A Fuckin Puppy in a Cup!

Belated New Years Resolution

    Alright, it's time to buckle down. I quit my job just before Christmas, retired from the coffee biz to "focus on my writing," whatever that means. Until yesterday it meant sleeping in--because I can, finally getting up around 8 or 8:30, cleaning, doing laundry and getting coffee with my mom. I've been lazy, I'm not gonna lie.
    By the way, if 8:30 doesn't sound like sleeping in it's because you are not or have never been a barista. I opened 6am, five days a week for two whole years. My boyfriend has it even worse--shift starts 4:30am to open the meat department at Whole Foods (which is why I am writing this at 4:02 in the morning). Anyway, he's the only reason I was able to quit my job to take this little writing vacation in the first place.
     I've resolved (twelve days too late... no matter) not to take any more advantage of my time off, and my hard-working meat-cutting persevering boyfriend. I am going to do so by syncing up our "shifts," so if he starts at 4:30am, so do I.
     Usually by now I'd be hitting the weed, trying to force myself back to sleep for a few hours. I get stuck in this awkward limbo between 4 and 5, finally back to sleep by six, for maybe one good solid hour, and then a bunch of broken up semi-sleep until 8ish, and then a groggy fruitless rest of the day. Even worse, every time my head hits the pillow it becomes abuzz with ideas, and things I want to write down or remember for later, but my arms are too lazy, and I'm too cozy to care.
     But I forgot the one thing Americans can always count on when they're caught in that awkward limbo in-between state, half-asleep half-awake: coffee! Perfect! And lucky for me I salvaged a five pound bag of espresso beans on my last day at La Bou that arrived already open and we couldn't use or sell. Thank you, Equator, for your poor packaging.
     Unfortunately, the only grinder I have is this ancient wooden box, I gotta grind the beans by hand, and there's no drawer to catch the grinds, so I put a tiny saucer to catch them instead. About a third of the grounds make it onto said saucer. It's really quite the ordeal, but worth it. I've still gotta get my fix.

     Alright. Coffee is ready, and so am I! Here goes nothing.
     So I've decided, in efforts to become a more efficient useful person, I ought to apply my barista skills to my home life. I mean I already do this to some extent--always collapse the plastic milk containers to save space in the recycling, for instance. Although this is much more fun with a steamer, so when you collapse the milk container a cloud of steam escapes, like a facial.
     But collapsing milk isn't the only skill I perfected in the coffee biz. In fact, my work ethic was better at the bakery in a lot of ways. I was very timely, cranking out lattes in less than a minute, a master multi-tasker, but when it comes to my writing, it's a miracle if I get a single assignment in on time, or at all for that matter. I was blessed with easy teachers, lucky for me. Dakota, I'm missing three quarters of your portfolio... but I bet if you did it, it would have been good. I'll just give you a B. (That may have been slightly oversimplified.)
     I was always an avid procrastinator. Well that's less the case now than it used to be. Getting paid helps, even if it is only ten bucks a pop. New Years Sub-Resolution: Be as timely with your writing as you were with making coffee.
     Last Sub-Resolution: Be as CONFIDENT about your writing as you were about your coffee.
     I must say, if I had one major flaw when it came to making coffee it was my lack of modesty. I was good, and I made sure everyone knew it --I can make coffee better than you! and I can, unless you're some award-winning world-class barista.
     He would hate it if he knew I had him all over my blog, but I'm going to tell you something my boyfriend told me. I was telling Oscar (my love, life coach, inspiration, father of our two kittens...) that the short story contest I entered in September should have a winner soon, but that it probably wasn't me, and he said, "No! You can win. Say it. I want to hear you say it. I want you to talk about your writing like you talk about your coffee. So you can pour a latte better than anyone else? So what. You're a writer. You better brag at least as bad about your writing as you did about your coffee."
     Totally true, what he said, and it applies to you too. Baristas of the world, ask yourself this: Is this really what you want out of life? Is this really all you ever aspired to be? Because don't get me wrong, making coffee is awesome, but it tends to attract the artistic types, who have potential to be so much more--musician, artist, travel journalist... So don't get stuck behind the espresso machine. Don't let a latte leaf be all you have to show for yourself. I mean, unless making coffee is your lifelong dream.
P.S. I found a relic of my boastful-barista-ness. I used to make these lists, just to remind myself everything I still needed to stock/clean/do and tape them up on the hopper. As you can see, the final item on the list is "Be the best barista ever," and as you can see it has indeed been thoroughly crossed off.
     So, as of today, January 12th, 2013, I resolve to be the best creative-writer ever.

Green Twenty-Thirteen

Twenty-Thirteen, Boys and Girls. We made it.
Resolution Number One:

     Be more green. Recycle, compost, all that.  Don't be wasteful.

So here's several surprising uses for used coffee grounds you probably didn't know about:

Cellulite Reducer:

     No lie. Apply a mixture of 1/4 cup RECENTLY-used coffee grounds and 1 tablespoon olive or coconut oil to "problem areas" and saran wrap it up for a bit. This must be done about twice a week, for  an indefinite amount of weeks until it works.  And Ta-da! Enjoy your new life without cellulite. Be the slut you always wanted to be, but couldn't.
     Note, when I say 'recently-used' I don't mean scalding hot. Please use your common sense. I mean still warm, maybe a little bit steamy, but not hot enough to peel your ass off.

Add Coffee Grounds to Your Conditioner:

     Seriously. They're great for your hair. If you mix them in when they're fresh, they'll keep in your conditioner, presumably. Your hair will shine like a diamond in no time. I'm sure if you wanted, you could put them in your shampoo, but they'll come out easier in the conditioner. But careful, don't leave it in too long or it might...

