Doing Something Nice for the Children

Anyone who knows me knows that I consider my time precious. Granted, I spend most of it either asleep or doing something most people would judge as wasteful, but in that respect, I agree with John Lenon, who said, “Time you enjoyed wasting, was not wasted.” In other words, it’s only wasted time if you didn’t have fun wasting it. And I have plenty of fun!

So where am I going with this?

I work at Starbucks and part of their whole mission is to be involved in the community. There are always projects going on and ways for us to help out, but I tend to either ignore these things, or just flat out not want to do them. I am not a tree-planter, house-painter, garden-hoer, or homeless-feeder. So, when my manager informed me that part of my development in moving up with the company was getting involved in my community, I got nervous.

What was I, a woman afraid of bugs and birds who calls transients “hobos” and would win the award for “Most Likely to Kill Someone Accidently with a Gardening Tool Because She is Incredibly Klutzy,” going to do in my community? I sat down with my manager and hashed out the things I could do and what I was actually willing to do. Aside from the manual labor and pretending like I don’t get uncomfortable around the homeless, there was one major category left: children.

Now, I’m not what most people would describe as “kid” person. This is mostly because I always have something sarcastic and judgmental to say when it comes to children, but really, I don’t mind them. So, after some thinking and very little organizing, one of my regulars mentioned that some of the teachers at her school needed some readers for “Read Across America,” an annual event that focuses on the importance of reading. I got a few of my fellow Starbucks partners together, we put on our finest pajamas (it was Pajama Day at school), and we headed off to read to some kids.

The first classroom I went to was first grade. I read a book called “Gerald McBoing Boing” (Yes, I am aware that the one book I picked up was the one that could easily be turned into a euphemism for something wildly inappropriate for children.) I don’t do voices, but since this book has a few sound effects, I had some fun with it. Afterwards, the teacher let the kids as me some questions, one of which was “I had a Dr. Suess pajama party last year?” I didn’t know what to say, so I just said “Oh that’s nice.”

The second classroom was kindergarten and, I have to say, they were adorable. They sat still through the story and, while that teacher wouldn’t let them ask questions, they did have a few things to say, such as “You’re pretty” and “You have nice hair.” It’s amazing how little kids know just what to say to make your day!

The other readers had a lot of fun too, reading to all ages from kindergarten through 3^rd grade. Some of them even got forms to go back and volunteer more often, while another offered to donate some books.

Overall, I have to say that taking an hour to read to some kids wasn’t the worst way for me to spend an hour. While I might not be volunteering on a daily basis, it was nice to go and do something that had very little benefit for me.

Plus, I managed not to curse or say anything inappropriate to the 5 and 6 year olds, so I would call that a success.

A Little Idle Chit Chat

I am usually a pretty humble person. I don't like to brag about the things I'm good at (or the things I think I'm good at), therefore I tend to be incredibly self-deprecating. However, one of the things I am very good at is small talk. I can do this with just about any willing party, and God knows I'll try with the unwilling parties as well. Here is an example of the small talk I made with some of my regulars at Starbucks one lazy Sunday.

Wait...I should probably start by saying that they are both gay men, but not flamboyantly so. I say this because I did not know for certain that they were gay and my go-to chit-chat with men on Sundays in the fall is football....(In the winter, it's basketball, and in the spring, it's about how baseball has become too long and they need fewer games because the individual games actually mean nothing when you play 500.)

Ok go.

Me: So, any football viewings on the schedule today guys?

Hank: Is it football season?

Bob: (ignoring Hank) No, I'm not straight enough for that.

Me: (realizing they are gay and that, duh, football would not be on the schedule) Ooooh ok....

Awkward silence.

Me: So any antiquing on the schedule for today guys?

Bob and Hank, who I have discovered are incredibly cool, both laughed hysterically and, finally, when Bob could breath again:

Bob: No, I'm not that gay either. But you're definitely too quick for me.

Me: Why thank you. It's all the caffeine.

Sometimes I'm not the one that says the funny things

Every once in awhile, someone says something that is just plain hilarious. Maybe it’s not funny to everyone else, but it was pretty damn funny.

John is one of my co-workers. He just moved here from Florida and sometimes he says things that crack us all up. What he said last night, though, has to be my favorite.

John (attempting to write two cups): Hang on. My pen isn’t working.

Me (impatient, as usual): Just give me the cups. I think I can remember 2 Fraps that are exactly the same.

John: Oh yeah, cause you went to Berkeley. (turning to the customer) She went to Berkeley. I don’t really know what that means, but it sounds impressive.

Breakin' Up is Hard to Do

Here s the post everyone has been waiting for.

