First and foremost, I am absolutely astounded that people actually read my blog. I'm convinced that blogger is doubling the numbers and it's just my mom looking at it multiple times. Or maybe some of you are actually enjoying it? Either way, it's nuts.
Second, you should anticipate many entries about Starbucks because it is just nuts. As the night shift supervisor, Ronnida, says, "I could make webisodes of this place." Yes, she definitely could. So instead of webisode, I'm making blog entries.
You must understand that I am clearly the whitest girl that works there, but they excuse it because they know I'm from the Middle-of-Nowhere, Pennsylvania. Ronnida came up to me the other week as I was going on my break and says, "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure", I respond.
"Are you from Pennsylvania Dutch territory?"
"Well, yeah."
"I knew it!", she exclaims. "You have that kind of an accent."
Well, I've never been told that I've had an accent before, and I'm not sure what to think about it. See, I've always made fun of people that have that twang (just ask my mom when she says the word "measure" around Ian and I.) Darn it, I guess everything comes full circle.
I'm also the clumsiest person that they have probably ever had working at this Starbucks. I knock stacks of cups and lids all over the floor on a regular basis, send pastries flying through the air, and leave the spout open when brewing coffee, resulting in a very, very large, steamy puddle.
This past Monday, I was dumping out coffee as one of my co-workers, Lauren, went to rinse a pitcher out at the same time. The result was me blasting the back of her hand with 200 degree coffee. She put some cream and a bandage over it, but it was so bad that my manager, Shad, had to go to Rite Aid and get her super-intense gauze to put over her super-intense bandage. I felt absolutely terrible, but Lauren wasn't angry, which was a blessing. *Sigh* They are totally going to fire me soon.
But alas, one precious moment I was lucky to be the bystander instead of the one causing problems. Ronnida was dismantling the iced coffee machine to wash it, when all of a sudden the spout goes flying off and iced coffee starts shooting (shooting, not just pouring; it was moving with force) across the entire bar.
"Oh gracious! Oh gracious!", she starts yelling. At this point, I'm doubled over because: 1) I'm grateful this isn't happening to me, and 2) it's just hilarious.
"Alisha! Would you stop laughing and come here!?"
So I compose myself and run over and stick my finger in the machine. I definitely felt like the little Dutch kid in the story who plugged the dam with his finger, which I suppose is appropriate since I already have the accent. I should also mention that this came full circle: later, I forgot to close the spout as I was cleaning the coffee urn, so hot water started dripping on the counter, down the cabinets, and onto the floor.
Finally, I am appalled and somewhat disgusted at how many guys hit on me while I'm taking their order. I'm wearing an apron that makes a burlap sack look fashionable with bags under my eyes because I've been working since 4:15 am. (On a side note: I'm sure it's a lot more guys than I notice since I'm 99% oblivious to this type of thing; Steven went out of his way for 3 weeks to hit on me before we started dating and I didn't realize it until our one year anniversary....)
Except this next situation was pretty obvious. I was working on restocking the pastry case, when this mid-20's guy comes over. He has the audacity to say, "You know, I looked at you, and I looked at those pastries, and I asked myself, 'Which one would be more delicious?' And I decided you were."
Oh. gracious.
Where do I even begin with this? Oh, I know: GROSS! But since I'm not allowed to tell off customers at work, I just said, "Thank you?"and decided I should get my huge diamond ring cleaned that my husband gave me. I guess this happens frequently at Starbucks, because my female co-workers were zero help, although I did see one of our regular customers, Pete, shooting daggers at him with his eyes. All I have to say is, I hope this translates into some awesome tips.
So that's my job, which has proven to be much more interesting and challenging than I ever thought it would be. But Ronnida is right, we could totally make some webisodes about this place.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
People are people.
So Starbucks is actually really well. I'm astonished, probably erroneously, that my fellow employees like me and like working with me. I'm becoming more accustomed to the high maintenance crowd and I'm learning to respond positively to their ridiculous complaints without emotionally internalizing them or giving them a sarcastic reply, which would be oh so easy to do (especially for me).
