Okay really...it's 2AM on a now, Sunday morning.
Why am I still up? Out of all things, I'm looking up recipes that I can tweak to my own liking. This is a fat girl, please pause moment. I've been invited to do really cool 26 year old things like going outside and getting wasted at a dope party and if I played my cards right, guaranteed to go to someone's after party. I was even supposed to do the intimate thing and have a date night with my husband. One of my friends came in from the UK and I just saw and heard the message at the last minute to go to an open mic.
Oh no...what do I do for pure entertainment? Read articles on New York Times about guess what? Food. Use my handy dandy journal and write down what? Recipes. Geez, either I'm a nerd ahead of my time or I need a damn life.
Well, no sense in complaining about it, right? Read this article about Starbucks' employees locking down the bathrooms in desperation not to clean it. Made me chuckle a bit. At a time back in the land called 2005 and 2006, I used to work as a Barista. In fact, I was such a workaholic, I took openings at several spots. My home store was next door to Bad Boy and I'd be there before the crack of dawn to open. Too bad there were countless psychopaths who loved talking with me. This was pre-locs, pre-culinary school and pre-baby weight. Geez, that's when I was warm, fuzzy and naive.
Anyway, I remember my regulars: a man who came in with a jogging suit and stand there at 5:55am for his Tall Skim Vanilla Latte with a Butter Croissant. Dedication I tell you. Then, it would follow up with another person who wanted this Tall Soy Peppermint Latte. She ordered this every other day that it made me interested in trying the drink out. Wasn't bad at all. Unfortunately, around morning rush, I remember this one particular day, a homeless man came in with a stack of newspapers and had a cup of coffee. He didn't come to my register nor did I make his drink. Perhaps someone felt bad for him. Besides, I was in the theater district in the heart of 54th and Broadway. Tourists mostly have a conscious; typical NYers would give him some change or tell him to go look for a job. It had to be close to two hours because I remember being told by my store manager to take a break. I have this tendency to want to potty right during break but I was greeted to a nice red "Occupied" stamp on the door. Someone's in the bathroom.
Just my luck, there's another Starbucks down the block. Used it, enjoyed my ten minute break on my derriere and ran back to my store. This guy was still on the toilet. Really dude? How much did Starbucks make you go? Forty mins later, my supervisor demanded that this homeless guy leave the bathroom.
We were whiplashed by this alarming funk. Oh dear, it was horrific. Smelled like a clusterfuck of a dog tag teaming dead chickens from behind while going through an R. Kelly moment. Didn't get it? Just think about it, smoke a cigarette and call me in the morning. This guy had the audacity to forget where the toilet was and I spent most of the afternoon trying to figure out why would the toilet play Trick or Treat with this guy and fool him into thinking that toilet was on the wall and who really is going to clean this up. For 9.00/hr plus tips. I don't know man.
My supervisor walked past me and asked my coworker. Bless his heart and his nose. I would have puked and gave up my job that day. All I thought to myself is...no way man. No effin way am I cleaning that up. I salute those brave Starbucks' employees that said hell to the nawl on cleaning up that slop. The things that food service workers endure man...y'all just don't understand.
Thank God I'm in the damn kitchen right now and I pray to the man above that don't get an irate supervisor who gets off on sending me in a garbage bin with rats to clean out. Please God...no flying cockaroaches and rats. Please. I'm a woman (the very few times I would pull out the W card).
Why am I still up? Out of all things, I'm looking up recipes that I can tweak to my own liking. This is a fat girl, please pause moment. I've been invited to do really cool 26 year old things like going outside and getting wasted at a dope party and if I played my cards right, guaranteed to go to someone's after party. I was even supposed to do the intimate thing and have a date night with my husband. One of my friends came in from the UK and I just saw and heard the message at the last minute to go to an open mic.
Oh no...what do I do for pure entertainment? Read articles on New York Times about guess what? Food. Use my handy dandy journal and write down what? Recipes. Geez, either I'm a nerd ahead of my time or I need a damn life.
Well, no sense in complaining about it, right? Read this article about Starbucks' employees locking down the bathrooms in desperation not to clean it. Made me chuckle a bit. At a time back in the land called 2005 and 2006, I used to work as a Barista. In fact, I was such a workaholic, I took openings at several spots. My home store was next door to Bad Boy and I'd be there before the crack of dawn to open. Too bad there were countless psychopaths who loved talking with me. This was pre-locs, pre-culinary school and pre-baby weight. Geez, that's when I was warm, fuzzy and naive.
Anyway, I remember my regulars: a man who came in with a jogging suit and stand there at 5:55am for his Tall Skim Vanilla Latte with a Butter Croissant. Dedication I tell you. Then, it would follow up with another person who wanted this Tall Soy Peppermint Latte. She ordered this every other day that it made me interested in trying the drink out. Wasn't bad at all. Unfortunately, around morning rush, I remember this one particular day, a homeless man came in with a stack of newspapers and had a cup of coffee. He didn't come to my register nor did I make his drink. Perhaps someone felt bad for him. Besides, I was in the theater district in the heart of 54th and Broadway. Tourists mostly have a conscious; typical NYers would give him some change or tell him to go look for a job. It had to be close to two hours because I remember being told by my store manager to take a break. I have this tendency to want to potty right during break but I was greeted to a nice red "Occupied" stamp on the door. Someone's in the bathroom.
Just my luck, there's another Starbucks down the block. Used it, enjoyed my ten minute break on my derriere and ran back to my store. This guy was still on the toilet. Really dude? How much did Starbucks make you go? Forty mins later, my supervisor demanded that this homeless guy leave the bathroom.
We were whiplashed by this alarming funk. Oh dear, it was horrific. Smelled like a clusterfuck of a dog tag teaming dead chickens from behind while going through an R. Kelly moment. Didn't get it? Just think about it, smoke a cigarette and call me in the morning. This guy had the audacity to forget where the toilet was and I spent most of the afternoon trying to figure out why would the toilet play Trick or Treat with this guy and fool him into thinking that toilet was on the wall and who really is going to clean this up. For 9.00/hr plus tips. I don't know man.
My supervisor walked past me and asked my coworker. Bless his heart and his nose. I would have puked and gave up my job that day. All I thought to myself is...no way man. No effin way am I cleaning that up. I salute those brave Starbucks' employees that said hell to the nawl on cleaning up that slop. The things that food service workers endure man...y'all just don't understand.
Thank God I'm in the damn kitchen right now and I pray to the man above that don't get an irate supervisor who gets off on sending me in a garbage bin with rats to clean out. Please God...no flying cockaroaches and rats. Please. I'm a woman (the very few times I would pull out the W card).
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