Only, you’re going to be very disappointed. (Sorry Lisa)

I was watching The Real Housewives of New York reunion (don’t judge…you have guilt pleasures too.) and Bethenny was asked about peeing on a pregnancy test stick on camera. She said that certain things she has no problem with being on camera but other things she keeps private. She said that there is a line and she decides where it is. They all signed up to have their lives shared with all of America, but there are some things off limits.

Why I quit my job as the newspaper is one of my things. (Sidebar...I quit my job at the newspaper and am back at Starbucks. Just an fyi)

It’s not peeing on a stick or anything, but for some reason, I don’t want to write about it and share it on a blog. It felt a little like a breakup, and even though there were no hard feelings on either side and it’s actually a really good and exciting thing, I’m not ready to share this story. Maybe I will be eventually but I’m not right now.

I will say again that there are NO hard feelings on either side and it is totally for the best. I am actually happier now than I have been in a really, really long time. I’m also really excited for all the changes I’m opening myself up to and I am hopeful they will all work out the way I want. But if they don’t, that’s ok too. It might sound cheesy, but I’m really excited for what’s to come.

Stay tuned.

I get a little too much pleasure out of making other people uncomfortable...

Every week at Starbucks, the tips get split among all the employees based on the number of hours you work, which isn't necessarily fair, but it makes things easier, and, let's face it, in a corporate business, it's not about what's fair. Moving on. Every week, the shift supervisor tries to buy as much of the small change (coins, $1, $5) for the safe so that people don't end up with 3 rolls of quarters, 2 rolls of dimes, 3 rolls of nickels, and 1 roll of pennies. However, there are always a ton of $1 bills. Therefore, some weeks, I will end up with $36 in singles.

Now, this is not a bad thing. It makes me feel like I have more money than I actually do and it makes my wallet look full. Also, it gives me the chance to make old ladies at the supermarket totally uncomfortable, and slightly offended.

I was in line, buying some basic stuff that added up to $25ish. The cashier is a girl I knew from high school and we joke around whenever I have to pay in all ones, usually making some obvious joke about my job as a stripper. This day, however, there was a woman who had to be at least 75 in line behind me and I caught her giving me a strange look when I pulled out all my ones. Normally, I wouldn't pay much attention to some old woman who is so interested in everyone else's business that she has to notice when the girl in front of her pulls out a bunch of $1 bills. But, for some reason, I just could not resist.

Cashier: So, good night huh?

Me: Yeah. You know, it's really the lap dances where I make the big money but, to be totally honest though, I have more fun on the pole. It really lets me be creative.

The woman LITERALLY inched backwards to get away from me. The cashier laughed so hard that people in the lines next to us turned to stare. I walked out with a big grin.

Where the hell have you been????

I know....I know....I haven't posted in forever. Here's why:

I have 2 jobs now.

Yeah, you read it correctly. In these troubled times where people are lucky to have one job, I have 2. There's been accusations that I am hoarding all the jobs for myself, but nothing's been proven. Yet.

Job #1 is still Starbucks, where I now work almost every night. They started doing this thing called "optimal scheduling" which means that you have the same shifts every week. It's easier for the managers because then, instead of having to come up with a new schedule ever week, all they have to do is switch people around to accommodate time off requests.(Not that my new store manager actually pays attention to such things....But that's another story.) It sucks for everyone else, though, because then you are stuck working with the exact same people every week, so if you work with someone you don't like or with, say, someone who moves at a snail's pace and then moves even slower when you point out how slowly he works, you're stuck with that person until he requests a day off. However, I no longer have to wake up at 4 am to be at work, so I'm totally fine with all of this.

Job #2 is working at a newspaper, where I was originally doing an internship. I was an editorial intern, but now I am working as an administrative assistant part time. Yup, I have the big fancy title that almost all 20-somethings have. It's a nice way of saying "I answer the phones and am just paying my dues until I can get the job I really want or find something that pays better." I don't mind it too much, though, because I am getting to learn about the business side of newspapers, which I wish I could say was interesting, but it's not. The more I work at the paper, the more I realize that newspapers are just for advertising. That's where the money comes from and it really isn't about the news or the stories. But, if it weren't for the money, then no one would ever get the news. I guess it's just a vicious circle, much like everything else in life!

So, you ask, how do I have any free time? Well, I totally do...not at all. When I do have free time, I have to spend it catching up on all the stuff I don't have time to do, like laundry. It's amazing how quickly someone with a million clothes can end up with nothing to wear. But, some of it is my own fault, since I kind of pack up my free time, so much so that I can no longer call it "free" time.

I'll start from my last post, which was about 3 weeks ago.

My sister came down from Sacramento, so I spent the time I wasn't working hanging out with her. By "hanging out" I mean driving her around to see her friends. I think it's revenge for when we were younger and she had to drive me around. But it's ok, we had some good sister-time, like going to a movie-in-the-park and eating delicious corn and BBQ.