However, there was one day where they just got to me. I actually had the day off, but I was still really edgy from working the weekend, which is a madhouse. I headed to the post office to send out some shoes, expecting the process to be easy; I had a pre-paid label, the box was taped and ready to go. I should have known better. I stand in line for 10 minutes, and this Superman looking guy calls me up to wait on me. He has a thick Southern accent and mumbles constantly so I have no idea what is he saying. He muttered something, which I picked up as "You can't have that tape on your box". I look at him like he has six heads, and not feeling particularly up for this Battle of the Tape, he reads my mind and says that's been the rule since Christmas. Seeing as how I don't frequent the post office to send out packages and they don't send out memos about this thing, I became frustrated. But Mr. Mumbles was nice and handed me new tape as he disappeared to wait on someone else.
All of a sudden, this guy comes over and says "You can't use that tape! WHERE did you get that tape?!" So I point to Mumbles, and this guy disappears. The tape runs out, so I ask a lady for more. "WHERE did you get that tape?! You can't use that tape!!". She is literally yelling at me. In a post office. Over tape. Oh, seriously? Since I'm on edge, I start to crack. I point at Mumbles, and she says "Oh, you shouldn't have that tape" and disappears.
Recap: 3 people tell me I have the wrong tape, and three people disappear. Where to is beyond me, since it is a post office. I have also been scolded by two of them.
Then elderly Korean Eugene walks over. "Can I have more tape?" "Where you get that tape?", he responds. I'm sure Mumbles at this point is tired of me pointing at him, but I do it again. "Oh no, you suppose to use different tape." And I cracked. "Can you just send this out?!" and I leave the box there, not even making sure it gets sent where it needs to go, step outside of the post office, and start sobbing. Over tape. How embarrassing.
If you ask Steven to tell this story, it goes something like this: "Well, I got this really angry email at work about people in a post office and something about tape. Then I get home, half a bottle of wine is gone, and she's still upset about the post office. I just don't get it."
But it's not about tape or coffee or anything like that. I was truly upset because the urban mentality of life is quite a bit different than the State College mentality of life, and that's harder to get used to then trying to find your way around or adjusting to being away from familiar faces. the difference between commanding and asking, expectations and acknowledgment, and quite frankly, just being a decent human being (ie, respect, politeness, kindness, etc.). And for someone as emotional and introverted as I, it's a tough pill to swallow since: 1) I don't like being a doormat and 2) I have been known, once or twice (... or more), to use my words as my best defense.
But I just don't get it- in what world do people get off treating other people like dirt? Does it happen at some point when they have the life they want, complete with money, a career, and a car, that they feel like those who don't have those things are lesser than they are? Or are people born that way?
The one thing I have learned from various missions trips is that people are people. Everyone is different, but we are all people. We are made of the same stuff. And it breaks my heart that not everyone can see that :(
However, there was one day where they just got to me. I actually had the day off, but I was still really edgy from working the weekend, which is a madhouse. I headed to the post office to send out some shoes, expecting the process to be easy; I had a pre-paid label, the box was taped and ready to go. I should have known better. I stand in line for 10 minutes, and this Superman looking guy calls me up to wait on me. He has a thick Southern accent and mumbles constantly so I have no idea what is he saying. He muttered something, which I picked up as "You can't have that tape on your box". I look at him like he has six heads, and not feeling particularly up for this Battle of the Tape, he reads my mind and says that's been the rule since Christmas. Seeing as how I don't frequent the post office to send out packages and they don't send out memos about this thing, I became frustrated. But Mr. Mumbles was nice and handed me new tape as he disappeared to wait on someone else.
All of a sudden, this guy comes over and says "You can't use that tape! WHERE did you get that tape?!" So I point to Mumbles, and this guy disappears. The tape runs out, so I ask a lady for more. "WHERE did you get that tape?! You can't use that tape!!". She is literally yelling at me. In a post office. Over tape. Oh, seriously? Since I'm on edge, I start to crack. I point at Mumbles, and she says "Oh, you shouldn't have that tape" and disappears.
Recap: 3 people tell me I have the wrong tape, and three people disappear. Where to is beyond me, since it is a post office. I have also been scolded by two of them.
Then elderly Korean Eugene walks over. "Can I have more tape?" "Where you get that tape?", he responds. I'm sure Mumbles at this point is tired of me pointing at him, but I do it again. "Oh no, you suppose to use different tape." And I cracked. "Can you just send this out?!" and I leave the box there, not even making sure it gets sent where it needs to go, step outside of the post office, and start sobbing. Over tape. How embarrassing.
