15 Things You Do That Make Your Barista Angry.

My writing has been a bit heavy lately and I apologize.
For the sake of changing pace a bit, I have compiled a list of 15 things you do that REALLY piss off your local coffee girl (or guy!)

1.  Do not order a regular coffee in New England and then flip your lid (like that pun?) when it comes to you with cream and sugar.  In New England a “regular” coffee is one with cream and sugar. This is also akin to a black coffee being black. Empty. With nothing in it.  So do not go postal when I do not put sugar in your cup.

2. Do not make a comment about how I must have slept in the parking lot to be at work this early.  It’s not fucking witty, you’re not the first brain surgeon to make that comment and frankly it reminds me of how often I have to be at work.

3. Do no complain to me about how early it is because chances are I woke up WAY earlier than you.

4. Do not tell me that our prices are too high.  I serve your coffee. I have no control over the economy or how my boss chooses to respond to it, and neither do you for that matter, so either pay for your order or leave.

5. Do not try to talk to me while I’m taking an order on the headset while I’m simultaneously trying to make six coffees. I can only do so many things at once. Your interrupting me is rude and throws me off my work groove.

6. Do not change your order fifteen times and then get mad when I mess up one of your twelve coffees.

7. Do not make me drag every detail of your coffee order from the depths of your soul and out your mouth.
“I’ll have a coffee” “Well thanks for clearing that up. I thought for a moment you came here for a fucking martini.”
It’s coffee, not rocket science people!
A related irritation are people who ask for a verbal list of every item in the store. If you have no idea what you want, come in and look around! I swear we do not bite.

8. Do Not order a small coffee and when I bring you a small hot coffee squeal and say, “Iced! I wanted iced coffee!”
My response will be, “Well, EXCUSE ME, I’m sorry my crystal ball must have been fogged up. Let me channel my psychic powers a bit better in order to read your fucking mind more clearly. My. Bad.”

9. Do not be an ass about your change.  If I go to give you your change back, please don’t just yank your hand away like I’m about to drop hot water into it. The money goes everywhere and then I look like an idiot.
Also, do not say, “Oh god! I don’t want that!” when I offer you ten cents back. It makes me feel like a piece of shit that you are throwing your unwanted money at me instead of actually tipping me for doing a good job.

10. Please tip me when I put together a bakery platter for you. I just took the time to make your drinks and then cut up a bunch of pastries and arrange them nicely on a platter for the party YOU forgot about. You should probably tip me because I just did a catering project for minimum wage.

11. Do not order into my face before saying hello.  I just smiled at you, greeted you, and asked how you were doing, and you cannot even muster up a smile to acknowledge me before you start rattling off your order at me? Not that I care about your life, but it’s common courtesy.

12. Do not eat your food while I’m still ringing you out. Would you drop your trousers at Victoria’s Secret after buying new underpants? No. So why force me to watch you orally violate your food and dodge spewed crumbs while you ask for the total?

13.  Do not order while talking on your cellphone. It is so rude and says to me that I’m not worth your time, which in return says to me you actually want decaf.

14. Do not order 100 items through the drive-thru. It holds everyone up and stresses me out. It’s a drive-thru. It’s quick and easy. It is not your personal delivery service where you can feel free to order 25 coffees at your whim and let the four people behind you sit and wait. Just get out of the car. I will even help you carry your order outside.

15. Do not yell at me.  I wake up at 4am and deal with the public all day in a very fast paced environment. If I mess up your coffee I swear it was probably not intentional and your yelling at me will not make me go faster.


That Silver Lining

Summer with my friends means lighting the nights on fire.

We have a fire pit and once the drinks have been served, we like to scavenge the area around my apartment for anything flammable (hopefully non toxic) and light it up.
And I mean anything. A few weeks ago things escalated to the point of ripping spindles off my deck to burn…But it’s cool because we thoughtfully ripped out every other one so no one would notice….

There is something about summer nights around a fire pit that make you feel solid and content; especially when you start to get high off of the lighter fluid your best friend just threw into the flames. 
The last fire my friends and I had, we went through The Jar of Negative Energy.
The Jar of Negative Energy (JNE) was an idea that my best friend Kate and I concocted after emptying a bottle of Skull Vodka into our stomachs…
Life had been a bit brutal the previous weeks; my little brother had just gone off to boot-camp, I had come to Katherine’s apartment one day to find the boy I was seeing in his bedroom with another girl, I was one-night-stand-ed. . . etc.
In short, I was very fucking miserable. 
Kate was also going through her own issues in life, and we began to realize that these problems were starting become a fixture of our lives.