The next weekend, I was off on Friday and Saturday, so I went to see my grandparents. Going to their house is always fun because we just sit around and talk and catch up. We went to see The Ugly Truth, which kind of horrified me at first because I had read that it was a raunch-com. But, it was more of a raunchy chick flick. And the raunchiness wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, so there was really no awkwardness with my Grandma after. On Saturday, my grandma and I had lunch with her sister, my Aunt Peggy, aka me in 60 years. No joke. She is loud and inappropriate and doesn't hold anything back, which I LOVE! The first time she met me as an adult, it was at my cousin Cheryl's wedding and I was wearing a particularly low-cut blue dress, so naturally my boobs were the prominent accessory. Before the ceremony started, she turned to my Uncle Greg and said, "Who's the slut in the blue dress?" Therefore, everytime I go to my grandparents' house, we try to get together with Aunt Peggy, if for no other reason than she's entertaining!

Then last weekend, well, that was just chock full of fun! Saturday was Alec's birthday, and, naturally, we ended up at Timmy Nolan's. I will spare Alec's dignity and keep the antics of the evening to myself, but needless to say, we had a good time.

Sunday was Torrey's wedding reception, basically the wedding minus the boring ceremony part. (I'm sorry, but let's be honest, the ceremony is boring. It can be lovely and moving, but whatever. I'm here for he party.) Torrey and Stephen got married in Hawaii, so my broke-ass, in addition to many other broke-asses, could not attend. Therefore, her parents threw them a reception here in Burbank so we could all celebrate their new togetherness. It was soooo much fun. Richard Blade was the DJ (If you don't know who Richard Blade is, then you didn't grow up in LA.) We all just danced and ate and drank. Then, that night, 6 of us went bowling and I got to show off how awful I am at bowling. I mean it. I'm terrible.

So, there you have it. I will do my best to update more often mainly because it drives me nuts not writing. I wish I had a better excuse other than "I'm busy" but the whole point of this blog is to write about living, so sometimes the "living" gets in the way of the blogging.

A little picky is fine...High maintenance is not

It takes a lot for me to find someone truly high maintenance. I am used to people being uber picky about how they want their drinks, but every once in awhile, I get a customer who makes me glad that I only have to deal with them at work. If I had to hang out with these people, I'd probably be in jail for murder.

The other morning, this guy came in. He was wearing a nice striped button down with navy slacks and really didn't have any of the tell-tale markers of a high maintenance person (Bluetooth headseat, executive notebook, very large purse with three different agendas, and pretty much anyone who, at 5 am, looks like they've been up for 2 hours to put themselves together). Then he orderd, and it was a whole new level of fastidiousness.

"I'd like, in a paper cup, a Venti Coffee Frap." Pause to make sure I got that he wanted his cold drink in a paper cup. I kept to myself the fact that if you put a Frap in a paper cup, the cup will become soggy and leak all over his perfectly-pressed pants. (Yes, after his first sentence I started noticing all the little things that made him picky. He didn't keep cash in a wallet but kept it in a money clip. All of them were new bills. God forbid there's a wrinkle in that 20.)

"With no Whip." Pretty normal for, well, everyone in LA. Not too annoying.

"With an add shot blended in." Pretty normal for anytime before 10 am. Again, not too annoying, but getting there.

"With one and a half scoops of tall ice." Shit. Just when he only borded on picky, he became high maintenance.

I know what you're thinking. How come with just one line he became high maintenance? Well, here's the thing. If I have to walk over to the bar and read the instructions to the person making the drinks, your bitchass is high maintenance. Demanding, picky, stubborn, controlling; all of these are understandable, but just plain high maintenance is not. You're holding up everyone else and you are making my job a lot tougher than it needs to be. Not to mention the fact that you're getting shit you don't need in a very complicated way and it makes you look like a complete fool.

So, the next time you are in Starbucks or at a restaurant, think about what you're ordering. If it involves changing more than two things, don't get it. You probably don't need that decaf, half soy, half nonfat, 190 degree, no foam, one pump mocha, one pump cinnamon dulce, no whip latte. Save your money for something imporant. Like shoes.

Reason number 898,974 that proves people are idiots...

Guy in line to Bianca, who is at the register: Tell me about your Shaken Iced Tea.

Bianca: Sure. What would you like to know?

Guy: Is it iced?

Bianca: (Without smiling or showing any sign of her assessment of what an idiot this guy was) Umm...yeah....

I let out a snort that I tried to cover up as a cough and the girl with the guy in line just went "HA!" The guy didn't get it.

What I really wanted to say: No, dipshit, it's called Iced Tea because we enjoy fooling customers and then answering dumb questions to waste our time and frustrate our employees.

By the way, anyone who told you "There's no such thing as a stupid question" is someone who asks stupid questions and you should never take advice from them.

