One sleep. That's all I have left in this home. After a week of bittersweet memories, mile-high anxiety and finishing up packing, I've had lots of time to analyze my emotions. And I've come to the realization that in order to enjoy the relationship I'll have with my new home, I'm going to have to break up with the old one.
It's like when you are dating someone, and you have a really good time for a while, but then things change and you realize you should end it. But you don't. Because you are more afraid of the unknown than of being unhappy. That is what my relationship with this home has been for the past few years.
So . . . to my home: Thank you. You have sheltered me, provided warmth and comfort, and given me a safe space to live and grow. However, you've been a pain in the ass in the last year, so we are done. I'm taking my stuff and moving to greener pastures. I'm terrified of the unknown, but I know it will be healthier for me than staying with you would be. I wish you the best in your future relationship, just stop being such an asshole and maybe she'll stay.
This chapter is concluded . . . but I have lots of pen and ink for the next one.
Interrupting this blog silence to inform my 2 followers that posting will continue with regularity after July 1st.
This move is killing me. Emotionally and physically.
6 days . . .
When I arrived at Sbux for my 5am shift, I was ready to have a great! day! I was ready to be confident! And efficient! And friendly-without-being-creepy!
Too bad I wasn't scheduled to work today. Oops. My bad. I thought tomorrow was my day off . . . turns out, it was today. Well, I made myself a skinny-caramel-latte-extra-hot-with-3-sweet-n-lows (which was delicious, if I do say so myself) and headed home. But not before I hit a cement girder while backing out of my parking space. Seriously. I can't even blame bad luck for this. It was sheer stupidity on my part.
By the time I got home, it was getting light out, and when I inspected the damage (to the front left bumper & quarter-panel) it was definitely noticeable. Some scraped paint, the metal bent just a bit - DANG IT. Bad enough I knew I'd need to get it fixed, but not bad enough to make me panic. I figured it wouldn't be more than $500, so I'd pay out of pocket rather than submit another insurance claim. I spent the next 2 hours googling auto-body repair places, and at 8am set off to get an estimate.
It was more than $500. I must have been living in Delusionville, because the estimate was $1500. Now I was officially in panic mode. I raced across town (not really - I drove like an old lady lest I do something dumb like, oh - total another car) to my insurance agent's office. He immediately put things in perspective by reminding me that at least I hadn't run over a person. Or a donkey. (Not kidding, that was a part of the conversation.
I was very close to having a psychotic event, so I stopped at the grocery so I could pick up medicine - AKA Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies. I may or may not have eaten most of them in 1 sitting. Don't judge. It was MEDICINE.
. . . Deep Breaths . . .
I'm kind of proud of myself. Not for injuring another car, but for keeping it together when I could have so easily fallen apart. I guess those months of therapy paid off.
OK, so, the woman buying my house is named S. She is probably mid-60's, a bit frail, but very nice. Her friend and caretaker, also named S. (Let's call her S2) lives down the road from me. Last week, S2 stopped by the house to tell me something - I honestly don't even remember what it was - and when I didn't answer the door right away, she called my name through the window. It just so happened I was taking a nap after work, but, whatever. It was odd.
Today, I was in the back putting in laundry when I think I hear someone calling my name. I move to the front of the house and there stands S2, in my kitchen. What. The. Fuck??? Who does that? Who walks into someone's house that they've only met 2 times??? As I'm hustling S2 back out the front door (because, WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?) she's telling me S's daughter brought some stuff by to put in the shed (I had told S that was fine to do) and wondered if they could take a peek at the house. Uhm. No. No you may not. Because 1. It's still my house and I get to decide who comes in. 2. If I had some advanced notice I would have cleared some packing boxes, put away my unmentionables that are drying in the shower and put away the dishes that are in the drying rack. and 3. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY KITCHEN???
Yes. I was a bitch. I should have been kind and gracious but I was honestly freaked out that this woman just walked into my house. If I had been napping, would she have explored the house until she found me in bed? Would she have raided my cupboards and made a cup of tea while waiting for me to wake up? It's just so preposterous.
I guess the lesson is that I'm going to have to keep my front door locked and bolted for the next 28 days to avoid S2 just making herself at home.
Today was the first day I felt like I could actually make this Sbux gig work. I didn't feel like a complete idiot, so that's an improvement.
Today, after setting up the pastry case, I was assigned "front support." This meant I was responsible for taking orders for all the café customers, and providing "support" for drive through orders. Here's where it gets tricky . . . We all wear headsets, which allow us to hear drive through orders and also allow us to talk privately with each other. If I'm across the store and a customer has a question I don't know the answer for, I can talk into my headset and any other partner can provide the answer for me. It's kind of like being telepathic. Or crazy. Because sometimes I'm laughing at something a partner said in my headset, and the customer in front of me has no idea what's going on.
