Roasted Reflections
Brewing over lessons learned in retail
Some number of years ago, I sat down and wrote out the first draft of what you’re reading right now.
I took cathartic potshots at my employer at the time, but because I feared they might find my polemic and then fire me, it sat collecting dust, ultimately never to see publication.
Since I’m no longer in their employ, I don’t need to talk around them. Also, that angry edge softened over time: not because I suddenly grew to love the place; heavens no! I had set down my grievances too early; I couldn’t properly reflect on the experience in the midst of it.
I had to jump ship in order to do that.
That’s what the original piece suffered from: an insufficient coda that had no real depth or insight. With time removed from my last shift, my outlook on the five-year experience with the world’s foremost coffeehouse chain has undergone numerous changes; from the grateful to the neutral to the still-somewhat-bitter. I’ve gotten to a place where I can put my unique experiences and lessons learned in writing, in hopes that something I have to say here may find some worth.
Them Magic Beans
The journey started in January of 2016. While the country was plunged into the fervor of an historic election year, I quietly slipped on the green apron, the Starbucks siren mascot grinning from the middle of my chest, tied it around my waist and followed my trainer behind the counter to start learning the tools of the trade in a corner store in southern Orange County, California.
I hadn’t been a Starbucks regular; I may have slinked into one for the occasional hot chocolate and bagel, but that was because I needed writing fuel. A man can’t expect to write on a growling stomach, y’know!
And now here I was: on the other side, about to be exposed to company secrets; to understand why so many were so obsessed with these calorically-astronomical frou-frou drinks.
Throughout my five years with Starbucks, I’d meet scores of people, make some friends, grow in ways that weren’t initially evident, discover things about the world, and learn valuable lessons along the way I can reflect on with 20/20 hindsight. While I could write a whole book on the experience if I wanted to, as one gentleman who turned his barista experience into a New York Times bestseller did, a little article will do just fine as I don’t have a lot to gab about.
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
It baffles me why this even still needs to be said, but some people still haven’t gotten this very common-sense thought through their thick Neanderthal skull plates.
There are rushes. There are multiple people crammed into one lobby, waiting. Lines and bottlenecks are inevitable. Shouting “hey, where’s my drink” or “I’ve been waiting for x minutes” at them is not going to magically make it appear any quicker, geniuses.
The people behind the bar and behind the register do what they can to make genuine connections with people and do their best to make each customer experience a positive one. Register was my most hated position, and I was never shy about expressing that openly to my superiors, but despite all that, I did what I could to leave the social anxiety at the door, smile, and help Dick, Jane and John as best I could. Being snapped at or grumbled at or be kept listening to a whole prima donna routine with the whole line watching, in no small effort, sent the whole day to hell.
I wasn’t paid nearly well enough to deal with the public; I absolutely understand why servers have that revenge fantasy of spitting in some a-hole’s food; although, I would never condone that in real life. After my experience, I gained an immense amount of respect for baristas, servers and other customer service folk, and the abuses they can take. I’ve made it a point to express my genuine appreciation every time and never raise a stink when any minor inconvenience comes along.
There are some battles just not worth fighting when you only paid $4.45 for a caramel macchiato, or, when you can just ask nicely for them to fix it or re-make it.
Management was a mixed bag since the job was a revolving door: some were okay, a few good, and even fewer terrible. I had a chick named Jen for a manager; she took “b**** with a capital B” to its highest possible font size. She alienated everyone on the store team, made coming to work an absolute dread, took no criticism and cared not for how her actions came off; I don’t think she even possessed any empathy, for that matter! I’m no expert in management or leadership (at least not yet), but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see how that form of “leadership” bares zero resemblance to the “welcoming and inclusive” atmosphere Starbucks company policy is supposed to foster.
Of the more moderate shift leaders and store managers I had, they constantly made promises to “be better” and “more understanding” in their interactions with all of us on staff, but almost always ended up reverting back to old patterns of remaining aloof or letting the stress of rushes overwhelm them and reduce them to barking out orders or nagging us for not moving fast enough.
I can’t say it enough: give these guys and gals the respect they deserve. They’re people, not punching bags.
I’m Not What I Do, and Neither Are You
I despise job shaming and the gutter snipes who engage in it.
The same feeling should also apply to self-criticism, but it’s easier said than done. Being used to judging myself so harshly on many things, it colored how I saw my work and my work ethic. I was so concerned with how people viewed me to a ridiculous extent; I had a vision of how I saw myself and how I wanted others to see me: I was this talented, creative individual destined for great things! I was not the mop I carried, or the trash I hauled to the dumpster, or the coffee beans I ground every half-hour!
Since I wasn’t doing what I loved and doing what I needed to so I could get by, it only brought me a deeper sense of shame and failure to my station.
Was it a bruised ego, a wounded pride?