Top Ten Ways to Prevent Something Gross From Being Done to Your Drink

I was at work today and, as usual, I’ve decided that I completely agree with House. People are idiots. So, in order to help all of you not be so damn stupid, I am going to list all the common idiotic behaviors and tell you what you should do instead.

1. It’s so damn simple. BE NICE!!!! I’m not saying you need to listen to your barista tell you her life story, but when she says, “How are you today?” don’t just look at her like she’s inconveniencing you. Say, “I’m good. I”ll have a….” So simple.

2. It’s perfectly fine to have a complicated drink. What’s not ok is to have a complicated drink that you don’t tell the person at the register. I can’t tell you how many times a day people will order something basic, a latte let’s say, and then walk over to the bar and say “Oh, can I have that decaf? With nonfat milk? And no foam? With only one shot?” In my head, I say, “ You dumb bitch. No, you’re getting regular with heavy cream and extra foam” but out loud, I say, “Sure, no problem.” Because I have to.

3. On those same lines, do not have a super complicated drink and then quiz the barista about it. “Is it nonfat? No foam? Decaf?” Yes, you stupid fuck. I just called all that out and now you’re asking me to repeat it again? Pay attention the first time and then you won’t have to worry about it.

4. Another so simple one: PAY ATTENTION. Names are put on cups for a reason, so DO NOT WALK UP THE BAR AFTER “BOB” HAS BEEN CALLED OUT AND ASK “IS THAT MY DRINK?” IF YOUR NAME IS STEPHANIE. No, it’s not your drink. Yes, sometimes the names are misheard, but usually it is easy to figure out that, whoops, “Bob” should have been “Rob.” If your name wasn’t put on your cup, then pay attention to the drink the barista calls out.

5. The next is know what you order and NEVER walk up and say “Is this mine?” I HAVE NO FRACKING CLUE IF THAT IS YOURS BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU ORDERED. Instead, say, “Is this my nonfat latte?”

6. Ok, I know that we screw up drinks. Remember that everyone is human and, sometimes, we have been up since 4 a.m. and are suffering from sleep deficiency. The proper way to handle this is to say, “Excuse me, but I asked for 2 extra pumps and this doesn’t taste right.” Say it very nicely without attitude and be understanding about it. You have every right to be angry that your drink wasn’t made correctly the first time, but the more angry you get at us, the more fucked up that drink will be. Just because you’re staring at me watching make your drink doesn’t mean I don’t know how to screw with it. Not that I ever would. Hypothetically.

7. PICK UP YOUR SHIT. There are trash cans all over the place, so rather than leaving your empty cups and newspapers on the table, drop them in the trash can on your way out. Your mom doesn’t work here and won't pick up after you. I ain't your mama either, so I will hate you for the rest of the time you come to my store if you don't pick up after yourself. This also goes for spilling sugar on the condiment bar and not cleaning it up or dropping something on the ground and leaving.

8. TURN THE VOLUME OF YOUR CONVERSATION DOWN. I’m telling you, if I hear one more conversation about whether or not that girl's boobs are real or that you have some sort of rash on your “hidden areas and aren’t sure which guy” you got it from, I’m going to give my opinion. (Yes, both of those have been real conversations I overheard.)

9. DO NOT MOCK, CLOWN, HATE ON, OR TALK SHIT ABOUT THE PERSON SERVING YOU FOOD. Especially when she can hear you. It makes an already thankless job even worse and it is what causes bad customer service. If you go everywhere and everyone treats you badly, it’s not them. It’s you.

10. DO NOT COMMENT ON THE PRICES OR HOW LONG THE LINE IS. We cannot control the prices, so don’t complain to me. I agree that it’s expensive but you’re choosing to spend $5 on a drink, so just accept it and move on. Same with the line. If you walk in and there are 10 people in front of you, realize that there is going to be wait. You’re choosing to get in line and wait for a drink, so if you don’t wanna wait, go to 7-11.

That’s it. It’s simple and easy to have a good experience. Then, when someone is truly rude to you and you have done nothing, you can do what I do: make a scene.

Ok, sometimes work doesn't totally suck...

I know that I talk a lot of shit about my job. There are, of course, a lot of things I hate about it. But, every once in awhile, I talk to someone that makes me remember that my job isn't as bad as I like to say it is.

First of all, I have to mention Mike. Mike is a writer who, before he abandoned us for the fabulous life in San Francisco, would come in everyday for his triple Venti Skinny Vanilla Latte. He's an uber-cool guy that I would always complain to when I'd had a particularly annoying customer or if someone had something stupid. We actually exchanged info when he moved so we could keep in touch. I'm glad we did because now I can enjoy his musings on his fave San Francisco coffee shop!

