Working Essentials

It’s so silent. The only sounds heard are your own footsteps. It didn’t seem like reality. You check your phone to see the time; it’s only 8 A.M. You ask yourself, how in the hell are you going to last until 1 P.M.? All of a sudden, people start coming up to the door left and right, ordering their drinks. 

“I want a grande latte, 5 pumps of vanilla, two extra shots of espresso, three pumps of white mocha, vanilla sweet cream cold foam, and make sure it’s extra hot.” 

You scribble down their orders as fast as possible. You run back and forth to the register that is on the other side of the store and you start to feel your heart beat faster and faster. You can’t tell if it’s from running back and forth or the anxiety of trying to remember who gave you what and what they ordered. You feel the sweat form under your hat and under your mask. You somehow manage to get everyone their cash/cards back and now you just wait. You try to make small talk with them, but the conversation doesn’t go past, “how’s your day so far? Good? Cool.” It’s just awkward stares. After about two hours of you running back and forth from the register to the door, the crowd dispersed, and silence appeared once more. 

***

You pull up to work for the first time in a few weeks and you see that all your coworkers are wearing masks, trying to distance as much as they could. There is heaviness in the air. You can feel everyone’s nerves and panic fill the air. It’s the “are we actually ready for this?” kind of feeling. 

You suffer through a week of meetings and new videos about the protocols that are being put into place as well as new eloquent ways to essentially tell customers that we have no idea about anything. The day has finally arrived. You take a deep breath in and try to stay focused on the job. The sweat starts forming on your forehead under your hat. Not sure if it’s from the heat that hit your face at the door, or if it’s simply the sheer panic that you are about to deal with people for the first time.

One of the newest rules is that you aren’t allowing customers in the store…for now. So, you go to your assigned position and of course, you get the worst position of all—the door. 

You have to stand there and see people walking by and be ready to be approached by random stragglers who don’t believe in this whole “COVID thing.” It’s one of the most boring spots, because you have to stand around and wait for people to be interested in coffee, which is also the exact reason it induces so much anxiety. People keep on passing by, trying to avoid eye contact with you. No one wants to even say hello. Now you know how those guys standing on the corners in Manhattan feel when they try to hand you something as simple as a card with some kind of promotion on it. You see someone start to approach you, prep your customer service voice, and begin your spiel. 

“Hi, how are you doing today? Can we get anything started for you today?”

“Oh, are you guys like open open?”

“Yeah, we’re open, we’re just not letting anyone inside at the moment, but we can take your order here if you would like,” you say with a smile. Then you remember they can’t see that you are smiling. 

“Oh, do you not have a menu or anything on you?” 

Stuttering, you try to then list off from memory our menu,

“Um no, but what are you in the mood for, coffee? Tea? hot? Cold? Sweet? Bitter? There’s also the app, which has most of our menu items if you want to check it out.” 

Their face blank as you await their response. Luckily, you don’t work for commission. As you wait, you think to yourself about how all the times you watched America’s Next Top Model has paid off, because you are more thankful that ever for Tyra Banks teaching you how to smize. You smile with your eyes, while under the mask you are telling her off in the most subtle way. 

 “You can’t just get me a menu? Whatever.” And they walk away. 

“Well, have a good one,” you yell as they walk away. You thought to yourself, “is this what this is going to be like for the next couple of months?” This was only the first hour of your shift, what is the rest of the six hours going to be like? “Is it really this important to be open when you know nothing about what is actually going on in the world? Is coffee really this essential?” 

Your coworker finally asked to switch positions with you. You’ve never been more thankful to be put on bar to make drinks. The anxiety of dealing with people lifts off of you…but then anytime you pull a sticker more just keep coming. It’s like you are right back at the door. You know people are probably waiting on you, so you keep pulling stickers, pulling shots, and steaming milk. You look up to see that there is a line of people waiting to order at the door. You feel a wave of mixed emotions, you feel like you are needed, but also confused and angry that they can’t make their simple cup of coffee at home. After you pull your last sticker, your manager tells you that you can finish that last drink and go home. The day is finally over. 

You finally get to go home.

The second you step into your apartment, you are finally able to take a deep breath and release all that anxious energy that you’ve held onto. You step into the shower and scrub all the coffee stains, sticky syrup, and sweat away. Then you get comfortable. Sometimes it honestly feels like there’s not enough body scrub in the world to get that gross coffee scent out from your pores. After your intense scrubbing shower, you sit on the floor for a few minutes and stretch out your limbs so you wouldn’t be sore or stiff the next day. You need to de-stress. When you go back to work the next day, you see a sign up on the door that informed you and your coworkers that you will be allowing people inside to purchase their own coffee. You shoot a panicked and confused look to your coworkers which was returned with the same fear. 