Every time I’m drunk I can be quoted saying, “It’s a damn shame you can’t shower your soul”.
We decided to do a soul cleanse and the JNE was the closest thing to showering our eternal spirit we could find.
Every time something made us mad, ruined our day, rained on our parade; we would write it on a slip of paper and put it into the JNE which was an empty Skull Vodka bottle.
The bottle choice is significant in many ways, but I’ll spare you all the symbolism…

Finally, when the jar had reached its capacity, my friends and I gathered around the fire pit and we read each piece of paper out loud and then tossed it into the flames thus releasing the negative energy from our lives. 
Once the jar was empty I felt a sense of closure for several stupid things I had been focused on, but I also realized how much negativity was in my life.

I stress about stupid things I cannot change, I let inconsiderate people ruin my day, I let certain people take advantage of me and then fixate on how miserable I am, and I allow myself to be angry far to often.

The JNE was a good way to release my petty irritations, but I saw that I never celebrated all the good things in my life.  
Kate had the brilliant idea of adding a Jar of Positive Energy (JPE), so that for all the bad energy we release from our lives we can celebrate the good energy. 
Her suggestion also made me aware that for every bad event in my life, if I look hard enough, something good (albeit very small at times), has come from it.
My brother going to boot-camp helped me reconnect with my entire family, being used for eight months helped me reevaluate my self esteem and being used for one night forced me to be conscious of how I treat others.
Ancient philosophers and physicists figured it out years ago; for every push in the universe to the left, there’s an equal push to the right.

Why unhappy things occur or why lessons have to be learned the hard way, I am not sure you ever know; but I promise rarely do things in life happen in vain.

The best natural fertilizer is shit; therefore the more of it you trudge through in life, the stronger you will eventually become. 

Two Wrongs make More Wrongs.

I am in a rut. 
I’ve been bummed the past few days because my beautiful, spirited, horny, little cat made a dash for sweet freedom (sweet sex!) and slipped out of my apartment building and on to the streets of Providence.  If you’ve seen her, please email me or call me.  
I have not seen her since Sunday and it has really put a damper on what I suspect has been a slow downward hike for some time.
Sometimes you do not realize that your life is crap until you pick up your takeout for one wearing a sundress without any underwear on and then lie to the delivery man by asking, “Are there a few sets of chopsticks in here?” as you point to your massive bag of sushi. 
Yes, it was a moment straight out of Ms. Congeniality where she orders an Asian feast, only she has more balls than me and told them to hold off on the extra cutlery.  
Where as, I lied to my delivery man because apparently today I care what he thinks of me.  
Honestly, there are better reasons to dislike me than the amount of food I consume in solidarity. 
I had a small “aha” moment recently.
Actually, it was more of an “oh fuck…” moment. 
I know a few of my friends, who also have taken a circuitous approach to their bachelor degree, felt pretty bummed this past May when most of our classmates were graduating and leaving the rest of us feeling like underachieving and potentially permanent undergrads. 
That was their, “oh fuck…” moment.
I felt weirdly okay.
I have this issue where I do not deal with emotional things right away, I get mad several weeks, sometimes months, later and I think that the psychological dump I am in now started in May.
My “oh fuck…” moment should have been back when all my friends were twirling in their gowns and throwing their caps to the height of their student debt. 
Because nothing I do is normal, my moment came one morning when I woke up and thought, “I think my mother had high hopes for me at one point.” 
This thought blossomed in my mind as I fumbled for my underpants in the condemned apartment of a man over ten years my senior.  
As I slipped out the door for my rendition of the fabled “walk of shame” (or what I usually call 10 a.m. on a Sunday) I mused, “I think at one point I wanted more for myself.”
It’s not even entirely the school thing that has given me this sense of failure. I just suspect that my emotions started to go belly up in May as I watched my friends move on to the next phase in their lives as I set up camp in the gutter. 
The other side of my bummed out state is the delayed sadness over all the crap that has happened the past few months concerning myself and the male species. 
Dating has started to feel like my college career: tedious, misguided, disappointing to my parents and accompanied by the feeling of I’m-not-doing-it-correctly. 
I am pretty sure my parents wanted me to be happy; probably with someone who could take care of me and would love me (in that order…), and I think I use to want that too, mostly because I was told that was simply how it works….kind of like how a person “goes to college”. 
There was no debate on these issues in my family. I was to go to school and I would be successful, just like I would meet a nice boy and fall in love.
Apparently these thing just happen for people. 
I am starting to think that college and dating are two things I people lied to me about.
For both I was told how I should go about them, what time I was “allowed” to start them and what I was supposed to gain from both experiences. 
This has set me up for a world of disappointment. 
If I have learned anything from my unending undergraduate pursuit and my drunken escapades with random boys who never loved me, it is that nothing goes as planned.
Sometimes you choose the wrong major, the wrong boy, the wrong bed, the wrong school, the wrong answer and the wrong path. 
Will ever actually finish my degree? Who knows. 
Will stop waking up in the bed of a man who thinks of me simply as, “his little friend”? Probably not.
I know that two wrongs do not make a right, but I’m starting to think my life may be a field test for the exact number of wrongs it takes before it all leads to a right.