One of our "weekend regulars" is this guy who sits on the patio and plays his guitar. He only gets a cup of coffee, but he always pays for it and doesn't try to scam us out of cups or milk or anything. He just parks himself on the patio for a few hours and plays his guitar. He doesn't do it for any money, he just plays because he likes it. He always comes in and asks about me and my life and what's new, and he usually likes to add something about how much he likes tall girls, which makes me a little uncomfortable because he's old enough to be my grandfather, but that's ok. He also defends us when someone is rude or inconsiderate and he has some great stories to share. His music isn't too bad, either.

Then there's Chyna. Yeah, Chyna as in the wrestler turned reality TV star turned addict who then went back to reality TV. She lives in the area and works out at the gym across the street. She is probably one of the sweetest people I've ever met. She is super chatty with me and always remembers our conversations. When I was studying for the LSAT she would, without fail, ask me how it was going. She gets either a mocha with soy or a caramel macchiato with soy and, apparently, will ask for me if she doesn't see me. She might not be the best role model, but by getting to know her just a little bit, I'm rooting for her to pull through and gain success.

It's people like these that really make me appreciate working in customer service. Every time I see one of them, I'm reminded that if I were working in any other profession, I wouldn't meet such interesting characters, and we all know that the characters are the ones that make life interesting!

The keys that are not polluting our ocean somewhere...

I was having lunch with my good friend Dr. Beckie and her boyfriend Mr. Cote today and I shared one of my hilarious Starbucks tales with them and realized, I hadn’t entered it into the blogosphere!

Before I begin, however, I would like to say that it might not be as hilarious as I make it out to be and if you’re disappointed, I’m sorry. (*After re-reading this before posting, I realize it is a little offensive. Therefore, if you are easily offended and are going to feel the need to report me to some equal rights organization, please stop reading.)

So I’m working on a mid-shift one Saturday afternoon and Fabricio, a barista who’s not actually named Fabricio but once answered the phone and gave that name therefore giving me a great nickname for him, comes up to me and tells me there is a man who would like to speak with the “person in charge.” Being the “person in charge” in a situation where someone wants to talk to you is NEVER a good thing. If they are wanting to speak with you to give you a compliment about how fabulous one of the baristas is, not only is it awkward because all you can do is agree, but you also begin to feel pressured into publicly humiliating the barista by telling him how amazing this one customers says he is. If the customer is complaining on the other hand, then it becomes time wasted out of my life trying to make someone who just wants to bitch happy. Either way, being “in charge” sucks.

I walk up to the guy and he tells me that he dropped his keys into the toilet and the toilet “flushed them away.” We have those automatic flushers that are supposed to help the environment by using less water or are more sanitary or whatever. No matter what it’s used for, apparently the flusher was strong enough to flush this man’s keys away.

After he tells me that the toilet has pretty much stolen his keys, he asks what I am going to do about it. Now, you have to picture me, towering over this short Latino with my hand over my mouth trying not to burst out laughing in his face. Who the hell drops their keys in the toilet and is not fast enough to get them back out?! Not only that, but who the hell is dumb enough to think that there is some possible way to get these keys back?!

I stare at him trying to come up with a solution and the only thing I can think of is to call our facilities system and see what they have to say about it. I walk in the back and take about 5 minutes to compose myself because I can’t stop laughing. I call facilities, and after explaining the dilemma to the person on the other end, have to wait a good 10 minutes for her to stop laughing and relaying the story to everyone around her. Her solution is to either have the plumber come out and approve the overtime (it is Saturday after all), or just telling the man he’s SOL. I opt for neither.

I walk out to the man, who has now been joined by a small Asian woman who is speaking very quickly in Spanish to this man. He looks like a small child being chastised by his mother after stealing a cookie from the cookie jar, which just makes my attempts at professionalism even harder. He gestures at me and before I even reach them, the Munchkin comes at me. “You get keys! Must get keys!”

“Listen, they are going to send out a plumber, but because it’s Saturday, I don’t know when he will get here or if he will even get here today. What I can do right now is get your name and phone number so if he comes out and is able to retrieve your keys, I will call you immediately.” I hoped that her lack of English and my superior fabrication skills would lead this to be the end of our conversation. I should know better.

“No. You get keys! We no get home! You get keys!”

“Ma’am, there is nothing more I can do.”

“Ok, I give you phone number and you call.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You give me phone number and I call you later.” So I give her the store phone number and take her information. She grabs her husband’s(?) hand and practically drags him out of the store, cursing in Spanish the whole time. Trilingual people scare me.

As they are walking out, Fabricio brings up a very good point: “What if they keys are stuck in the pipe and that causes the toilet to overflow? We don’t know how big this guy’s keys were…” So now I have to close down the men’s restroom, flush the toilet a few times myself to make sure, and then keep the men’s restroom closed, just in case.

After about an hour, the phone rings.