If you ask Steven to tell this story, it goes something like this: "Well, I got this really angry email at work about people in a post office and something about tape. Then I get home, half a bottle of wine is gone, and she's still upset about the post office. I just don't get it."
But it's not about tape or coffee or anything like that. I was truly upset because the urban mentality of life is quite a bit different than the State College mentality of life, and that's harder to get used to then trying to find your way around or adjusting to being away from familiar faces. the difference between commanding and asking, expectations and acknowledgment, and quite frankly, just being a decent human being (ie, respect, politeness, kindness, etc.). And for someone as emotional and introverted as I, it's a tough pill to swallow since: 1) I don't like being a doormat and 2) I have been known, once or twice (... or more), to use my words as my best defense.
But I just don't get it- in what world do people get off treating other people like dirt? Does it happen at some point when they have the life they want, complete with money, a career, and a car, that they feel like those who don't have those things are lesser than they are? Or are people born that way?
The one thing I have learned from various missions trips is that people are people. Everyone is different, but we are all people. We are made of the same stuff. And it breaks my heart that not everyone can see that :(
Monday, September 12, 2011
Family
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| My original family... |
As you can see, my blog got a face lift via inspiration by my sister-in-law Brenda. Brenda is more tech-savvy and a heck of a lot more stylish than I am, so when I saw her working on it (during the Penn State game, that's how we know she married in :-p-but props to her for even being in the same room as football for 3 hours)), I felt like I should follow in her footsteps. Maybe her stylish side will start to rub off on me too... one can always dream, right?
It is no secret that my "family" had been multiplied over the past three months. I have acquired a new set of parents in the form of in-laws, one brother-in-law and three sisters-in-law (I've always wanted a sister, and in the matter of one month I got three. Talk about an abundance of blessings.) And along with the "who" of my family being rearranged, my definition of family has been altered as well. I can state 100% that marrying into the Holdcrofts has positively changed the way that I view family.
Before I met them, family to me was the people that I lived with and some people that I saw on holidays. On my dad's side, I have 22 first cousins and I am the youngest of 8 grandchildren on my mom's side, so I wasn't really close with my extended family. Family were the people that you obligatorily loved, with the select few whom you actually really loved (as I got older, this has changed; I am now close with most of my cousins on my mom's side, and it's awesome when we are together). I had my mom, dad, and brother, and as far as I was concerned, that's really all I needed. When I was in trouble, I had them; when I needed money, I had them (I was usually told to work more hours, however); and when something great happened, we celebrated together.
But then I started dating Steven, and I met one of the kindest, generous, and most chaotic families that exists. Steven is the oldest of 4 and had the energy of a puppy on Five Hour Energy, which set the precedent for the other 3 kids. Each of them played 2 sports seriously, and had a multitude of other activities on top of it. They are always going here or there, spending weekends in Pittsburgh or where the latest tournament is, and planning their next adventure. But despite all of the business, or because of it, they all love spending time together. The first few times I was at the Holdcrofts, I was flabbergasted that all 4 kids were home on Friday hanging out together. I was like, "Who would want to be at home on the weekend when you could go out with friends?! I just want to be out of my house!" But they genuinely love spending time together; they respect each other, compete amiably, and jest affectionately at one another.
That was a radical new idea for me: wanting to spend time with family over friends. And as I was pondering that, I started observing what made the Holdcroft family different from the Brodie family, and it's quite basic: 1) the Holdcrofts (immediate and extended, and the Arnolds as well) are much smaller (Steven has a TOTAL of 6 first cousins) and live in a mostly concentrated area so it's easier to grow together; and 2) Tim and Michele live their lives by one word: give. You give 100% of yourself and your resources to whatever you commit to, whether it is time, energy, money, or whatever else you have. And when it comes to family, you give 150%. (This is not to say that the Brodie family is a bunch of slackers, but its easier to observe something when you are an outsider of the situation. Your shout-out goes without saying.)
Tim and Michele have been abundantly generous to Steven and I from the beginning. From 4 years of long distance dating to a quick engagement and a hurried summer, they have been there every step of the way with open arms, ready and willing to do whatever they can for us. So I've tried adopting that philosophy into my own life. When it comes to my siblings (whether full or legal), Steven and I try to do the best we can for them during the moments that we are together, whether it's going to Kiwi, filling up a gas tank, cooking dinner, or being a Bed and Breakfast for the weekend. We give because we want to, because we were taught by the best, and because family deserves 150% of our efforts. And hopefully someday, we will be able to give back to them a fraction of what they have given to us.
