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2001-08-24 / 1:32 p.m. ~You like this shirt? I stole it~ I worked at a coffeehouse a few years ago. No, it wasn't Starbucks, but a fairly major competitor. I wanted to work someplace public during the Olympics, the thinking being that I might meet someone famous, or at the very least hobnob with some athletes. Of course, as it turned out, the visitors didn't leave central downtown and the locals were too afraid of predicted traffic nightmares to leave their homes. Business was mostly slower than normal during the Olympics. Aside from the morning regulars, and a few nighttime regulars, (my shift was at night, but occasionally I was asked to do a morning - I loved working nights!) we stood around a lot. 'If you got time to lean, you got time to clean'. And we cleaned, a lot. But that was one of my favorite jobs, ever. The training was extensive, to say the least. I mean we had a whole book's worth of paper to study, tests, written and Barista (drink producing). I loved it, loved the competition part where we had to make the perfect latte. Or the perfect espresso shot. The fine art of coffee making. It was glorious, and their standards were so high. We even got to wear shorts, or jeans, just had to wear one of the company logo t-shirts, two of which were provided free of charge - white, extra large. They had a cool logo though, and of course we all wanted more variety in our work wardrobes so we bought more, in colors. There was a whole little gift area in the shop, mugs, shirts, hats, stuff for kids, etc. We even got a little discount, a perk. More perks: All the free coffee you could drink. But I only drink a cup a day, in the a.m. when I get up. I have a really low tolerance for caffeine, alcohol, drugs, a real cheap date. So, I took the beans, the free 1/2 pound a week. We were allowed teas too, but I was more into trying the different beans. Excellent stuff. We'd even undergone a "cupping" in training (a coffee tasting, sans sugar, cream, etc., just coffee - I learned SO much there). I still have little mementos from that job - my little collection of lizards in my car came from the pile of toys we gave to the kids with their drinks. And the little finger puppet monsters. The best mementos are the clothes, like the denim shirt I'm wearing right this second, the reason I felt inspired to write of my days at the unnamed coffeehouse. It's always cold in this office, where I sit now writing, and I'm sick of the stupid wool sweater I usually wear. As today is Casual Day I am wearing my "_ Coffee" shirt. Which I stole. Yep. It was a great night, Harry was in charge. Harry was SO much fun! He waxed his eyebrows. He was really tall, like 6'4" maybe, and flamboyantly homosexual, very charismatic, outgoing, very feminine, very sensitive, a fellow Aries, loved music (I'm talking about him like he's dead! I hope he's not!!), dancing, and he would bring in his own CDs on his shift. Others did too, like Scott with his Jimmy Smith CDs, and Erin with her Dave Matthews Band and 311 CDs. This night it was B-52s and Deelite and other dance music. We were rockin', we were dancing while we cleaned, three on duty every night - a Barista, a cashier and drive-thru person, a backup/kitchen/restocker/cleaner/etc. person. We all helped each other. Harry, Rachelle, Me. Fun! I don't know how we even got to that point, but we felt the company owed us a little extra. We looked at the stuff for sale, the clothes, and I said how much I really wanted the one mauve colored t-shirt. Rachelle says, "Take it!". I say, no, I can't, wait, should I? I deserve it, right? "Sure, take it!". Obviously there were no customers around. Should I have prefaced all of this by saying that I am an insanely, sickeningly honest person? That I have a REALLY hard time lying, about anything? Well, that's true, but� I rationalized it, we all did. Not that we disliked the owners, or even our own manager. No, things were good. But we wanted some "stuff". We felt we should have it. "Yeah, I'll take that shirt I want if you'll take something too, k?" So we kinda helped ourselves. Nothing too extravagant�not really. I got myself the shirt I wanted, a cap, and this denim shirt. The denim shirt was high end, relatively expensive, but well, I wanted it, I worked for it. There was no looking back. And I didn't feel bad or guilty. In fact, I rather readily tell the story. Oh, you like this shirt, do you? I stole it when I worked at "_ Coffee". No regrets. That was a fun night. We were all three Aries, Rachelle, Harry and Me. I felt an affinity for us three. We often went across the street for pizza and beer, late at night after our shift, ogled the boys with their tattoos, the ones who worked there. Those boys would occasionally come over for coffee, and we'd trade free coffees for pizza. They'd call in an order, the one had triple mochas all the time, and we'd tell them what kind of pizza we wanted. Then one of them would come deliver it, and I fell in horrible lust with the one with the big tattoo on his calf, asked him out one night when I was feeling bold. He had other plans, so he said. I was crushed. I finally quit, after maybe two or three months, because I cared too much, as always, and I felt my co-workers didn't, and well, it's hard for me to get along with people in close proximity for very long, and we were close. Certain people I just couldn't get along with at all. Plus, I was commuting 25 miles each way, for maybe $7 an hour. I'd just gotten a raise, been promoted to a "lead" status, given the combination to the safe, etc., and for that I felt badly, felt badly for quitting right then. And, I missed the free scones, pastries, occasional veggie sandwiches, bags of coffee beans in my fridge. Maybe I never should've left, but I did, and I felt it was the right choice, at the time. Cost of the War in Iraq
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