Confessions of a Barista #1

We've all seen those Primark slogan tops adorned by Facebook mothers and charity shop rails alike. The really high-fashion, haute couture numbers that give the reader strict instruction to: DO NOT talk to me before I've had my COFFEE. Unfortunately, due to the placement of your t-shirt's fontage, gives the unfortunate impression that the reader is staring straight at yer tits. As Katie Price once said say, the nipples are the eyes of the face. As you were.

Whether coffee is your morning glory, or you've trained your taste buds to simply tolerate coffee after the use and abuse of your mum's Pret Subscription (heaven truly has gained an angel)- coffee has become nothing short of an institution.  

The Barista Script

💓#DoNOTGetBritainTalking

I'm a barista (please to be confused with barister). So when people ask me what I do for a living, I tell them i'm a key worker. I might not get a NHS 10% discount but I do save lives. 

One frapalapamochacino at a time.

Being a barista is quite the universal experience. Whether you steam milk in a chain coffee shop or you faf about in an independent cafe with a silly, over-compensating name like Latte Ass or Your Fave Toxic-Expresso, all baristas are created equal. We are experts in fake laughter, caffeine dependency and over-handling the noisy milk steamer to cover up off-hand comments you make about that one overly-familiar customer. 

It's our job to make you feel welcomed in and relaxed and read the room. No shift is complete without tossing out lines from the customer service script. Customer who is a bit frazzled? Well... "It's because you haven't had your coffee yet!" Barely gets some air blown out of their nose for a response, let alone a proper laugh. But what's a polite puff of nose air between friends! 

When you ask if they would "like some sugar with that"? you hover for 2-3 business working days and fake laugh in anticipation for the inevitable "no thanks! i'm sweet enough" customer reply. Now That's What I Call Funny! 0121Rofl. 

A Venti please!

Personal Specification: I'm proficient in identity crisis and latte art

Being a barista, I find myself talking like I’m playing a caricature of myself. Most of the time, my brain doesn’t know what’s about to come out once my mouth has already begun the talking (mistake). In a desperate attempt to appease to the SW postcoded masses of whom I work for, I start referring to loyalty cards as ‘bad boys’ and call every other hot bevarage a ‘cheeky cup of Joe’.

The demographic for whom I so lovingly serve

During the hours of 8-3pm I do not know who I am. I lose myself to the music, the moment, the demographic. I'm a sponge for who and whatever the customer wants me to be. Call it immaculate customer service? I call it chronic people pleasing! xx 

I’ve started calling Freedom Pass holders ‘my love’ and in the last few months of employment, I've enjoyed more enthused conversations about house renovations and the perils of high cholestrol than I've enjoyed hot dinners! It's easier to be a YES MAN when the people slurping their skinny frappes clearly just want an ear to chat to. Plus, the retired Theatre Kid in me secretly delights in role-playing along with these cafe stock characters. Community service meets method acting.

Never work with kids or animals

Being a barista means you become the ultimate YES MAN. Forget the girl you are outside the hours of employment. You're now the everyman's confidant and therapist, the voice of wisdom and knowlege regarding just how ABSURB house prices and cups of coffee are these days, and the regent childminder, on foot to woo and coo and yabadabadoo about their sticky toddler who you swear is the "cutest baby i've ever seen! oh yes you are!" 

the baby in question #genderreveal

Worst of all are the trophy kids... Think trophy wife but 3 apples high and has an unhealthy babycino dependence (do NOT talk to me before I’ve had my Venti Skinny Babycino). 

What would you expect to look up and see after hearing the frenzied yelps of, "over here! excuse me! Come quickly!!"? The scene of a crime perhaps, or the breaking of some serious news per chance. How about just an obnoxiously-proud grandmother showing off their baby grandson who did something vaguely resembling a smile in your vague direction? Of course this justifies dropping EVERYTHING to marvel in wonder... the baby whose idea of a sick joke is decorating the floor with a village-worth of crossiant crumbs and Frube splodge every afternoon. If you're making coffee for the mums, babies and over-bearing grandkids, paint on that smile and make the best babycino yet-it'll make the hours fly quicker and the £11.44 p/h taste even sweeter.

Children are the future. But then again, so is Climate Change xx