotle let it slip that I get moody starting between 7 and 8 PM and stay that way for the rest of the night. He said all of the managers had noticed it (no one had said anything to me), and while I had also noticed I am more and more frustrated starting around then lasting through close, it is moderately embarrassing that everyone has noticed it, talked about it behind my back, and refused to say anything to my face.
7 or 8 PM:
-Everyone else on the floor has taken a break. I will be the last person to take a break, around 8:30 or 9. Meanwhile, if I stand still for any period of time, or try to take a quick 5-minute break, someone starts yelling at me to ring up a transaction, check the lobby, collect baskets, watch the line for them, etc. And they wonder why those of us who are trained on cash hate being the shift cashier...
-The dinner rush has just ended, or will be ending soon. I'm sick of people telling me "no" when I ask for sides of salsa or guac, and I'm cataloging in my mind how many times I or the line screwed up on customer service. I'm also just sick of seeing people and doing the exact same thing hundreds of times.
-By this time, most times I'm working at Chipotle, I've been awake since around 4 AM, and I have worked around 12 hours so far that day.
-I'm starting to think about the rest of the night, which means anticipating having to clean bathrooms (my least favorite thing ever), and cleaning up the lobby after the dinner rush, so running around sweeping, wiping tables, cleaning baskets, filling ice, stocking the drink station, and ringing up every customer.
-I'm also starting to think about going home, which includes crying throughout the 20-minute drive home as I remember that I won't see my family for months and am, for the most part, very alone here. It also means I start calculating how much sleep I will get, which is usually 4-5 hours, maximum.
So yeah... not that those are excuses... I am usually a nice person. But there are valid reasons for my apparent bitchy-ness. More importantly, the fact that this is showing, when I'm a naturally happy person, means more than just me being bitchy sometimes. It means I am really that miserable. It has been six months since I saw my father and sister, and eight months since I saw my mother - and that time was only for an hour. My dog is dying, and I am not there to spend time with her as her energy fades. I hate the taxes I pay in this state, and I hate knowing that they will probably go up. I hate knowing that as hard as I work, I earn very little money. I am frustrated by the knowledge that I work my tail off - often on little or no food, because I can't afford more - and it doesn't seem to make a difference or garner much respect from anyone. When did hard work lose its value? I hate how mean people are here and the fact that everyone seems to think that's okay. I hate that I can't afford some important things, like body work, new brake pads, and new tires for my car. I am sick more often than not. I don't have many friends; the ones I do have don't have much time for me. I am finding less and less willpower to go into work and give great service for eight hours when I know there will be at least one or two people who will flip out on me over something, whether it's the wait time on a drink, the quality of brewed coffee, or the length of the line.
Seriously, how do you people live like this? How are all of you so miserable all of the time, and why are you so anxious to spread it around? How many times do you have to shove me down to make yourself feel better?
What is more frustrating than anything else is that the whole reason I'm still here is that I believe the managers in my Starbucks district are more devoted to my development than any managers for whom I have worked. And yet... because I work 70 hours a week, I can't take advantage of this opportunity like I could if I just had one job. But if I just had one job, I couldn't pay bills in order to stay here and take advantage of the opportunity. Getting to the point where I will be promoted to the next level while I work 70 hours a week seems like some Sisyphean task God put in front of me to make me want to kill myself. I've been working 70 hours a week for three months, and I can't imagine continuing like this for nine more months while I watch myself utterly fail at trying to be a good, well-developed Starbucks manager. With recognition being rare and the wages I get paid, I have never felt so worthless in my life.
I'm not sure how or why I keep going. I just do.
7 or 8 PM:
-Everyone else on the floor has taken a break. I will be the last person to take a break, around 8:30 or 9. Meanwhile, if I stand still for any period of time, or try to take a quick 5-minute break, someone starts yelling at me to ring up a transaction, check the lobby, collect baskets, watch the line for them, etc. And they wonder why those of us who are trained on cash hate being the shift cashier...
