i think i have posted this before but it is worth posting it again.
I make me cry for our government and the future of this country, no honor, no truth, and no balls; only corruption.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Story #1-Dave
The alarm went off and the Dave rolled over and smacked the snooze button as hard as he could for only getting a few hours sleep. It read "4:45am". Nine minutes later the alarm went off again with a screeching sound that made Dave curse the man who invented the snooze button, and wonder “Why nine minutes, round up for Christ sake, probably a women’s idea; out to get men. Why are women so evil but so mesmerizing at the same time." But this thought process had to wait.
"Fuck" Dave thought "This is ridiculous. How much am I getting paid to get up this fuck’n early?"
He rolled out of bed and turned the alarm clock off and stumbled in the bathroom to relieve this bladder, brush his teeth, and wash his face. Last night, or should we say his early this mornings, drinking festivities had left his stomach queasy, his breath rancid, and his eyes still a little blood shot from the bong hits. With some deodorant, a clean pair of socks and boxers, Dave picked out a slightly recycled pair of khaki shorts and polo shirt and headed out of the house at 5:14 am, got to 1995 Saturn 4-door something or other, got in and found his pack of cigarrettes.
"Shit, only 3 left" he thought to himself as he lit up a cigarette, put the car in reverse, and pulled out of the parking lot.
After passing though a few blinking yellow lights in suburban hell, um... I mean Washington DC, he made a left turn into the shopping center coined "The Square" arriving around 5:26am. He groggily stumbles to the front door of the coffee store only to hear a cheery, "Good Morning" in a sing songy tone. He looked to his left to see Sally, seated at the outdoor table in front of the coffee shop, he did not even notice her when he walked up.
Sally is 19 year old, less then 5 feet tall, and a pain in Dave's ass. She looked bright eyed and bushy-tailed, it is enough to make Dave sick this early in the morning. With a head nod and a "Yeah" he unlocked the door to the coffee store and quickly made a B line to the security code box near the back and turned off the alarm; while Sally locked the door behind her.
Dave made his way to the back office, past the 3 drop sinks on his right and dozens of bags of 5 lb silver "bullets" of coffee beans on this left. Taking a seat at the make shift desk next to the safe he placed his head on the desk, and with a heavy sigh, he thought "Shit, I totally forgot I have to put up with Sally’s this morning" He glanced at the schedule posted on the bulletin board above the desk and looked to see that she, just like him, was working from 5:30am till 2:30pm on this particular Thursday. "Fuck" he thought "She annoys the piss out of me." As he punched in the code for the time locked safe, he heard Sally whistling the tune to some morning cheery song as she unloaded the bins of freshly delivered pastries into the pasty case built into the counter.
After letting the time lock safe count through it’s normal 8 minute waiting period, Dave opened the safe and pull out the “bank” of money for the shop. Counting up the change bank to $250, then counting two cash drawers, one for him and one for Sally. He put the “bank” back in the safe and closed the door, carried the two drawers to the front register and drops them both into the register drawer and closes them making sure they are closed, he moves his way to the espresso bar. Glancing over at Sally she is finishing up putting the pastries in the pastry case.
The espresso bar, the one place Dave truly felt at home, the bar always looked so peaceful this early it he morning. Everything freshly cleaned from the night before, all the stainless steel shiny and new looking, no mess, no customers hovering around waiting for their half caf 2 pump skim mocha; it was just Dave and his machine. He stood there and looked, surrounded on 3 sides of espresso making bliss. On his left was the espresso grinders, two of them one for the decaf (and who really orders that shit anyway) and one for the good stuff, high test, full strength regular caffeinated espresso. In the middle facing out to the customers was the La Marzocco 4 portofilter Espresso machine, an Italian handmade top of the line espresso machine which retail cost is about that of a mid size luxury car. The two milk steam wands balanced on each end of the machine sat calmly waiting for their first calling of the day. This machine was an expensive piece of equipment but the sweet nectar that came out of this when all things were aligned correctly was…magnificent to say the least. To Dave’s right was a large empty space clean area that would soon be filled with pitcher of steamed, foamy milk.