“StarbucksDowntownBurbankthisisKimmihowcanIhelpyou?” By saying it super fast, I always hope that the person will get the hint that I’m busy and don’t have time to deal with whatever it is they need from me right now. Once, again, I should know better.

“You get keys!” Now, she has said this to me several times today, yet, never has she phrased it as a question. Amazing.

“No ma’am, we have not found your keys. I will call you if we find them, but I think you should know that it is very unlikely that we will find them.”

“Ok, you call when you find.” Click.

When I left, I told the story to the next shift lead on, who laughed his ass off, but agreed that we should keep the men’s room closed just in case. Apparently, about 2 hours after I left, she called again and was outraged that we still had not found her keys. Before closing, she called again, made a big deal about how her keys should have been found by now, frustrating one of the baristas so much he said, “Look lady, your keys are probably halfway to the ocean right now, so you just need to get a new set and get over it.”

She never called again.

I'm gonna let someone else rant..

Since I have made the decision to stop complaining about my job so much, I'm not going to.

I'm going to let Mike, aka triple venti skinny vanilla latte do the complaining for me. For anyone who thinks I'm over-exaggerating, read it and you'll see that even some of the customers get it. Plus, he's an awesome writer totally worth reading anyway!

I guess it's not that great of a story...Sorry

I opened today, which is something I normally complain a lot about because I am the exact opposite of a morning person. I can stay up all night, but if I have to get up before 8 am, I have a lot of trouble functioning. Forming full sentences and making decisions is kind of beyone me when I open. Now, I’m not complaining because it was actually a pretty strange, entertaining day. At least on my end...

First of all, poor Chad was supposed to open at another store, but got double scheduled. Chad is one of my favorite people to open with because I don’t have to tell him what to do and we can chat while working, so I get to hang out with my friend at work. It’s fun. Anyway…My lovely store manager comes in and when I tell her what happened, she attempts to blame Chad! Since I am the only one who really calls my SM out on her shit, I said, “It’s not his fault that you and the other SM couldn’t communicate properly and double booked him. Plus, at least he showed up here and not at the other store.” She shut up after that.

Then, it was dead. We always get a rush at about 730 am and are fairly busy until 830, then we get slammed from 9 to 10. Today, not only did we not get our early rush, but we didn’t even get truly busy until almost noon. It was creepy.

The best part though, had to be when my douchebag of a district manager showed up about 10 minutes before I was off, when it was just me on bar (never a good thing) and Fabricio(aka Jason) on the reg. DB DM starts floating the line and not only does he write drinks incorrectly, but he doesn’t call out milks. Not usually a big deal, but when there is a huge line, calling out milks makes the drink making process go much faster. So, in my irritated, exhausted state, I decide to coach DM on how to float the line properly. I do it in a nice way, but when you have to explain to your boss how to do something as basic as float the line, it’s a little sad.

I ended up staying an extra hour (woo hoo overtime!) and almost had to go back in to close because the lead called out. But, even with all of this drama and craziness, it wasn’t the worst day I’ve had at work. I still have a long way to go before I enjoy it though…

I want to be a ballerina

When you are working on your resume, there seems to be a consensus about the most important thing: the objective. It gives the resume a focus. It shows the employer what your goal is. It helps you stand out.

So what do you write if you really don’t know what your goal is? What do you write if you don’t know what the true focus of your life’s work is? What do you put down for your objective if your only objective right now is to no longer have to serve coffee to idiots who don’t know what they are ordering or who don’t care that you don’t get paid enough to have to deal with all their bullshit? In other words, what would someone with a degree from Berkeley write when all she wants to do is find a job that will pay her fairly well and get her the hell out of Starbucks?

This is my current dilemma. I was sitting at Aroma today thinking about this. I’ve actually been thinking about this for quite awhile but it became even more apparent today because I was supposed to talk to my Aunt Stacey about all of my fabulous work experience and how we can make my resume even more amazing but, of course, we are now playing a mean game of phone tag and instead of getting some feedback on how to make myself appear even more awesome, I am waiting. It’s not my Aunt’s fault that she is supermom who has a career and two kids playing sports to take care of or that my hours are completely unpredictable. Anyway, so this is why my objective is on my mind.

I have so many things that I would love to do and that I’m interested in, I’m really having trouble in general, so writing an objective about where I want to be is something that is making me stress. I would love to work in something that would make me feel like my degree in English was not a total waste of time, but at the same time I don’t want to limit myself. As I have said before, I think publishing would be the most logical step because it would allow me to be somewhat creative and, while I don’t really think I would make a very good writer, knowing that I had something to do with the process of putting a book on the shelves would make me happy. If I have to start out working in “new media” as a reader or something, that’s great, but for me, I’m all about books because they are tangible objects. Like Giles on Buffy said, “Books smell musty and rich…If it’s to last then the getting of knowledge should be, uh, tangible, and it should be, um, smelly.”