You just get used to all the running back and forth with memorizing orders, and all of a sudden, your manager and corporate expect you to be fine with people inside breathing the same air you are. To add on to this new wave of anxiety you are transferred to a store you’d never been in before, where you didn’t know anyone or where anything is. Essentially, you are starting over, with a whole new roster of rude customers. 

***

“Hi welcome in, what can we get started for you today?” 

“You’re new,” she says with some distain. 

She wasn’t wrong, it is your first day.

You simply respond with a yes ma’am and ask what she wants to order. 

“They know what it is,” she says pointing to the barista on the bar. 

One of the shift managers comes up and calmly tells you what she usually orders as the customer hands you the money to pay for her drink. The newest rule is that we are not allowed to or shouldn’t hand the customer their change to avoid touching. So, you put the change on the counter and she starts to raise her voice. 

“What is wrong with you, I handed you the money, and you throw is back in my face? What the hell is the matter with you?” 

You start apologizing profusely as you try to explain to her what the new protocol is, but she doesn’t seem to want to listen to anything you have to say. She then looks at your shift manager and says with her finger pointed at you, “you better train her to get some manners and do her job right. Who does she think she is? She’s rude and needs to learn respect around here.” 

Your shift manager looks at her and apologizes and gives her, her beverage and makes small talk with her. You turn as red as a fresh tomato and try not to let the tears that were forming in your eyes drop. You can’t stop you’re mind running, questioning just how much you needed to be here. It’s just coffee…how hard is it to make it at home? What is it about coffee that makes you this “essential?” You blink your impending tears away and carry on with the next customer. In hindsight you should have said what the new protocol is first, and then place the money down, but the anxiety of making sure you are following new protocol makes your mind go blank for a split second. You are simply doing what you are told. 

It’s a short 4-hour shift, but it feels like it was a regular 8-hour shift simply from the constant fear that you are going to do or say something wrong and get yelled at by someone who “hasn’t had their caffeine yet” once again. The next few people that walk in are those types that don’t believe COVID is real. No masks, and no care for those of us that are working. Here we are working harder, making sure everyone was safe enough to be here. You are literally putting yourself at risk only to make sure everyone was happy and satisfied all while serving people one of their essentials—caffeine. 

Cue the sweat.

“Ms. Karen” walks in, mask-less, cutting people off, completely ignoring the sign and the bright green arrows that are taped on the floor, and starts to spew her order. Politely and customer service like, you smize and say, 

“Good morning ma’am, do you happen to have a mask that you can put on, it’s the building and store policy.” 

Already angry she yells,

“NO! I don’t. I physically can’t wear one, I have a medical condition that my doctor wrote up for me! You can’t tell me that I have to wear a mask!” 

You take a deep sigh. You have to find a way to tell her to wait outside without sounding rude or mean.

“Our apologies ma’am, we understand that, but that’s the building and store policy. We can take your order, but you’ll have to wait outside, and we will bring you your drink in that case.” 

She huffs, “This is ridiculous, this is AMERICA, I can do what I want. You can’t just tell me I have to wear a mask; I have a medical condition!” 

As a scene starts to build, your shift manager walks out from the back and informs “Ms. Karen” that she has to leave and that we won’t be serving her at this time. As she’s walking out, she screams that we’re stupid and rude. The customer behind her looks at me and says, 

“I’m sorry that you have to deal with that. Must be really difficult for you guys.” 

You feel the tension release from your shoulders. With a slight sigh of relief, you say, “It’s okay. We all learn to deal with it,” and take her order. 

After that your shift manager puts you on bar to make drinks to give you a change of pace, some time away from actually speaking to customers. You keep pulling stickers, steaming milk, pulling shots, and shaking iced teas, until it’s time for you to finally go home. There is a wave of happiness that washed over you once you realize its finally time to leave this place. If the look of relief on your face isn’t a dead giveaway, the pace in which you leave the store definitely is. 

All that tension that builds up from four hours is released by letting those tears you were stowing away finally fall. You get home and shower and scrub all the grossness away, and sit on the floor in complete silence, and stretch out your limb once again. You keep thinking about something one of your customers and what they said to you earlier. It makes you realize that maybe you really are “essential.” 

“Thank you for being open, I don’t know what I would do without you guys.”