-The dinner rush has just ended, or will be ending soon. I'm sick of people telling me "no" when I ask for sides of salsa or guac, and I'm cataloging in my mind how many times I or the line screwed up on customer service. I'm also just sick of seeing people and doing the exact same thing hundreds of times.
-By this time, most times I'm working at Chipotle, I've been awake since around 4 AM, and I have worked around 12 hours so far that day.
-I'm starting to think about the rest of the night, which means anticipating having to clean bathrooms (my least favorite thing ever), and cleaning up the lobby after the dinner rush, so running around sweeping, wiping tables, cleaning baskets, filling ice, stocking the drink station, and ringing up every customer.
-I'm also starting to think about going home, which includes crying throughout the 20-minute drive home as I remember that I won't see my family for months and am, for the most part, very alone here. It also means I start calculating how much sleep I will get, which is usually 4-5 hours, maximum.
So yeah... not that those are excuses... I am usually a nice person. But there are valid reasons for my apparent bitchy-ness. More importantly, the fact that this is showing, when I'm a naturally happy person, means more than just me being bitchy sometimes. It means I am really that miserable. It has been six months since I saw my father and sister, and eight months since I saw my mother - and that time was only for an hour. My dog is dying, and I am not there to spend time with her as her energy fades. I hate the taxes I pay in this state, and I hate knowing that they will probably go up. I hate knowing that as hard as I work, I earn very little money. I am frustrated by the knowledge that I work my tail off - often on little or no food, because I can't afford more - and it doesn't seem to make a difference or garner much respect from anyone. When did hard work lose its value? I hate how mean people are here and the fact that everyone seems to think that's okay. I hate that I can't afford some important things, like body work, new brake pads, and new tires for my car. I am sick more often than not. I don't have many friends; the ones I do have don't have much time for me. I am finding less and less willpower to go into work and give great service for eight hours when I know there will be at least one or two people who will flip out on me over something, whether it's the wait time on a drink, the quality of brewed coffee, or the length of the line.
Seriously, how do you people live like this? How are all of you so miserable all of the time, and why are you so anxious to spread it around? How many times do you have to shove me down to make yourself feel better?
What is more frustrating than anything else is that the whole reason I'm still here is that I believe the managers in my Starbucks district are more devoted to my development than any managers for whom I have worked. And yet... because I work 70 hours a week, I can't take advantage of this opportunity like I could if I just had one job. But if I just had one job, I couldn't pay bills in order to stay here and take advantage of the opportunity. Getting to the point where I will be promoted to the next level while I work 70 hours a week seems like some Sisyphean task God put in front of me to make me want to kill myself. I've been working 70 hours a week for three months, and I can't imagine continuing like this for nine more months while I watch myself utterly fail at trying to be a good, well-developed Starbucks manager. With recognition being rare and the wages I get paid, I have never felt so worthless in my life.
I'm not sure how or why I keep going. I just do.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Back in black!
I am proud to announce that as of Wednesday, October 15, 2008, I have a Coffee Master's black apron that I am now permitted to wear, as I have been deemed a Coffee Master by my regional director. Actually, to be exact, I own HER black apron. She was impressed with my coffee tasting, and after I asked why it was so hard to get a black apron, she gave me hers. Someone who has been with the company for fourteen years was that impressed.
If I had known she was going to sit in on that tasting, I would have had time to work up some nervousness. But... I didn't know... so I just said and did what came naturally to me... and she loved it.
My next challenge shall be... blind coffee tastings. Which coffee is which? Can I tell the differences between coffees of two different regions without knowing which is which? Can I tell the differences between coffees of the same region without knowing which is which? I know I can lead a coffee tasting and rock it with my coffee knowledge. Now, let's see how well I really know those coffees.
Wearing that apron for the first time this morning was very exciting. The thought of it actually got me out of bed on time. I was so excited about it last night that I had a hard time sleeping. Like a little kid on Christmas Eve.
I'm telling you... this is the start of something big.