There are also a lot of other things I can see myself doing, though. I am nothing if not a great partier, so something in party planning could be good, although I don’t know how well I’d be able to handle a crazy bride or a spoiled 16 year-old. Angelica has pointed out that she could see me doing something in fashion because I own more shoes than her entire family combined. It has also been said that I would be great at owning my own business, although what that business would be is beyond me because owning a business requires money, which I have very little of. There are a ton of things that I could do, but the issue is figuring out which one of these fabulous careers I would like to pursue, especially when all the experience I have is in slinging ice cream or pushing coffee.

Yeah yeah, I know. Transferable skills. Blah Blah. I get it. But when it comes to the shitty economy we are in right now, no one wants to hire someone with great transferable skills that they have to spend the money to train.

All of this rambling is basically just a way of me whining and asking: What the hell is my objective?

Sometimes the inapporpriate jokes are the best...

While today was a fairly eventful day at work (what with the oven smoking, Ellen spilling everything within the first 30 seconds she's there, and us being out of all the things people want), I think the highlight was that Chad made a funny joke, something truly rare. Here's how it went:

Ali (a Jewish girl who always makes jokes about herself being Jewish, like when I told her that she wasn't going to be able to toast her bagel and she said, "I'm a Jew, I don't need to toast my bagel"): Kimmi, honey, would you mind re-brewing that coffee for me?

Kimmi (Who is exhausted because she hates to open and has done so the past 2 days and is stressed out because the oven is broken and the DM is probably going to come in and point out all the things that are wrong instead of seeing how she's busting her ass to get everything fixed):
For sure, Christmas right?

(Christmas meaning Christmas blend, otherwise known as the best seasonal coffee ever)

Chad (Who usually makes comments that he thinks are funny while trying to make everyone laugh but really just annoy Kimmi, especially in the morning when she is tired and cranky): Huh, no wonder she doesn't want to brew it.

I actually had to put down what I was doing because I started laughing so hard. Reading it back now, it might be one of those you-had-to-be-there stories, but I don't really care, cuz it was DAMN HILARIOUS!

A riddle with a hobo twist...AKA reason number 9,642 why I hate my job

So what do you do when a homeless man comes in with orange boxers and no pants comes into your Starbucks asking if you have any extra pants?

Ask him to leave.

What does a homeless man with orange boxers and no pants say to you after you ask him to leave?

“Why don’t you just slit my throat, cut off my dick, and cut off my balls? You murderous bitch!” (verbatim).

What do you do after a homeless man with orange boxers and no pants calls you a murderous bitch?

Call the good ole Burbank PD and let them deal with him.

Just another manic Monday….

This is why people hate hobos (and one more reason why I hate my job)

Transients. Vagabonds. Tramps. Vagrants.

These are some of the terms used to describe homeless people, "transients" being the preferred term used at Starbucks. They come into Starbucks and bother customers not because they are begging or doing anything remotely disturbing, but more because their mere presence just makes people nervous. To be completely honest, when I first started working at Starbucks, I was definitely one of these people who got nervous when a homeless person walked in the door or came up to the register. But, the more I met them and talked to them, the more I realized that they are not all smelly, scary drug addicts. Some of the them are, of course, but more times than not, they are actually really nice people who are perfectly willing to pay for their drinks and will take whatever you can give them. These are the ones that I would call "transients."

There are, however, times when the homeless people do not deserve this word. Like when they take a shower in the sink in the bathroom, leaving dirty water all over the floor and in the sink. Or when we are nice enough to give them the pastries we are throwing out at the end of the night and they have the nerve to make a mess with them in the lobby rather than just eating them, and then not clean it up. Or when they come in and beg for free stuff and then complain that all we give them is a small coffee. "Can't I get a Frappuccino?" Or, like today, when they destroy our restroom and I have to clean it up. These are not "transients." They are HOBOs. If that offends you, then read on and you'll know where I'm coming from.

So it's about 9 am and I've been there since 4:45 am, so I'm already tired and I tend to hate people worse in the morning than any other time of day. A customer comes up to me as I'm talking to our delivery guy, and tells me that the men's restroom needs to be cleaned ASAP. I tell him thank you and I'll get right on it. As I'm saying this, of course another man walks in, uses the bathroom, then walks out and tells me that the men's restroom needs to be cleaned ASAP. Once again, I say thank you and I'll get right on it. Then, sure enough, as I'm telling my baristas that I'm going to go clean the restroom, Chris, one of our regulars who saw the two guys before him tell me that the men's restroom needs to be cleaned, walks into the men's room and walks right back out saying, "Geez, that's terrible. You need to clean it right away!" (Chris is definitely a douchebag who is unrealistically demanding and treats our store like he owns it. Always moving furniture to suit him and walking up to the bar before getting in line asking us to start his drink. I hate him, but he's a regular and sometimes interesting to talk to, so I have to put up with him.) I snap back at him, "Well Chris, I can't get in there to clean it if people keep walking in and using it!" He left after that. I'll wait for the formal complaint.