Dave was one of the first employees of this coffee shop in the “The Square.” He was 18, just graduated high school, and while going to community college got a new job that sounded laid back and casual at a coffee shop. He had never heard of the Company before but it was a coffee shop, so he envisioned beat-niks with drums and cigarettes hanging out late into the night waxing intellectual with each other; boy was he wrong. He was hired while the shop was still under construction, and spent a 3 days training at the home office in down town Washington DC to learn all the skills and rules necessary to make it as a Barista in the Company. They he spent the next 2 weeks training at various stores in the DC Metro region to get the hang of the pace of the business. He then worked the very first day, the very first shift that “The Square” store had, 5:30am. That was three years ago, he has been trying to go away to school every since and thinks he is almost on his way. It is March and the winter winds are not down with their torment, and Dave is planning on visiting a local college next week with the hopes of starting in the fall semester.
In his 3 years with the Company he has had 2 District Managers, 5 Store Manager, 3 Assistant Manager, and dozens of staff. Currently, Big Mike is the store manager, he is okay, a little crazy and always excited; the staff all call him a walking orgasm (he is always exploding with excitement). Andy the current District Manager is cool, he is a happy go lucky outwardly gay man from Dupont Circle in DC. The store currently does not have a Assistant Manager so basically Dave and Chris run those duties. Dave and Chris are the shift supervisors; a nice name for gets paid less then a manager but does the same work.
Dave stood at his bar looking at the shiny stainless steel; took a long slow breathe; and began to set up the bar of business, after all the shop opened in 15 minutes. He pulled out the espresso beans from under the cabinet and poured them into the hopper ontop the grinder and turned it on, did the same for the decaf espresso grinder. Then he turned his attention to the pulling out all the milk pitchers with their thermometers and filling them up with milk from the fridge under the counter; two pitcher whole milk, two pitchers skim milk, and one small on for soy milk and the always obnoxious breve’. Finally it was time to start brewing some espresso, he grabbed one the porto-filters from the on top of the machine and put it under the dispenser for the espresso grinder and pulled the handle twice. Perfectly roasted, finely ground, and perfectly measured espresso beans filled the basket of the porto-filter. He pulled the porto-filter out and placed it on the counter top, and with a quick motion, grabbed the tamper and pressed the espresso down into the basket very gently. This was followed, without thought because he had down this movement thousands of times, to the espresso machine where he placed the porto-filter up inside the grooves and twisted it into place. His hand continued on their predetermined path to the grab two shot glasses and place them under the 2 spouts of the porto-filter; while one finger whet to the timer to set it so it would count how long the espresso took to be extracted; another finger when to the button on the machine to force the water through the espresso. Both figures press their respective button simultaneously. The espresso machine came alive and two small streams of light brown mixed with black liquid began to come out of the porto-filter spouts. Dave watched the liquid form in the shot glasses, a dark black rich color forms on the bottom while a light brown creamy top is settled as the machine comes to finishing it’s task. Dave looks at the timer as the light clicks off the machine signaling it is finished, 21 seconds.
“Damn I’m good at this” he exclaims.
The perfect shot of Espresso is something the Company prides itself on. They spent hours training their staff, days re-training their staff, weeks traveling to Italy to the worlds best espresso makers, and months perfecting it. A perfect shot of espresso is actually not a shot at all, it is really 1.5 oz. The perfect Espresso will have intense flavor but should be sweet so the flavor is not over powering and most definately not have a burned flavor. Espresso is made by forcing hot water at 9 to 10 bars of pressure through very finely ground coffee beans. It will have three parts; the body, the heart, and crema. The crema being the most important; the oils in the espresso grounds form small rusty brown colored bubbles which get forced out f the porto-filter and settle on top of the shot of espresso. This crema provides the shot with a suburb rich flavor and aroma. The perfect drawn shot of espresso will take between 18 and 23 seconds to pull through the grounds. If the timing is wrong then normally the grind is to fine or too course but either way you have to throw it out and start again.
Dave took his two perfectly drawn shots of espresso and poured them into a small demi tasse espresso cup, leaned against the counter and sipped his three ounces of early morning pleasure.
