I know, concentric rings in the bones aside, we've surely grown up

I'm thankful for my job, for as much tumult as it's cost me, especially recently. Even just dipping my little toe into the waters of holiday retail tonight made me sympathetic and grateful for my office with the door that closes (and locks), my big windows, my choose-your-own adventure schedule. That's not to say that it's perfect, or even reasons to stay, but I appreciate those things. If it snows tomorrow, I'll work from home. So many people will be put in dangerous situations to get to a job tomorrow, and I carelessly don't even have to think about it. I'm extremely blessed.

It isn't that I think it's somehow beneath me to work retail or food service. I got my first coffeeshop job at age 16, and I put myself through college and then grad school foaming lattes. It was hard work--on my feet for 6 or 7 hours rushing around--and it was good for me. I talked about some of that in a previous post. It taught me to speak up, to be compassionate, to listen, and to try and understand people better. I also got really good at making coffee. You should see my latte art.

I've been thinking about my first coffeeshop a lot lately. Gosh, I was so little. I didn't know anything outside of the sheltered Christian school microbubble that was so poisonous and lonely to my tiny shy starwars pop jerkoff teenager brain. Then, almost overnight, I was working at this wild new place with public school kids and real adults, people who were so different and intriguing!The star-eyed, bewildered spectacle I made of myself was almost cliche. In particular, there were these two bored twenty-somethings that worked there, Dan and Juli. (I think it was Juli. Something with a cool i ending.)

They seemed to know each other in a way that wasn't clear to me. Dan was super tall, a happy, stoned, sandy-hair vandal. His ambitions included "be really good at spray-painting." Juli, though, was incredible. She was Japanese, with dark, liquid eyes, chin-length hair, a koi tattoo. (Can't even.) She was studying some kind of medical thing at George Mason. Exacting, gorgeous, and terrifying. My manager.

I didn't really know how to treat them, because I wasn't super exposed to young adults, especially not cool ones. The only few I'd ever really encountered were like youth pastors or praise team guitar players in church, which were to be admired at a worshipful distance and not spoken to. I was shy, and I really had no reason to interact with even older teens. I assumed I should treat these twenty-something-year-olds sort of like a cross between a teacher and a Young Life coordinator, and did accordingly, obedient, well-behaved, and meek as ever, waiting for any pearls of wise, spiritual advice to drop out.

One day, Juli was training me on the milk wand. Dan was doing nothing, as ever. We never really seemed to have customers at that place. Every now and then, Juli would cast Dan looks of scalding fury. Mad about him not closing up the shop very good last night, I guess. I was too young and clueless to recognize the body language. I realize, of course, now that Juli and Dan were most certainly hate-fucking--disappearing into the backroom for long periods of time while I naively scraped dried syrup off the wall and tunelessly mouthed the lyrics of Goo Goo Dolls songs. Anyway, between icy silences and loud sighs, she showed me how to grasp the wand with a damp rag and carefully position it above the surface of the milk to create a thick layer of foam on top. It didn't occur to me then, but later, I would see how the whole process is somewhat....well.

To the massive surprise of no one at all, I really fucked it up. Hot half-foamed milk sprayed all over me. Juli sputtered with rage, looked at my spattered apron, and hissed "You look like you've been to see DAN!" Murderous glare thrown back in his general lounging direction.

"Whaaat?" I remember saying, even as I got it, and blushed so hard I could feel my cheeks burning down. Mentally, dying: ahhhhhhhhhhh as my brain tried to reconcile this. Ahhhhh. Because it looks like cum.

Now, though, it's pretty funny! Oh, Dan. I wonder where they are now. Anyway, long anecdote, but I am really happy for the jobs I've had, the good and bad, and the things I've learned from them.