It is much like the Parable of the Talents found in Matthew 25:14-30. We have a little now, but we want to bless others with what we have. If we do that, then we will have an "abundance" promised to us. And I know that Steven and I are already excited to give it our all. Just like we were taught.
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| ...my new family! |
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Happy Natural Disaster Week!
As far as nature is concerned, it has been quite the eventful week. First, there was a 5.8 magnitude earthquake on Tuesday. Then, there was a Category 1 hurricane this weekend. Now, as far as numbers go, they aren't terribly large and aren't expected to cause a lot of destruction. But for a city whose biggest problem is heat and a big snow storm every few years, both of these cause a lot of hype.
I had the day off on Tuesday, so I was just sitting down to lunch when I heard the rumble. The entire thing lasted 30 seconds, but the rumble lasted for at least 10. When I was in Peru in 2009, we had two earthquakes, so my immediate reaction was, "Huh, this feels like that. No way." So I sat and tried to think logically what it could be. "Well, the laundry room is right below us, but that couldn't be it. They aren't doing construction, so that's not it." Pause "Oh wait, now the walls are shaking."
It was at this point that I determined that there is no logical reasoning in my brain during emergency situations. My adrenaline takes over and that's that, which makes me a lousy candidate for any EMS job potentials. I did a quick analysis and determined that I'd rather be outside instead of under a table, and hey, my building wasn't collapsing at the moment, so I sprinted for the door. The door to the building is about 10 feet away, so it wasn't hard to get there. It was only then, when I was the very first person outside, I realized that 1) I was clutching the tofu that I was about to eat for lunch (how classy...) and 2) my response probably could have been dumbed down about 10x and things would have been fine.
When I was in Peru, I woke up to the earthquake. Once again, I thought it wasn't possible, but I realized that everything was shaking. I could make out the walls in the dark, which looked like waves, starting at the bottom and rippling up to the top. I'm not the happiest or most caring person in the world when woken up, so I thought "Eh, it's an earthquake, it will be over soon." And it ended and I went back to sleep. The walls didn't look like that here (Peruvian building codes are slightly different), but I could still see the entire building and surrounding building shaking, which gets your heart racing. Another difference is that I had zero ability to calm myself down, and I'm pretty sure that has to do with one reason and one reason only: in Peru, I only had to watch out for myself (and apparently, when I'm sleeping I really don't care what happens to me). But now, I have Steven. I could not stop thinking about him. I knew that he's smart and strong and was fine, but I just wanted to hear his voice or get an email or something saying that everything was okay (I'm sure all married women can relate). Two hours later, he was at our door, and then finally I could breath again.
Californians hear/feel a 5.8 earthquake and continue on their merry way. DCers feel a 5.8 earthquake and freak, not just because they aren't used to it, but for a different reason. I challenge you to think of it this way: the earthquake started as a rumble for 10 seconds, and then everything started shaking. Almost 10 years ago exactly, a similar situation happened in the Pentagon. They heard a rumble getting closer and closer, and heard a huge crash as everything started shaking there and in the surrounding area. I think if you or I worked in the Pentagon on September 11, 2001 and still worked there today, we would be justified in our over-reaction.
Regardless, here is some political satire for your enjoyment:
I started questioning where exactly I had moved to once I found out that there was a hurricane that was most definitely going to hit us this weekend. Steven peaced out to Rhode Island to visit friends, so I had to hunker down by myself. It should be known that I absolutely hate being alone at night, so I was more afraid of that then this stinking hurricane. Honestly, I was pretty apathetic. Two months ago, our power went out for a night unexpectedly, and we didn't have flashlights or a lighter to light the two candles that we actually have. Apparently, that didn't phase us because we still don't have flashlights or a lighter. I tried to go to Target on Friday to get flashlights, but since they were sold out because the entire metro area was all hyped up about it, I gave up and went home.
Maybe it's because I'm from Pennsylvania and 1) we get a crap-ton of rain every spring (let's revisit the 24 days in April that it rained constantly, shall we?), and 2) the power goes out periodically. For snow storms, for thunderstorms, for no reason at all, the power just goes out. And it always comes back on. It was predicted that Irene would be full-force around 2 am, so I figured that I would go to sleep, the power would go out, and then it would be back on by 9 pm or so when it gets dark. And if all else fails, I'd just go to Ian and Brenda's. Probably not the best plan ever, but it turned out in my favor this time.
