Jennifer Carlson, GPC Student

The Barista Queen

My life has changed dramatically since I left my lucrative job managing a small marketing firm to work part time as a barista at Starbucks. I finally decided to follow through with my tentative decision to go back to college, and thought that serving coffee would be an effortless, relaxing change from the high stress position that I then held.

As usual, I was wrong! Four in the morning, an extremely ungodly hour, used to find me tucked into my warm, comfortable bed, drooling away. These days, it finds me stuffing a processed cheese and ketchup quesadilla down my throat as I barrel down the back roads of Alpharetta in a fruitless attempt to arrive at work on time. Previously, I dolled myself up in dress slacks and heels every morning, and arrived home at the end of the day looking virtually the same. Now, I put on a clean apron and freshly ironed collared shirt, and come home bedraggled and rancid. Somehow, an entire freezing caramel Frapuccino will have slid down the front of my shirt, sticky mocha and greasy white whipped cream will be splotched all over my pants and ratted into my hair, and I will be covered head to toe with chai freckles. Chanel’s Chance, once my signature scent, has been reluctantly replaced with Eau de Brewed Coffee. The disgusting smell, similar to cigarette smoke, has permeated my room and my car, and no amount of Fabreeze with take it away. Sugary foods were once turned down without a second glance, but months of indoctrination into the amazing properties of Peanut Butter stacks and peppermint mochas have me not only craving chocolate in the dead of night, but have added on an unwelcome extra layer of cushioning to my hips and behind as well.

Caffeine was also not a staple in my healthy diet before the career change. Now, on my days off, I feverishly pace the kitchen, washing down Advil after Advil, telling myself that I don’t need coffee, that I’m not addicted. After about an hour, I decide to just have enough to make my headache go away, and end up brewing a whole pot of the hot, savory, life saving nectar of the gods.

Before the job switch, my work days consisted of 12 drawn out hours in front of a computer, with the option to tell any angry customers to review their contracts and suck it up. At Starbucks, I spend 7 to 8 excruciating hours on my aching feet, smiling the entire time. I grin when only three employees decide to show up to work. I beam delightedly and apologize when an enraged customer, eyes gleaming psychotically, throws their 182 degree latte at me, spittle flying everywhere as they scream that they can only taste two Splendas, not two and a half. I grit my teeth and paste on a happy face every day, telling myself that at least these mean, insane people are releasing all of their tensions on me before they tackle traveling on 400.

My smile falters, however, when I slit open my paycheck every other week. I made considerably more money as an office manager, and while not frivolous, I shopped unceasingly. My two-year- old nephew and I were forever decked out in gear fresh off the racks at the Lakers store, and, honestly, I happily purchased a brand-new pair of cute shoes about once every other month. Now, generic contact solution is at the top of my recent grocery lists, and a substantial quantity of time is spent trying in vain to rationalize Bud Light as a necessity, not an impractical desire. As sad or envious as it makes me, clothes are not on the meager priority list.

It’s been a rocky lesson, but I’ve grudgingly learned that contrary to my prior beliefs, life will continue even if you wear scuffed shoes. While the transition has been difficult, and I might choose differently if I could do it all again, every morning I take deep breaths, and repeat to myself that it will all pay off when I am clutching my hard-earned college degree in my coffee stained hands.