I finally get into the bathroom and am completely grossed out. Someone had gone Number 2, missed the toilet (or had a total disregard for it), then proceeded to step in it and walk around the restroom. There was not only shit all over the toilet and floor, but there were shit-footprints all over the bathroom. I was so mad and disgusted, I had trouble keeping my composure.

After getting a mop and the Starbucks-approved bleach-like restroom cleaner, I begin to clean the restroom and try to keep my breakfast in my stomach, unwilling to clean up my own vomit in addition to the shit I am now cleaning up. The smell is so bad that I don't even attempt to refill the air freshener, I just spray the bleach-like cleaner all over the bathroom, where I am discovering more poo all over. On the faucet. On the trashcan. On the paper towel holder. On the toiler paper cover and on the toilet paper. On the handicap bar. On door. Everywhere.

On one of my many I-have-to-get-some-air-before-I-puke breaks, I notice that there is shit on the floor in front of the retail display. In horror, I look up and see there is a trail of shit-footprints going out through the lobby and out the door. I clean it up really quickly before any customers can notice exactly what it is I'm cleaning up. That's when one of the baristas tells me who it was.

It was a hobo. He had come in and my barista noticed him because he had all his bags. She said the guy who went into the restroom after him was the first one to tell me the bathroom needed to be cleaned. Great. Just when I was getting used to the "transients," one comes in and does this. Fab.

I already have very little faith in mankind after seeing the disrespect people have for my place of business, let alone me or my co-workers, but it's when things like this happen that I just completely lose it. I understand that this man had something horrible happen in his life to make him the way that he is, but I cannot understand or be sympathetic at all to someone who is going to go into any place and do that. It is exactly why I hate working in customer/food service. Even when it's something much smaller than this, like leaving your cups on a table instead of dropping them in the trashcan on the way out or spilling sugar and not cleaning it up, it still gets to me. I don't care how big of a hurry I'm in, I can ALWAYS manage to find a trashcan to drop my trash into and at the very least, sweep my spilled sugar into the trash. I feel that anyone who does this should be forced to do my job for a month and see all the things I see. I am not a maid and I am not a servant. Don't treat me like one.

The rest of my shift wasn't too bad after that, but, really, how does it get worse than cleaning up shit?

Channeling Left Eye...

Me (in my best customer service voice): Hi, how's it going?

Girl (who's hair is all over the place and is wearing clothes that look like she has been wearing them for a few days): Not good. I just got outta jail.


Me: Wow...(awkward pause) I'm sorry about that.

Chad(who has no tact): What'd you do?

Me: CHAD!

Girl: I found him fucking some other bitch so I slapped the shit outta him, and the mother fucker called the goddamn cops!!!

Me: Wow....(laughs uncontrollably, having to hold on to the counter to keep from collapsing in a fit of giggles)

Girl: And you know the worst part about it? My mugshot was fuckin cute!

Me: Well at least you have a new MySpace pic!

Girl: Thanks, that the first laugh I've had in two days!



Now that's living!

And away we go....

So I have wanted to start blogging for a long time, but it has always been much like keeping a journal to me, which I have never done for an extended period of time. But, as someone who really has no idea what I am going to do with my life, I really do think I need to do something that will give me insight into myself and the person I want to be. If I find it through blogging and just expressing my thoughts and feelings to the world wide web, then yay!!! If not, then it's really nothing lost, right?

I got the idea for the title from the most recent Tyler Perry movie, The Family that Preys. I feel a little silly about picking a blog title from a movie, but it was a quote that really made me think. Right now, today, I would say I am definitely not living, I am just existing.

I work at Starbucks, which I hate, but cannot leave until I find another job. I'm not willing to just find any another job, though, because I don't want to work at some other bullshit, waste of my time job. I want something that will help me find out what I want to do for the rest of my life. Although, I guess if I really think about it, I can successfully say I do not want to work in the food/customer service industry. But I kind of already knew that, otherwise I wouldn't have bothered going to Berkeley.

I have been thinking about law school for a long time now, longer than most people know. After touring a few and talking to some students, I don't know if it's for me. While the schools seem great, I just don't know if it's what I want to do. I think that the law is really interesting and anyone who knows me knows I like to argue, but is that something I want to do on a daily basis? I just don't know...

It's hard to believe that I've been out of school for almost a year. This time last year, I was getting ready to go to Santa Barbara for Halloween and getting ready to graduate. I feel like I haven't really done anything, other than work at Starbucks, which in my opinion is really not something that consider "doing something." I guess the only think I can do is keep trying to live, instead of exist....