All in all, Arlington was only hit mildly. A couple of trees down and power outages, nothing huge. But the further east and south you moved, the worse it was. In Annapolis, the place was flooded by 9 pm. Alexandria was flooded then as well. About 20 miles south, there is still 3-4 feet of water on the roads. Asbury Park was pummeled, as well as the Outer Banks. Here, it just rained and was windy from 1 pm Saturday until about 9 am on Sunday. Nothing terrible.
I can't help but think of the pioneers who went before us who didn't have the media or technology to know that a hurricane was coming their way. "Huh, it looks like its going to rain..." And then it's a hurricane. But if they could do it, we can too, and probably a million times better.
At least we know.
I had the day off on Tuesday, so I was just sitting down to lunch when I heard the rumble. The entire thing lasted 30 seconds, but the rumble lasted for at least 10. When I was in Peru in 2009, we had two earthquakes, so my immediate reaction was, "Huh, this feels like that. No way." So I sat and tried to think logically what it could be. "Well, the laundry room is right below us, but that couldn't be it. They aren't doing construction, so that's not it." Pause "Oh wait, now the walls are shaking."
It was at this point that I determined that there is no logical reasoning in my brain during emergency situations. My adrenaline takes over and that's that, which makes me a lousy candidate for any EMS job potentials. I did a quick analysis and determined that I'd rather be outside instead of under a table, and hey, my building wasn't collapsing at the moment, so I sprinted for the door. The door to the building is about 10 feet away, so it wasn't hard to get there. It was only then, when I was the very first person outside, I realized that 1) I was clutching the tofu that I was about to eat for lunch (how classy...) and 2) my response probably could have been dumbed down about 10x and things would have been fine.
When I was in Peru, I woke up to the earthquake. Once again, I thought it wasn't possible, but I realized that everything was shaking. I could make out the walls in the dark, which looked like waves, starting at the bottom and rippling up to the top. I'm not the happiest or most caring person in the world when woken up, so I thought "Eh, it's an earthquake, it will be over soon." And it ended and I went back to sleep. The walls didn't look like that here (Peruvian building codes are slightly different), but I could still see the entire building and surrounding building shaking, which gets your heart racing. Another difference is that I had zero ability to calm myself down, and I'm pretty sure that has to do with one reason and one reason only: in Peru, I only had to watch out for myself (and apparently, when I'm sleeping I really don't care what happens to me). But now, I have Steven. I could not stop thinking about him. I knew that he's smart and strong and was fine, but I just wanted to hear his voice or get an email or something saying that everything was okay (I'm sure all married women can relate). Two hours later, he was at our door, and then finally I could breath again.
Californians hear/feel a 5.8 earthquake and continue on their merry way. DCers feel a 5.8 earthquake and freak, not just because they aren't used to it, but for a different reason. I challenge you to think of it this way: the earthquake started as a rumble for 10 seconds, and then everything started shaking. Almost 10 years ago exactly, a similar situation happened in the Pentagon. They heard a rumble getting closer and closer, and heard a huge crash as everything started shaking there and in the surrounding area. I think if you or I worked in the Pentagon on September 11, 2001 and still worked there today, we would be justified in our over-reaction.
Regardless, here is some political satire for your enjoyment:
I started questioning where exactly I had moved to once I found out that there was a hurricane that was most definitely going to hit us this weekend. Steven peaced out to Rhode Island to visit friends, so I had to hunker down by myself. It should be known that I absolutely hate being alone at night, so I was more afraid of that then this stinking hurricane. Honestly, I was pretty apathetic. Two months ago, our power went out for a night unexpectedly, and we didn't have flashlights or a lighter to light the two candles that we actually have. Apparently, that didn't phase us because we still don't have flashlights or a lighter. I tried to go to Target on Friday to get flashlights, but since they were sold out because the entire metro area was all hyped up about it, I gave up and went home.
Maybe it's because I'm from Pennsylvania and 1) we get a crap-ton of rain every spring (let's revisit the 24 days in April that it rained constantly, shall we?), and 2) the power goes out periodically. For snow storms, for thunderstorms, for no reason at all, the power just goes out. And it always comes back on. It was predicted that Irene would be full-force around 2 am, so I figured that I would go to sleep, the power would go out, and then it would be back on by 9 pm or so when it gets dark. And if all else fails, I'd just go to Ian and Brenda's. Probably not the best plan ever, but it turned out in my favor this time.