If I had known she was going to sit in on that tasting, I would have had time to work up some nervousness. But... I didn't know... so I just said and did what came naturally to me... and she loved it.
My next challenge shall be... blind coffee tastings. Which coffee is which? Can I tell the differences between coffees of two different regions without knowing which is which? Can I tell the differences between coffees of the same region without knowing which is which? I know I can lead a coffee tasting and rock it with my coffee knowledge. Now, let's see how well I really know those coffees.
Wearing that apron for the first time this morning was very exciting. The thought of it actually got me out of bed on time. I was so excited about it last night that I had a hard time sleeping. Like a little kid on Christmas Eve.
I'm telling you... this is the start of something big.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Singing baristas!
So, Sunday at Starbucks was a little insane. Okay... we got massacred. Seth started throwing up and had to go home, and the line just got longer and longer. I was working the bar, experiencing a bit of a throwback to my days at the downtown store. I reached my barista zenith there, sometime during the colder months. I remember barring by myself on a Sunday, and Dave Matthews Band music was playing, and it was like everything slowed down enough that I could just kind of watch my hands working. Time slowed down, and I was going insanely fast. Almost everything I was doing was automatic. Nonstop line for hours, nonstop line of drinks for hours. I miss that.
Anyway. By the time Zoe came in, we were still busy, but it was slowing a little. At that point, the other Diana, Gail, and I were losing our minds a little. So... I started singing. Then, Zoe joined in. Then, Gail joined in. We went through an entire Beatles set, to Alanis Morissette, the Pretenders, Prince... we finished with "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." Then, I threw up, so I left.
A customer on Monday morning who had been in on Sunday approached me and started to say something about Sunday. I immediately apologized, saying we'd gotten slammed, were understaffed, and started to go a little nutty. Her reaction was, "No, it was great, I loved it! You were singing some of my favorite Beatles songs!"
Really??
Zoe and I don't have the greatest voices, but it helped lighten the mood, and we were having fun... so we're going to make this a regular thing. Singing baristas when we work together. We're building a list of songs now, with lots of the Beatles, Prince, even the Talking Heads ("Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est?"). So, um... come see the singing baristas. And get a Clover.
Anyway. By the time Zoe came in, we were still busy, but it was slowing a little. At that point, the other Diana, Gail, and I were losing our minds a little. So... I started singing. Then, Zoe joined in. Then, Gail joined in. We went through an entire Beatles set, to Alanis Morissette, the Pretenders, Prince... we finished with "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." Then, I threw up, so I left.
A customer on Monday morning who had been in on Sunday approached me and started to say something about Sunday. I immediately apologized, saying we'd gotten slammed, were understaffed, and started to go a little nutty. Her reaction was, "No, it was great, I loved it! You were singing some of my favorite Beatles songs!"
Really??
Zoe and I don't have the greatest voices, but it helped lighten the mood, and we were having fun... so we're going to make this a regular thing. Singing baristas when we work together. We're building a list of songs now, with lots of the Beatles, Prince, even the Talking Heads ("Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est?"). So, um... come see the singing baristas. And get a Clover.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Life at one thousand miles per hour.
I realized how fast things are passing me by today. I can't believe it's already almost October, and I haven't taken a real vacation in ages. I've worked 42 consecutive days as of tonight. It doesn't look like I will have a vacation until January, maybe February, and who wants to take a vacation then? I can't afford to go anywhere tropical.
It seems like every minute I'm not working, I'm doing something for work, or I'm moving heavy stuff, like furniture and boxes. I can't believe my hair is already in need of a haircut again. I can't afford one anyway. I don't remember the last time I actually did my hair; I've been just washing it and then running out the door for months now. Somehow, it looks nice most of the time. My body has gotten into the annoying habit of aching really badly every time I move a limb later in the day, which is seriously slowing me down at work. I'm starting to wonder if the way I schedule myself makes me slightly masochistic. If I could have anything, I would just ask for a hug from each of my parents and my sister. I'd kill to be ten years old again, with my mother yelling at me to finish my milk at the dinner table while I feed things to the waiting dog under the table. Things I want to keep up with - world news, reading, cleaning my room, having clean clothes - have fallen by the wayside. I never feel like I have time to think anymore. One of these days, I'm really, truly going to have some time off, and all of the things that have been stuck in some corner of my mind are going to hit me all at once. Like driving too fast and then hitting the brakes hard, an ugly pileup of cars that is an insurance adjustor's nightmare. Like a ton of bricks.