With the espresso cooling only after a few minutes, he kicked back the last of the drink in on big gulp; and strode out the door and lit up a cigarette. It was almost 6am, the customers would be coming soon; and some of them were already here. Dave pulled on his Camel non-filter and watched as three cars pulled into the virtually empty parking lot of the strip mall. As the three customers got out of their car, one made a direct line to the front door, and never made any eye contact with Dave. This was who the staff refered to as Early Morning Guy. Early Morning Guy had no name, always ordered a triple grande latte, paid with cash and left immediately with no hesitation or doctoring his drink. This seemed odd, because he would also not speak to anyone, and that means all people. He would only say his drink order and never engage in any chit-chat or “How’s are you today sir?” All the staff tried, Dave would put new staff on him like dogs to hound him for a response but nothing; nothing ever. His drink was always prepared when his car pulled into the parking lot at 6am, and staff just waved and smiled to him every morning. Early Morning Guy had been coming in for about 2 1/2 years and Dave still knew nothing about him expect that he drove a blue mid 90’s BMW, and he wore classy suits.
As for the other two cars that pulled up on Dave’s first of many smokes of the day, they are a married couple that got out of their cars walked over to each other and kissed. They both drove matching Chrysler Sebring’s, one blue, and one red. Dave always thought it was a little cheesy, matching cars, but they were a cute couple in their 30’s, well off, both seemed to have high paying jobs, but they worked at different places in DC and could not carpool. They ordered similar drinks also; he ordered a Grande Latte, while she ordered a Grande Skim Latte. Dave always assumed she was watching her figure. But 6am is a bit early for the love birds to pull in, so with a quick drag and flick of his cigarette Dave opened the door to let them in and conveniently at the same time, hold the door for Early Morning Guy who was on his way out.
"Fuck" Dave thought "This is ridiculous. How much am I getting paid to get up this fuck’n early?"
He rolled out of bed and turned the alarm clock off and stumbled in the bathroom to relieve this bladder, brush his teeth, and wash his face. Last night, or should we say his early this mornings, drinking festivities had left his stomach queasy, his breath rancid, and his eyes still a little blood shot from the bong hits. With some deodorant, a clean pair of socks and boxers, Dave picked out a slightly recycled pair of khaki shorts and polo shirt and headed out of the house at 5:14 am, got to 1995 Saturn 4-door something or other, got in and found his pack of cigarrettes.
"Shit, only 3 left" he thought to himself as he lit up a cigarette, put the car in reverse, and pulled out of the parking lot.
After passing though a few blinking yellow lights in suburban hell, um... I mean Washington DC, he made a left turn into the shopping center coined "The Square" arriving around 5:26am. He groggily stumbles to the front door of the coffee store only to hear a cheery, "Good Morning" in a sing songy tone. He looked to his left to see Sally, seated at the outdoor table in front of the coffee shop, he did not even notice her when he walked up.
Sally is 19 year old, less then 5 feet tall, and a pain in Dave's ass. She looked bright eyed and bushy-tailed, it is enough to make Dave sick this early in the morning. With a head nod and a "Yeah" he unlocked the door to the coffee store and quickly made a B line to the security code box near the back and turned off the alarm; while Sally locked the door behind her.
Dave made his way to the back office, past the 3 drop sinks on his right and dozens of bags of 5 lb silver "bullets" of coffee beans on this left. Taking a seat at the make shift desk next to the safe he placed his head on the desk, and with a heavy sigh, he thought "Shit, I totally forgot I have to put up with Sally’s this morning" He glanced at the schedule posted on the bulletin board above the desk and looked to see that she, just like him, was working from 5:30am till 2:30pm on this particular Thursday. "Fuck" he thought "She annoys the piss out of me." As he punched in the code for the time locked safe, he heard Sally whistling the tune to some morning cheery song as she unloaded the bins of freshly delivered pastries into the pasty case built into the counter.
