I made a decision a few weeks ago that I spend entirely too much time only having fun AFTER dark and in places where people are drinking. This decision led me to getting a very part time job at Caribou
Coffee in downtown Wayzata. My logic? Well, I'd be meeting new folks in the daylight who weren't using alcohol.
I've had a really hard time however in learning a whole new skill set! In fact, I'm calling myself the
"Cari-booboo". There's a whole subculture and language to this environment. Terms like "moose it",
"skinny", "half caf", "dry latte", etc. continure to trip me up.
One "guest" last week had this order: turtle mocha with lite whip no shavings moosed twice five splendas no bean half caf extra hot soy milk lite caramel drip no bean. Get THAT?! My God - and of course she had a line of customers seven deep behind her!
Since I only worked a four-hour shift once a week, I had little chance to really "learn through repetition" in my new job. My most common, ridiculous mistake is closing my apron strings in the cash drawer after ringing up a sale. This traps me and renders getting the coffees impossible until I ring up the next sale as I'm tied to the drawer!
My first, and so far ONLY, stint on the bar making drinks spooked me enough that I've managed to avoid working the bar ever since. No one seems to mind because all the other employees prefer working the bar and hate the cash register function.
While attempting to steam milk to 160 degrees, I splattered it all over myself and the bar. This hurt and was all I needed to become instantly phobic around steamed milk. Unfortunately, most drinks require this dangerously hot ingredient.
I am not doing this for the money! In fact, I earn more in one hour as a therapist than I earn in 13 hours at the coffee shop. Last week, after one month of trying to "get it right", my manager sat me down and delivered negative feedback from my co-workers. They're annoyed that I ask so many questions. Tears welled up in my eyes and I felt like a little kid who can't do anything "right".
I considered never going back. If a low-paid, difficult job like this could ding my self-esteem this much, why even do it? Oddly, my very next shift went really well and everyone was extra nice to me, telling me I was doing a great job. I think the manager must've informed them that I might run out of there crying.
It's starting to feel like fun now, so I'll probably hang in there. At least it gets me out of the cottage and among other human beings! And, I get one pound of FREE Caribou coffee a week :)
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