Meanwhile, I'm trying to make these great strides toward moving forward with Starbucks, and the extra work is eating up what little time I have to myself. I can't believe someone who had never had regular coffee before working for Starbucks now has her arms wrapped so tightly around a coffee company and its whole bean offerings that the smell of unadulterated coffee beans is a huge comfort that soothes my tired mind. It's the first thing I notice when I walk into my room. I don't know that the me of 7 years ago - about when I first became a Starbucks customer - would recognize me now at all. Coffee addict/connoisseur, workaholic.
I'd better get to sleep. I need to be up for my first cup of the day in five hours, and ready to serve a thousand cups in six hours.
It seems like every minute I'm not working, I'm doing something for work, or I'm moving heavy stuff, like furniture and boxes. I can't believe my hair is already in need of a haircut again. I can't afford one anyway. I don't remember the last time I actually did my hair; I've been just washing it and then running out the door for months now. Somehow, it looks nice most of the time. My body has gotten into the annoying habit of aching really badly every time I move a limb later in the day, which is seriously slowing me down at work. I'm starting to wonder if the way I schedule myself makes me slightly masochistic. If I could have anything, I would just ask for a hug from each of my parents and my sister. I'd kill to be ten years old again, with my mother yelling at me to finish my milk at the dinner table while I feed things to the waiting dog under the table. Things I want to keep up with - world news, reading, cleaning my room, having clean clothes - have fallen by the wayside. I never feel like I have time to think anymore. One of these days, I'm really, truly going to have some time off, and all of the things that have been stuck in some corner of my mind are going to hit me all at once. Like driving too fast and then hitting the brakes hard, an ugly pileup of cars that is an insurance adjustor's nightmare. Like a ton of bricks.
Meanwhile, I'm trying to make these great strides toward moving forward with Starbucks, and the extra work is eating up what little time I have to myself. I can't believe someone who had never had regular coffee before working for Starbucks now has her arms wrapped so tightly around a coffee company and its whole bean offerings that the smell of unadulterated coffee beans is a huge comfort that soothes my tired mind. It's the first thing I notice when I walk into my room. I don't know that the me of 7 years ago - about when I first became a Starbucks customer - would recognize me now at all. Coffee addict/connoisseur, workaholic.
I'd better get to sleep. I need to be up for my first cup of the day in five hours, and ready to serve a thousand cups in six hours.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Why bother?
The title of this post takes me back to Highland Park Village, working at Starbucks, watching Dragan shrug and ask, "Why bother?" any time anyone ordered something with no fat, no sugar, and no caffeine - like a decaf tall sugar free vanilla nonfat latte, or a decaf tall nonfat no whip no foam mocha, or something like that. I guess his point was, if you're not going to do anything fun with it or depend on it for a spark, then why bother spending the $3-4? Beats me. I drink caffeinated black coffee like it's water.
But the "Why bother?" here refers to my complete lack of purpose, especially in New England. If someone here giving a shit about me at all is the caffeine in my beverage, making enough to support myself and pay bills is the whipped cream on top. Unfortunately, I have neither, and as I go through the daily grind (pun intended), I can't help but ask myself why I'm still in Boston or alive at all. Why do I work so hard when it isn't enough anyway? Why do I try to be conscientious at work when the people who will benefit from it snap at me? Why do I even leave the house when my chances of meeting anyone - literally anyone - nice are slim? Why do I do people favors when I know I can't get one in return? Why bother?
I am so tired of being snapped at, yelled at, and told "no." One of these days, I'm going to have had enough, and I'll give up. I just won't show at work, and I'll be gone.