Well…yeah.
I won’t factor my own foibles out.
Putting stock in the momentary opinion of others — people you have a greater probability of never seeing again — is such a silly, stupid thing to do, but again: easier said than done. One of my biggest regrets, which turned into one of my biggest lessons, is to never tie my worth as a person to my occupation, or my skill, or my talents alone. If I hated seeing others shamed for their job, I should hate it when I do it to myself.
All forms of labor in our world, from the physical to the digital, from blue-collar to white-collar, are important for society to function. Even in its less-than-glamorous sense, it was important work: our service helped people be able to function in order to keep the world going round in some way.
Seizing the Day (and the Degree)
Granted, while the everyday tasks may be less-than exciting, there’s no mincing words that retail companies do kinda take care of you.
For those who may need them and can’t afford them, benefits like full health coverage, retirement/401k savings account setup, and higher education/career development can be an easy draw for people who need work. Starbucks, in partnership with Arizona State University in Tempe, created the College Achievement Plan for employees who wanted a higher education with full reimbursement benefits.
I was in my early twenties, and had put college off for a couple years after finishing high school to take a detour in film school (no regrets) and move West, so I couldn’t get much higher than minimum wage work without that sweet piece of paper, as much as the artistic purist within me wanted so desperately to believe to the contrary.
While I took the opportunity begrudgingly, over those four years, as I got over the hardest hump of studying and cramming, I saw the forest for the trees in regards to what I was giving to myself. I signed up for classes that would sharpen my existing skills, give me new ones, and allow me to discover subject areas I would grow to love and explore. Hardly a stupid waste of time, as I naïvely believed.
When I checked off my last class four years to the month I enrolled, and weeks later received my diploma in the mail, I beamed with a well-earned pride. A month after that, I left Starbucks and found a full-time job at a start-up with higher pay, health coverage, and a position in a department I was using my talents to help to build with the team we have. I’m sure I wouldn’t have been hired without that sweet piece of paper I first turned my nose up at.
But hey, I lived and learned, and I wised up.
If anyone reading this schlock is working in retail and they have these kinds of career improvement benefits, or if you’re looking for chances to rise up in the company so you move off the floor and into a cushy back office, take advantage of it! Do the work now so your future self can thank you when can finally punch in your last shift, throw off the company shirt or apron, and walk out the sliding doors for a better career and a brighter future. Push yourself outside of your comfort zone, look for opportunities to benefit your growth, and go after them.
Hangin’ In There
There’s only so many ways you can say “this job will suck” until you run out of words in the English language.
And it did suck.
It sucked having an erratic schedule that sometimes gave me the hours I needed, and sometimes didn’t.
It sucked having to live paycheck to paycheck, barely able to save any of it because of so many expenses.
It sucked fitting the rest of my life around my job rather than having a much-needed consistency and stability that has no place in retail’s design.
It sucked busting my chops for other people who couldn’t have been bothered to notice even a little bit.
It sucked seeing myself become more and more jaded over time having to see people’s true nature:
- Schizophrenic freak-outs
- Drugged-up weirdos mumbling incoherently
- Racial slurs and epithets hurled about
- Trash cans thrown in the middle of the store lobby
- Cops being called on dangerous customers
You name it, it most likely happened.
These were realities not just shared by me, but countless others working retail. I was grateful to have a job and get some pay, but the trade-off seemed just not worth it at times. It was hard.
Even then, I bucked up, shook the dust off, and kept going, even when every fiber in my being begged me earnestly to say “eff it” and quit, right then and there. There’s a great lesson to be learned there in perseverance, willpower and initiative: higher-level employers love the hell out of those character traits.
For a while, I made the mistake of treating where I was as an excuse to hold myself back from putting in the work of advancing, because I was “too tired” or some cockamamie BS like that. Once I got wiser, I spent as much free time as I could hitting the pavement and doing everything short of hounding employers so I could get that sweet escape.
I hung in there, but no one ever said I had to stay there forever.
“Ya Just Might Learn Somethin’…”
Starbucks was the third job I held then: I first started at the Ralph’s grocery chain, then when I left there had a pretty good gig doing film and video conversion work, but got dumped from there after not even a month for whatever stupid reason they had.
It’s both forgettable (as much as I can) and formative. It took up five years of my life, but without it, I wouldn’t be in the better position I’m in as I’m writing this sentence.
I learned to value the ethic of work, but not to find my identity in it.
I found the benefit of the hustle and the pride of accomplishment in putting myself through Uni on their dime.
I gained a better sense of self-confidence, and with it, a better sense of sociability.
And most important of all…I got the right to talk some major shade about all the shoddy parts of being a low-down coffee pusher.
Hey, it was good for what it was, but I’m glad as all hell that I’m out of it!
And with that, I bid a fond, fickle farewell to the smiling siren.
