The Barista
The life of a Detroit Lakes barista at a small not well known coffee shop.
By Payton Lange |Professional Napper
Waking up thinking about all the free white chocolate peppermint almond milk lattes I’m going to make myself is the way I dream to wake up for the rest of my life. Thinking about all the expired muffins and scones I’m going to eat in the back room by the fridge always makes my stomach rumble and begin to prepare itself for that piece of blueberry sunshine. The part that involves getting out of bed at five in the morning to drive fifteen minutes and open up the coffee shop, Baked in DL, is not as delightful.
My mornings at the coffee shop consist of my regulars, unlimited coffee, shoving my face full of expired muffins, finding a classic “artsy” coffee shop playlist, and waiting for Kassie (my forty year old bestie who calls me Payty) to get to work in about six hours. The highlight of my day is when Kassie comes up to my counter saying, “aww hi my Payty.” She always comes in for a long hug, they tend to last anywhere from two to three minutes as she asks how I am and how my morning was. I ask her how she is doing and once again she says that her meds are not doing enough so she has picked up smoking pot again with her new boyfriend. She constantly says that she just wishes they would put down humans like they do dogs. I tell her how much I love her, then she shows me some new poetry pieces she has been working on.
They come in like a sweaty flock of chirping birds, complaining about all the “stay at home mom” stuff they have to do later that day at their lake mansion while yelling at me to get them water and stamp their punch card.
My regulars consist of the old man with the high voice who always gets the small drip coffee, my old best friends mom Liz who gets the large soy latte with no flavoring. She leaves me way too big of a tip after her morning yoga class next door. All the yoga girls that follow liz and use up an entire keg of almond nitro. They come in like a sweaty flock of chirping birds, complaining about all the “stay at home mom” stuff they have to do later that day at their lake mansion while yelling at me to get them water and stamp their punch card.
My biggest fear when I’m working is getting a drink wrong or not knowing how to make a drink. I especially know the struggle of having the barista mess up your drink if you are lactose free. That little mistake of putting whole milk instead of almond can ruin a person’s entire day. That cup of coffee is something these people are relying on to give them that extra boost for the day. I do not want to be the one thing in their day that makes everything else go wrong. Sometimes it is a struggle to remain that energized at five in the morning, the unlimited lattes I make really seem to help though.
When a customer orders a cortado you know they are a fancy hipster about to have a business meeting by the big window, but guess what… he will not tip you a cent even though he comes in about three times a month and you have to heat up his tiny cortado about three times.
Some secrets about working at a coffee shop are that almost every drink is made the same as a latte. The only difference is the foamyness of the milk and lattes are cheaper than most items. Sometimes when I can’t get the milk to froth enough for a cappuccino I just make them a latte and call ‘er good. Also, you can ask the barista if they have any day old bakery items and you can get a free scone that tastes the exact same as the fresh baked on in the display case. When a customer orders a cortado you know they are a fancy hipster about to have a business meeting by the big window, but guess what… he will not tip you a cent even though he comes in about three times a month and you have to heat up his tiny cortado about three times. So welcome to the world of being a barista in a rich lake town full of “stay at home” moms whose lives consist of yoga and wine, you having to pick the right music to listen to on repeat for nearly eight hours, and nearly unlimited day old scones.
