The Writer's Right

Starbuck Memories…

I slept over Jeff’s last night so I took a different route to work. I had to stop off the highway and get gas. Right down the street was my favorite Starbuck’s, so I decided to treat myself to a coffee.

I wanted in line, feeling the friendly familiarness of the place. The basrista was busy helping a patron in front of me pick out a new coffee. I had time to spare so I told him not to hurry. I don’t care if the coffee is $4 a cup. you get excellent service for that price and I love good customer service.

After he helped the customer in front of me, I placed my order. “Ventie nonfat, raspberry latte, no foam please”

“Mmmmmm! That’s the best combo!“ the barista declared. I smiled. I love the cute little gay men they have working at Starbucks. They are friendly, cool, and so trendy. They make me think by ordering a simple latte, I’m uber in. I’m not, as most of my friends can atest to, but in Starbucks, I’m at the cusp of coffee trends.

“And an apple fritter, please,“ I said as we jotted my order on the side of the cup.

“This is the BEST pastry in here. Do you want it warmed?“ I told him I was all set. “Well if you have a toaster oven close or a micro, zap it for just a few seconds and it’ll be ooey goodness!“

I smiled. Nope, no toaster oven at work. And the there are only four microwaves at work and I wasn’t going to fight off the morning breakfast crowd at work. Immediately I felt a sense of sadness. I remember my old job and two of my favorite coworkers came into my mind.

This was our place. We’d grab sushi down the street and then head here for an afternoon caffeine pick-me. Daryn would always get some sort of mocha latte chalka something or other, that would sound almost poetic and taste even better. Donna, always consistent, would go simply for a venti nonfat latte. I always mixed it up, but always NO FOAM! I saw two ladies having coffee as I waited to my latte and I knew if Daryn and Donna were with me, we’d be wondering if it was a romantic interlude over lattes or just coffee. (By the way, I’m it wasn’t just coffee. I saw a pretty romantic good-bye as one lady walked the other to her car.) But either way, it would have had us talking.

We’d pile into Daryn’s SUV for “Pilot talk” and anything would go. It was a great way to spend lunch.

I got my latte, headed to my car and cried, realizing how much I missed them. I miss talking over the cubicle on either side (I sat in the middle of them), and our daily antics. I cried because while I’m friendly with my coworkers here, I haven’t connected with anyone like I did them. And for the first time, I admitted to myself that I was miserable at work. I called my mom and cried to her. She told me that better things were coming and I just had to wait it out. She knows that I’m not happy.

I’m not. There, I said it. I’m not happy at work. It’s just a job, “a means to an end,“ said another coworker of mine who, like me, doesn’t romanticize the job at all. It pays the bills. It’s not challenging, it’s not making a difference, it’s just a job in the corporate America jungle.

I read a blog recently from a coworker, and she gushed about how much she loves corporate America. I can see why. She’s the ultimate butt-kisser and she’s the perfect little corporate droan. The thought makes me want to vomit.

I was actually a little disgusted at how much she went on about how she loves her job - the same one that I do. She even posted pictures of the company and of her desk and cubicle row on her facebook page. Am I the only one that thinks that borders on bizarre and pathetic. I guess the company brainwashing is working on her.

But I must keep my chin up. Better things are coming and this too shall pass.

P.S. And I find comfort in my delicious nonfat, raspberry latte. It’s perfect, as usual. Thank heavens for small favors.