But the "Why bother?" here refers to my complete lack of purpose, especially in New England. If someone here giving a shit about me at all is the caffeine in my beverage, making enough to support myself and pay bills is the whipped cream on top. Unfortunately, I have neither, and as I go through the daily grind (pun intended), I can't help but ask myself why I'm still in Boston or alive at all. Why do I work so hard when it isn't enough anyway? Why do I try to be conscientious at work when the people who will benefit from it snap at me? Why do I even leave the house when my chances of meeting anyone - literally anyone - nice are slim? Why do I do people favors when I know I can't get one in return? Why bother?
I am so tired of being snapped at, yelled at, and told "no." One of these days, I'm going to have had enough, and I'll give up. I just won't show at work, and I'll be gone.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
My laptop lives again!
...Though I have to say, I didn't miss being online much. Really, I only missed it the couple of times I needed driving directions and then, the night I figured out I didn't have a country CD anywhere in my book of CDs in my car, and I really wanted to come home and burn a new one. So, I'm taking some time now to catch up on e-mail (yeah, 800 new e-mails, it's going to take a while) and facebook (while listening to Amarillo By Morning and Texas On My Mind, of course).
A lot has happened lately, but I don't think I'll get around to talking about any of it. I haven't had much time to process the craziness that is my life right now. I work 70ish hours a week and spend whatever remains of my time sleeping or doing laundry. I went for a drive late last night after work to give myself time to think. It reminded me of the times I used to drive down Preston Road in Dallas, from my Starbucks in Highland Park all the way out to Celina, past the creepy graveyard and closed gas station. Unfortunately, the territory was foreign, not familiar, so it was not as relaxing as it would have been had I been on State Highway 289 in my beloved state of Texas.
Really, I miss Texas, and all of the Texans I love. I'm tired of being alone. Work at Starbucks has been going fine, but I have utterly failed at meeting people outside of work. I'm not used to having to try so hard. I will be coming home for one of the major holidays (I haven't decided which yet; all I know is I've been told I can take one holiday, and the Starbucks that hired me has offered to take me in while I'm home). I hope I make it that far. Life isn't easy right now, and it seems like it's just getting harder.
Other things to look forward to this fall... my Starbucks anniversary is December 4th, so I will be hosting some sort of dinner. The Head of the Charles is coming up, and I will be flying my mother up for either that weekend or the one right after. Hopefully, I will have furniture by then. Ha. But really, it would be nice to get off of this air mattress.
Well, I guess that's it for now. Hopefully, things will get better, and I'll feel like eating again. At least I now have a working computer again.
A lot has happened lately, but I don't think I'll get around to talking about any of it. I haven't had much time to process the craziness that is my life right now. I work 70ish hours a week and spend whatever remains of my time sleeping or doing laundry. I went for a drive late last night after work to give myself time to think. It reminded me of the times I used to drive down Preston Road in Dallas, from my Starbucks in Highland Park all the way out to Celina, past the creepy graveyard and closed gas station. Unfortunately, the territory was foreign, not familiar, so it was not as relaxing as it would have been had I been on State Highway 289 in my beloved state of Texas.
Really, I miss Texas, and all of the Texans I love. I'm tired of being alone. Work at Starbucks has been going fine, but I have utterly failed at meeting people outside of work. I'm not used to having to try so hard. I will be coming home for one of the major holidays (I haven't decided which yet; all I know is I've been told I can take one holiday, and the Starbucks that hired me has offered to take me in while I'm home). I hope I make it that far. Life isn't easy right now, and it seems like it's just getting harder.
Other things to look forward to this fall... my Starbucks anniversary is December 4th, so I will be hosting some sort of dinner. The Head of the Charles is coming up, and I will be flying my mother up for either that weekend or the one right after. Hopefully, I will have furniture by then. Ha. But really, it would be nice to get off of this air mattress.
Well, I guess that's it for now. Hopefully, things will get better, and I'll feel like eating again. At least I now have a working computer again.
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