Dye:

     Just kidding, it won't dye your hair. I don't think. But it will dye other things, for instance if you want to antique paper. Also functions as a natural easter egg dye, however, the eggs would presumably come out brown, in which case you might as well buy brown eggs in the first place.

Cleaning:

     Coffee grounds are excellent for cleaning for two reasons: for one thing they're good for scrubbing. Coffee is also mildly acidic. Be careful what you decide to clean using coffee grounds, however... I mean use your common sense. Clean the fridge or countertop, but not the carpet. Like I said, coffee functions as a dye.

Plus It's Great for Your Garden!

     Not only do coffee grounds supply the earth with crucial nutrients, but they also function as a natural bug repellant. Sprinkle on the ground to repel ants, snails and slugs. Coffee grounds are especially useful for growing mushrooms, if that's what you're into.
     If I had my own place, I'd pack up all the pucks and used coffee grounds and either sell them, or give them to the local nursery. That way I look eco-friendly. It would be a win-win, for my place as well as the nursery, and we'd all live happily ever after. I have such good ideas.

Yelp-ocalypse

             The internet is becoming a problem. Take Yelp, for instance: It's a bad review, not a suicide note. Tell me how your sandwich was, not how it made you feel. And then people complain, after insisting on ordering the most revolting item on the menu, going on about how utterly appalled at how dry and overpriced their artichoke heart and caper sandwich was. Of course it was. It's your own fault for ordering the damn thing.

            And who the hell has that kind of time anyway? Get a goddamn diary. Better yet, get a blog. People are over here on Yelp telling us how they were feeling a little down lately cos this and that about their boyfriend, but why are you even explaining yourself? People go on Yelp to figure out where to eat, not to hear about your day. You don't need an excuse to go out and eat. You're a human. You require food.

            Why isn't there a website where you can review your customers? I mean really. We're the ones busting our asses trying to heat up eveyone's morning buns just right. And you yelpers are all, "I said I wanted a bone-dry cappuccino, I'm lactose intolerant..." Well what are you doing ordering a drink made of milk? I hope you get diarrhea. I really do. Honestly, Ma'am, if all you're going to do is bitch, go home and make your own goddamn coffee...

...Using one of the fine coffee makers below!

SUBMIT YOUR OWN STORY BELOW:

Leave a comment with your best if-you-could-yelp-your-customers story below.

Baristas of the World Unite

            Until quite recently, I’ve been barista-ing around, putting off attempting to pursue an actual career, because let’s face it—there aren’t any. Capitalism has run its course—created jobs and opportunity and competition… particularly competition. But employment has become a thing of the past, the competition simply too much. No one told us we’d be up against computers and machines.

              And Asians.

            College is no longer worth it. The more extensive schooling you seek, the further behind you’ll find yourself in the rat race. A good amount of my coworkers have been college graduates – Bachelor’s in marketing and business, nothing to show for it except a sizable student debt. Once upon a time, I used to envision my future self—a diligent, sophisticated, college-going girl. I imagined moseying along a marble hallway of some Hogwarts-esque school, swaddled smartly in a scarf to keep away the bitter cold, along with any possibility of succumbing to the dregs of society—the unemployed and insane; escaped schizophrenics and sex offenders. As a kid I used to fancy myself some sort of savage, who could survive in the wild with relative ease—feasting on forest berries, adopting myself into an obliging pack of wolves. But homelessness isn’t the blissful fairytale I once took it to be, and I now realize I wouldn’t last a second on the streets. So what’s a girl supposed to do? Obviously get a job in the food service industry, America’s favorite fallback.

            I was a bakery clerk—the most efficient one ever, I might add. I’d open coffee mostly, and by the end I was so good I could manage in a single trip to the back, ice bucket propped up between my hip and forearm, one water pitcher precariously in either hand, a handful of spoons clanking away in my back pocket. I’d fill up the hoppers, pull some shots to test the grind, and get myself good and over-caffeinated.

            Completing these tiny tasks was satisfying at first, but became increasingly tedious as the weeks went on, until two years later there I was, still making coffee, filling ice buckets and water pitchers, my hopes and dreams fading into empty silhouettes in the distance... I figured if I have so much apparent potential I had better put it to use. I’ve always wanted to be a writer. Well, I’ve aspired to be many things over the years—supermodel, spy, 1950s flight attendant, astronaut, fashion designer, Russian Olympic gymnast—but the one that stuck and seems most within reach has always been writing.

          So I broke down and did it. Quit my job that is, just before Christmas. I decided to take some time off to pursue my writing, at least for a while, so here I am. Now what to write? Well if Rosie O’Donnell in Harriet the Spy (remember Harriet the Spy?!) has taught me anything at all, it is to write what you know.
          So far I have a blog for everything I don’t know a damn thing about. I wear pyjamas in public on a regular basis, yet I thought it a clever move to begin a fashion blog. For months it consisted of a single post discussing how little I know or care about what you wear.

            But if there’s one thing I know it’s making coffee. Welcome to my barista blog.

Once Upon a Cup of Coffee

Amidst a dense impenetrable mist,

A hillside overgrown with rainforest,

The leaves above a green you’ve never seen,

Around you, rows and rows of coffee beans.

Picked by the folk of a village nearby,

Removed from their cherries and set out to dry,

Sorted and shipped off a half world away,

Magic beans are delivered to every café.

They are roasted and packed and eventually ground,

They sell at the counter for fifteen a pound.

I, the barista, the very last act,

Make certain each shot is exquisitely packed

With the subtle precision the coffee demands

Of my weathering callused espresso-stained hands.

“Marina, cappuccino extra hot,

I hope that coffee hits the spot.”