After letting the time lock safe count through it’s normal 8 minute waiting period, Dave opened the safe and pull out the “bank” of money for the shop. Counting up the change bank to $250, then counting two cash drawers, one for him and one for Sally. He put the “bank” back in the safe and closed the door, carried the two drawers to the front register and drops them both into the register drawer and closes them making sure they are closed, he moves his way to the espresso bar. Glancing over at Sally she is finishing up putting the pastries in the pastry case.
The espresso bar, the one place Dave truly felt at home, the bar always looked so peaceful this early it he morning. Everything freshly cleaned from the night before, all the stainless steel shiny and new looking, no mess, no customers hovering around waiting for their half caf 2 pump skim mocha; it was just Dave and his machine. He stood there and looked, surrounded on 3 sides of espresso making bliss. On his left was the espresso grinders, two of them one for the decaf (and who really orders that shit anyway) and one for the good stuff, high test, full strength regular caffeinated espresso. In the middle facing out to the customers was the La Marzocco 4 portofilter Espresso machine, an Italian handmade top of the line espresso machine which retail cost is about that of a mid size luxury car. The two milk steam wands balanced on each end of the machine sat calmly waiting for their first calling of the day. This machine was an expensive piece of equipment but the sweet nectar that came out of this when all things were aligned correctly was…magnificent to say the least. To Dave’s right was a large empty space clean area that would soon be filled with pitcher of steamed, foamy milk.
Dave was one of the first employees of this coffee shop in the “The Square.” He was 18, just graduated high school, and while going to community college got a new job that sounded laid back and casual at a coffee shop. He had never heard of the Company before but it was a coffee shop, so he envisioned beat-niks with drums and cigarettes hanging out late into the night waxing intellectual with each other; boy was he wrong. He was hired while the shop was still under construction, and spent a 3 days training at the home office in down town Washington DC to learn all the skills and rules necessary to make it as a Barista in the Company. They he spent the next 2 weeks training at various stores in the DC Metro region to get the hang of the pace of the business. He then worked the very first day, the very first shift that “The Square” store had, 5:30am. That was three years ago, he has been trying to go away to school every since and thinks he is almost on his way. It is March and the winter winds are not down with their torment, and Dave is planning on visiting a local college next week with the hopes of starting in the fall semester.
In his 3 years with the Company he has had 2 District Managers, 5 Store Manager, 3 Assistant Manager, and dozens of staff. Currently, Big Mike is the store manager, he is okay, a little crazy and always excited; the staff all call him a walking orgasm (he is always exploding with excitement). Andy the current District Manager is cool, he is a happy go lucky outwardly gay man from Dupont Circle in DC. The store currently does not have a Assistant Manager so basically Dave and Chris run those duties. Dave and Chris are the shift supervisors; a nice name for gets paid less then a manager but does the same work.
Dave stood at his bar looking at the shiny stainless steel; took a long slow breathe; and began to set up the bar of business, after all the shop opened in 15 minutes. He pulled out the espresso beans from under the cabinet and poured them into the hopper ontop the grinder and turned it on, did the same for the decaf espresso grinder. Then he turned his attention to the pulling out all the milk pitchers with their thermometers and filling them up with milk from the fridge under the counter; two pitcher whole milk, two pitchers skim milk, and one small on for soy milk and the always obnoxious breve’. Finally it was time to start brewing some espresso, he grabbed one the porto-filters from the on top of the machine and put it under the dispenser for the espresso grinder and pulled the handle twice. Perfectly roasted, finely ground, and perfectly measured espresso beans filled the basket of the porto-filter. He pulled the porto-filter out and placed it on the counter top, and with a quick motion, grabbed the tamper and pressed the espresso down into the basket very gently. This was followed, without thought because he had down this movement thousands of times, to the espresso machine where he placed the porto-filter up inside the grooves and twisted it into place. His hand continued on their predetermined path to the grab two shot glasses and place them under the 2 spouts of the porto-filter; while one finger whet to the timer to set it so it would count how long the espresso took to be extracted; another finger when to the button on the machine to force the water through the espresso. Both figures press their respective button simultaneously. The espresso machine came alive and two small streams of light brown mixed with black liquid began to come out of the porto-filter spouts. Dave watched the liquid form in the shot glasses, a dark black rich color forms on the bottom while a light brown creamy top is settled as the machine comes to finishing it’s task. Dave looks at the timer as the light clicks off the machine signaling it is finished, 21 seconds.