We all hear the drive through orders, which can make life confusing when I'm trying to listen to the customer standing in front of me. I have to tune out the headset to fulfill the "live" customer's order. When I'm done with that, I need to remember to start listening again. This is the hardest part for me!! The other part of front support is to grab items from the pastry case (and heat them up, if needed) for drive through orders. If I'm not taking a café order or grabbing a food item, I'm checking the hot & cold bars to see if there are any pitchers or blenders I can rinse. But I still need to be paying attention to drive through orders. I can't stress how difficult this learning curve of multi-tasking listening and action is for me. I think it's because I still have to think through each step of each routine as I do it - it hasn't become second nature yet.
But today . . . today I did OK. For the first time I felt like I was an asset rather than a liability to the team. And that feels really, really good. Now, let's see if I can do the same thing tomorrow . . .
It's not surprising that the Sbux store I work at has little diversity - after all, this is Wisconsin, and unless you are in Milwaukee, you're not going to find much racial diversity. We are a bunch of white people, pullin' shots and takin' names.
To be more specific, the employees are mostly 18 - 25 year old white kids. Most of them have been walking upright for only about 20 years. I've been walking upright for nearly 50. They have ankles and knees that easily bend, and don't have to consider the fact that if they get down on their knees to clean out a fridge, they might not be able to get up.
Today, I came very close to quitting. It is hitting me that I cannot hope to keep up with these young whippersnappers. Just using the word "whippersnappers" ages me another 10 years. Maybe it's because I'm not confident, maybe it's because I make dumb mistakes (like brewing decaf into the Pike coffee cube), maybe it's because every time I turn around I have to ask a 19 year old how to do something - but I started wondering if I could really do this.
So, I did what adults do, and spoke with my manager. I need to preface this by saying my manager, L. is AMAZING. She is somehow hyper-aware of what every person is doing and what they should be doing. She jumps in and works the bar (espresso bar, that is) or cold bar or support - whatever - she doesn't just delegate (though she is good at that as well) but she is ankle deep in the crush of rush, just like all of us regular baristas. So, I sat down with her and told her I thought this might be a young persons job. She reassured me that I was doing well, and I told her I didn't want to be the slow, old lady that everyone else had to compensate for. Her reaction floored me.
She likes that I'm not the norm. She thinks it is good to have someone far outside the 18-25 check-box. She told me I added some diversity to the store's cast of characters. And that stunned me, because my first thought was "I'm just another white girl, working at Sbux, what's the big deal? Then I realized it wasn't my race, but my age that was the added diversity.
And in the flash of a moment I felt 100 instead of 48. Maybe it's because I work with college students, but I have always processed and sent messages from the mindset of someone who is "young." When did I become old? Seriously. I don't know when it happened. Did it creep up on me like the silver hair that has been replacing the ebony strands with more and more frequency? Or is this the exact moment I become old? When I can clearly see the distinct and vast difference between me and a group of 20 year olds? No, it's not about me - it's realizing how others see me. I'm not going to be mistaken for a 20 or 30 year old barista. I'm going to be viewed as older. My co-workers won't see me as a peer. They won't consider me as a friend. They may even be wary of my intent . . . because I am so different.
I didn't quit today. After my shift, I came home to shower and soak my feet in cold water. The increase in circulation makes me feel younger, yet the need for a nap makes me feel older. I guess that means I am just right.
I will either cry or quit. And by cry, I'm not sure if I mean literal or figurative crying. My Starbucks training officially ended, but the only thing I am 100% positive of knowing is how to make my favorite drink. Everything else is a crapshoot. I would recommend you go to the Clairemont location tomorrow if you need a Starbucks fix, because I will be screwing up all the things at the Hastings location.
Here are some fun things I've learned in the past week . . .
1. The learning curve gets worse before it gets better. Right now, I'm at the point where I've tried to cram so much stuff into my brain that it is all jumbled and difficult to recall. When someone orders, it's like trying to find 2 pieces that fit in a 1000 piece puzzle.
2. Epsom Salt foot baths after work are mandatory. My knees and back are doing pretty good . . . but have a lot of pain in my feet. Especially my left foot and ankle. Once I get moving I'm fine, but once I sit down it stiffens up. Here's to hoping I get used to standing on my feet soon!
3. THERE IS NO SECRET STARBUCKS MENU! No matter what Buzzfeed or the interwebs wants you to believe, there really isn't a secret menu. And yes, there are people who come and want to order something from the "secret menu" - I've already learned to control rolling my eyes at them. If you have the recipe, we'll make it - but otherwise, no. Just no.
4. I am the old lady at the store. Literally.
5. Tomorrow I work at 4:30am (we open at 5), so I ate dinner at 5pm and am going to bed by 7:30. See? Old. Lady.
And since I only have 30 minutes until bedtime, I'd best review my recipe notes (FROM the actual menu - BECAUSE THERE IS NO SECRET MENU!)