All in all, Arlington was only hit mildly. A couple of trees down and power outages, nothing huge. But the further east and south you moved, the worse it was. In Annapolis, the place was flooded by 9 pm. Alexandria was flooded then as well. About 20 miles south, there is still 3-4 feet of water on the roads. Asbury Park was pummeled, as well as the Outer Banks. Here, it just rained and was windy from 1 pm Saturday until about 9 am on Sunday. Nothing terrible.
I can't help but think of the pioneers who went before us who didn't have the media or technology to know that a hurricane was coming their way. "Huh, it looks like its going to rain..." And then it's a hurricane. But if they could do it, we can too, and probably a million times better.
At least we know.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Starbucks.
I've had 3 successful shifts at Starbucks thus far, and it has been... interesting. I must intro with this disclaimer: I think I'm way too sarcastic to be the perfect barista Starbucks wants me to be. For example, part of my training (about 60 hours... in a coffee shop) includes coffee tasting and coffee pairing. My manager and I take out a bag of coffee, grind it, taste it, and then we are supposed to have a conversation about it, which usually goes something like this:Shad (my manager): "So, what do you taste?"
Me: "Uh... coffee."
Just to let you know, that is the wrong answer. I'm supposed to say something like, "Well, it tastes earthy with a hint of spices as it hits the back of my tongue, noting it's origin in the Asia/Pacific region." Maybe we'll get there.
Customers always prove to be an interesting experience as well. Yesterday I worked on the register the entire shift, which included translating orders ("Yes, I'd like a triple decaf iced grande soy 2 pumps sugar free vanilla latte with whip") into two letter abbreviations on cups and trying to ring it up in a decent amount of time. This one customer, a 5'6", 300 pound Samoan man in a purple shirt approached the counter and wanted a grande (that's a medium for us who speak English and not Starbucks) coffee. Easy beans. Check.
Awkward pause.
"Could I get another one?"
"Sure! You're total is $3.28"
He handed me the money and stared at me strangley. I handed him the change and gave him a polite smile. "Thank you", I said, which was nice for, "Okay, we're done."
"You have nice ice", he said.
Excuse me, what? I have nice ICE?? What is that supposed to mean?! Since I lack tact, that was pretty much the reaction I gave him.
"What?"
"You have nice eyes."
Oh. Heaven. Help. Me.
Once again, since I lack tact, I have absolutely no idea what to say to that besides, "Wow, I can't wait to tell Steven this," or "Uh, thanks, that's, uh, a nice large purple shirt?"
Heaven, in fact, did help me, so I said a quick "Thanks" and went somewhere other then in his line of sight. And on a side note, when I told Steven this, he told me to essentially "milk that for all it was worth- you could get good tips from that." Gee, thanks for the moral support, honey.
Before we get deep, let me call a half-time with this, since I'm SUPER excited for the start of football season:
P.S. According to Wikipedia, Mike Tomlin attends a CMA church in Squirrel Hill. Holler!!
On a different note, my co-workers are... you're typical 20-somethings. In short, their world is Starbucks, and outside of it, there are some other things that may or may not be as important, depending on what's happening with Starbucks that day. They are all friends, roommates, lover, or drinking buddies because of work. Most of them don't seem super-ambitious to find any other job, which I find strange. Their attitudes are generally poor and their language reflects it. Like in college, I feel like I'm about a million miles away from my peers. When they find out I'm 22 and married, their responses are as follows: "You're 22?! You look like you're 18! You're so young to be married! Do you have a kid?"
And, as in college, I find it very hard to explain myself to people who aren't even reading the same book I am, much less on the same page. Then, it was difficult to try and discuss: "No, I'm not career driven; Yes, I want to marry my boyfriend right after college; No, I've never had sex; Yes, I'm "religious" therefore I don't do drugs or drink to get drunk" to people whose main concern is how many weeknights they can get trashed and still graduate with a 3.0. Now, it's hard to explain: "Yes, I'm married young and get true joy out of serving my husband; No, I don't have a kid; No, I can't work Sunday mornings because I go to church; Yes, there is more to life then Starbucks and work in general."