“Damn I’m good at this” he exclaims.
The perfect shot of Espresso is something the Company prides itself on. They spent hours training their staff, days re-training their staff, weeks traveling to Italy to the worlds best espresso makers, and months perfecting it. A perfect shot of espresso is actually not a shot at all, it is really 1.5 oz. The perfect Espresso will have intense flavor but should be sweet so the flavor is not over powering and most definately not have a burned flavor. Espresso is made by forcing hot water at 9 to 10 bars of pressure through very finely ground coffee beans. It will have three parts; the body, the heart, and crema. The crema being the most important; the oils in the espresso grounds form small rusty brown colored bubbles which get forced out f the porto-filter and settle on top of the shot of espresso. This crema provides the shot with a suburb rich flavor and aroma. The perfect drawn shot of espresso will take between 18 and 23 seconds to pull through the grounds. If the timing is wrong then normally the grind is to fine or too course but either way you have to throw it out and start again.
Dave took his two perfectly drawn shots of espresso and poured them into a small demi tasse espresso cup, leaned against the counter and sipped his three ounces of early morning pleasure.
With the espresso cooling only after a few minutes, he kicked back the last of the drink in on big gulp; and strode out the door and lit up a cigarette. It was almost 6am, the customers would be coming soon; and some of them were already here. Dave pulled on his Camel non-filter and watched as three cars pulled into the virtually empty parking lot of the strip mall. As the three customers got out of their car, one made a direct line to the front door, and never made any eye contact with Dave. This was who the staff refered to as Early Morning Guy. Early Morning Guy had no name, always ordered a triple grande latte, paid with cash and left immediately with no hesitation or doctoring his drink. This seemed odd, because he would also not speak to anyone, and that means all people. He would only say his drink order and never engage in any chit-chat or “How’s are you today sir?” All the staff tried, Dave would put new staff on him like dogs to hound him for a response but nothing; nothing ever. His drink was always prepared when his car pulled into the parking lot at 6am, and staff just waved and smiled to him every morning. Early Morning Guy had been coming in for about 2 1/2 years and Dave still knew nothing about him expect that he drove a blue mid 90’s BMW, and he wore classy suits.
As for the other two cars that pulled up on Dave’s first of many smokes of the day, they are a married couple that got out of their cars walked over to each other and kissed. They both drove matching Chrysler Sebring’s, one blue, and one red. Dave always thought it was a little cheesy, matching cars, but they were a cute couple in their 30’s, well off, both seemed to have high paying jobs, but they worked at different places in DC and could not carpool. They ordered similar drinks also; he ordered a Grande Latte, while she ordered a Grande Skim Latte. Dave always assumed she was watching her figure. But 6am is a bit early for the love birds to pull in, so with a quick drag and flick of his cigarette Dave opened the door to let them in and conveniently at the same time, hold the door for Early Morning Guy who was on his way out.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Content is on it's way
So i have been slacking so far with the story of my Barista days, but i am writing the story currently.
Content to follow soon, stop back in a week or two.
In the meantime check this out, it was me....Psyche
Peace
and this was me also.
Content to follow soon, stop back in a week or two.
In the meantime check this out, it was me....Psyche
Peace
and this was me also.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Welcome
Welcome to Barista Memoirs.
This is a chapter book about story's from a real Starbucks Coffee shop in a suburb of Washington DC during the 4 years I was employed there.
The names have been changed to protect the guilty and so I don't get sued the coffee shop will not be Starbucks it will be a fictitious place.
Bookmark this blog and tell your friends, a new chapter/short story posted each week.
Thanks for reading.
This is a chapter book about story's from a real Starbucks Coffee shop in a suburb of Washington DC during the 4 years I was employed there.
The names have been changed to protect the guilty and so I don't get sued the coffee shop will not be Starbucks it will be a fictitious place.
Bookmark this blog and tell your friends, a new chapter/short story posted each week.
Thanks for reading.
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