The Barista Confessions, part 2

What's your friendly neighborhood barista to do once she is no longer privileged to work behind the bar?

It's been eleven weeks since I last picked up a portafilter and a tamp or poured my best lopsided rosetta.
Not an extravagantly long period of time - I went without using my barista skills for much longer than that last summer break - but it feels much longer in light of the knowledge that I will not be returning to my favorite coffee-stained tan apron and massive poppa pot fresh brew filters in the fall.

All of the busyness and activity throughout my summer so far has been a distraction from remembering life as it was in McConn, but a few things happened recently that sparked a sudden nostalgia and reflection on my drip brew days.

The first happened about a month ago, when my sister and I ran the Sunburst 5K. If working up enough motivation to run 3.1 miles is difficult enough, it's even harder to do at 6:00 in the morning on a Saturday, and four years of college taught me that coffee is the answer to nearly any question, so I found myself at the closest Starbucks at 5:55 AM. Worried that they might not open in time for me to be caffeinated for this race, I glanced over at the hours of operation.
Open at 6:00 AM.
I stood there awkwardly in the front door, just playing with my phone and keys while I watched the lone employee scramble to get everything ready.
It reminded me of 7:00 AM shifts at McConn. As a happily self-proclaimed morning person, I have worked many opening shifts without complaint. But (and I'm going to be completely honest here, so if you're one of my former customers, please don't take offense) mornings don't often go as planned, and it can be frustrating to have a customer walk up to the register 4 or 5 minutes before the official opening time, pressuring you to be ready when your morning tasks have unexpectedly fallen behind schedule and you're still popping muffins in clamshells rather than putting the last touches on timing the shots.

Standing in the Starbucks that Saturday, I encountered for the first time what it is like to be on the other side of the equation. To be the customer awkwardly waiting for a coffee shop to open, rather than the barista frantically trying to set everything in rights behind the bar. To all my customers - I get it now. Too bad this experience didn't come sooner, so I could "get it" when I was still serving you.
I wanted to tell her I understood. I wanted to reassure her that I know what it's like to be in her position, that I didn't mean to cause her stress by being early. But I didn't. Hopefully, she has also experienced the early-morning coffee crunch, and was forgiving of my minor coffee house faux-pas.

Every spring, McConn holds an end-of-the-year party for all the employees. This party happened back in April, but a friend of mine recently finished editing the pictures she took at the party, and she shared them with us a few days ago, which brought on my second wave of nostalgia. As I scrolled through the smiling faces, I felt a strong longing for the community and friendship we shared. It's one of the best things I have ever had the privilege to be a part of.

Picture by Alicia Wines Photography

Finally, I volunteered last week at Camp Geneva, where I worked over the summer in 2012 as a camp nurse. It was an incredible week, full of friends, God, and lessons, but those are stories for another time. For now, I'll simply say that I was catching up with one of the girls at the end of the week when she mentioned her new job as a barista at Biggby Coffee in Holland. Since these are the barista confessions, I will admit that yes, I felt a twinge of envy at her news.
There are days when I have the crazy, hare-brained idea that I can get it all back. In light of my recent frustrations and discouragement with the job market for brand new graduate nurses, I am sorely tempted to ambush the nearest coffee shop and stiff-arm a copy of my resume to the barista behind the bar saying, "I have two years of coffee experience (one as a manager), and I'm desperate to be back where you are currently standing. HIRE ME."
But there are two reasons I refrain from confusing that poor unsuspecting soul. First, no matter how excellent any other coffee shop may be, it will never be McConn - you can't duplicate that place - and I would be bitterly disappointed by the comparison. Secondly, I recognize that part of my life has ended, and God is leading me to other things. It was good for a time, but now is not that time any longer, and he and I will have different adventures as we move on.

I will most likely never work in a coffee shop again, but espresso will forever run through my veins and I will always claim the title of "barista" just as strongly as I claim the title of "nurse". Nurturing the community of my campus, fueling caffeine addictions, and enriching a customer's day through a smile and a laugh brought me feelings of joy that resonate as clearly in my memory as they did in the moment they came, and I will continue to treasure those experiences.

Read from the beginning: The Barista Confessions, part 1