Honestly, it's kind of heartbreaking. Once, I was getting lunch with Sarah Jones, and she was telling me that her first term in Berlin was character-building. And she said something that I'll never forget: "The thing that keeps me going is knowing that lost people matter to Jesus. And that makes me excited to go back for the second term."
Two things have been impressed upon my heart lately: 1) Lost people matter to Jesus, and 2) Colossians 3:23-24: "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you now that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." And I truly believe that if I live out that verse every single day, even if I don't feel like it or are feeling particularly sassy, then lost people will see Jesus. So even if I don't know what deep flavors are in a coffee or if I don't feel like working on a particularly challenging order with a difficult customer, if I live that verse, then the people around me, co-workers and customers included, will see the light of God through me.
And that's not to be taken lightly.
Me: "Uh... coffee."
Just to let you know, that is the wrong answer. I'm supposed to say something like, "Well, it tastes earthy with a hint of spices as it hits the back of my tongue, noting it's origin in the Asia/Pacific region." Maybe we'll get there.
Customers always prove to be an interesting experience as well. Yesterday I worked on the register the entire shift, which included translating orders ("Yes, I'd like a triple decaf iced grande soy 2 pumps sugar free vanilla latte with whip") into two letter abbreviations on cups and trying to ring it up in a decent amount of time. This one customer, a 5'6", 300 pound Samoan man in a purple shirt approached the counter and wanted a grande (that's a medium for us who speak English and not Starbucks) coffee. Easy beans. Check.
Awkward pause.
"Could I get another one?"
"Sure! You're total is $3.28"
He handed me the money and stared at me strangley. I handed him the change and gave him a polite smile. "Thank you", I said, which was nice for, "Okay, we're done."
"You have nice ice", he said.
Excuse me, what? I have nice ICE?? What is that supposed to mean?! Since I lack tact, that was pretty much the reaction I gave him.
"What?"
"You have nice eyes."
Oh. Heaven. Help. Me.
Once again, since I lack tact, I have absolutely no idea what to say to that besides, "Wow, I can't wait to tell Steven this," or "Uh, thanks, that's, uh, a nice large purple shirt?"
Heaven, in fact, did help me, so I said a quick "Thanks" and went somewhere other then in his line of sight. And on a side note, when I told Steven this, he told me to essentially "milk that for all it was worth- you could get good tips from that." Gee, thanks for the moral support, honey.
Before we get deep, let me call a half-time with this, since I'm SUPER excited for the start of football season:
On a different note, my co-workers are... you're typical 20-somethings. In short, their world is Starbucks, and outside of it, there are some other things that may or may not be as important, depending on what's happening with Starbucks that day. They are all friends, roommates, lover, or drinking buddies because of work. Most of them don't seem super-ambitious to find any other job, which I find strange. Their attitudes are generally poor and their language reflects it. Like in college, I feel like I'm about a million miles away from my peers. When they find out I'm 22 and married, their responses are as follows: "You're 22?! You look like you're 18! You're so young to be married! Do you have a kid?"
And, as in college, I find it very hard to explain myself to people who aren't even reading the same book I am, much less on the same page. Then, it was difficult to try and discuss: "No, I'm not career driven; Yes, I want to marry my boyfriend right after college; No, I've never had sex; Yes, I'm "religious" therefore I don't do drugs or drink to get drunk" to people whose main concern is how many weeknights they can get trashed and still graduate with a 3.0. Now, it's hard to explain: "Yes, I'm married young and get true joy out of serving my husband; No, I don't have a kid; No, I can't work Sunday mornings because I go to church; Yes, there is more to life then Starbucks and work in general."
Honestly, it's kind of heartbreaking. Once, I was getting lunch with Sarah Jones, and she was telling me that her first term in Berlin was character-building. And she said something that I'll never forget: "The thing that keeps me going is knowing that lost people matter to Jesus. And that makes me excited to go back for the second term."
Two things have been impressed upon my heart lately: 1) Lost people matter to Jesus, and 2) Colossians 3:23-24: "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you now that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." And I truly believe that if I live out that verse every single day, even if I don't feel like it or are feeling particularly sassy, then lost people will see Jesus. So even if I don't know what deep flavors are in a coffee or if I don't feel like working on a particularly challenging order with a difficult customer, if I live that verse, then the people around me, co-workers and customers included, will see the light of God through me.
And that's not to be taken lightly.
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