respect your elders.
About two months ago, I was in the middle of an opening shift at the Starbucks I used to work at. I had left the floor to do a lobby sweep, or "twirl" as many within the company call it, which consists of wiping crumbs off tables, checking the condiment bar and bathrooms, and emptying garbage cans that are teeming with disgusting garbage. - This particular morning was very busy. People coming in and out at a consistently overwhelming pace. It's these types of mornings that truly put the employees patience and nerves to the ultimate test. If things are not run smoothly behind the counter there is a high chance of extreme meltdown. Drinks get backed up. This increases the customer's wait time. That frustrates and infuriates the customers. Baristas then, become more careless. Quality of beverage then diminishes, and it's just one huge mother fucking mess.
So, picture that scenario on this particular morning. Then, multiply it by ten thousand. Yeah, that's about right. Absolute chaos. Anarchy. People literally on the verge of choking one another just to get there non-fat latte and make it to work on time. It's utter insanity this morning.
So, I quickly step into the cafe and begin to wipe down the condiment bar and organize the different sugars and powders that people have thrown all over the place, maybe in an attempt at revenge? I don't know, doesn't matter. I just fix them. - I proceed to wipe down a few crumb covered tables that are within a close proximity to the condiment stand. I skip the bathroom. The only thing on my mind is how quickly can I return behind the line and help finish off these beverages. I'm helpless as I watch my co-workers fumble cups and spill syrups. This must be the apocalypse. That's all I can think of.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the narrow, under-sized trash can next to the door exploding with goo. Half finished drinks, pastry bags, mocha and milk all over the side of the damn thing. The floor around it is wet. Insanity. Nothing is making sense.
I sprint to door to change the bags out. After wrestling with the can for several minutes, I finally manage to pull everything out and replace it with two fresh plastic garbage bags. I do this without hesitation, knowing far well that within the next ten minutes these two new bags will meet the same terrible fate as the poor, ruined souls that I'm holding in my hands.
I spot two elderly couples walking towards the exit that I'm standing in front of. Almost instinctively I drop the infested trash bags and open the door for the four of them, holding it open as much as possible so they can easily make their way out. This is something we are not specifically trained to do, but legendary customer service is the reason that Starbucks is the undisputed worldwide champion of coffee. So, why not prove that to our customer's every time I can?
The first couple exits, followed by the second. The last one to walk out is a man. He must be the oldest of the four of them. He can't walk very well, and so he slowly hobbles through the opening. When he was completely outside the building, he stopped and turned to me. Looking me directly in the eyes at 8 in the morning, he uttered two short sentences that no one in my entire life has ever said to me.
"You do good work, son. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."
I could have cried. - I thanked him with one of my patented automated "Thank You, Sir." Just one of the thousand that I might say during a typical shift. I walked back inside and closed the door. - Suddenly it was quiet. There weren't that many people in the store. Frustration levels had fallen. The chaos had been calmed. - I slowly walked back behind the line, took a deep breath, smiled and said, "How are you miss? Can I start a beverage for you this morning?"
I will never, ever forget that day.
I will never, ever let anyone tell me different.
So, picture that scenario on this particular morning. Then, multiply it by ten thousand. Yeah, that's about right. Absolute chaos. Anarchy. People literally on the verge of choking one another just to get there non-fat latte and make it to work on time. It's utter insanity this morning.
So, I quickly step into the cafe and begin to wipe down the condiment bar and organize the different sugars and powders that people have thrown all over the place, maybe in an attempt at revenge? I don't know, doesn't matter. I just fix them. - I proceed to wipe down a few crumb covered tables that are within a close proximity to the condiment stand. I skip the bathroom. The only thing on my mind is how quickly can I return behind the line and help finish off these beverages. I'm helpless as I watch my co-workers fumble cups and spill syrups. This must be the apocalypse. That's all I can think of.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the narrow, under-sized trash can next to the door exploding with goo. Half finished drinks, pastry bags, mocha and milk all over the side of the damn thing. The floor around it is wet. Insanity. Nothing is making sense.
I sprint to door to change the bags out. After wrestling with the can for several minutes, I finally manage to pull everything out and replace it with two fresh plastic garbage bags. I do this without hesitation, knowing far well that within the next ten minutes these two new bags will meet the same terrible fate as the poor, ruined souls that I'm holding in my hands.
I spot two elderly couples walking towards the exit that I'm standing in front of. Almost instinctively I drop the infested trash bags and open the door for the four of them, holding it open as much as possible so they can easily make their way out. This is something we are not specifically trained to do, but legendary customer service is the reason that Starbucks is the undisputed worldwide champion of coffee. So, why not prove that to our customer's every time I can?
The first couple exits, followed by the second. The last one to walk out is a man. He must be the oldest of the four of them. He can't walk very well, and so he slowly hobbles through the opening. When he was completely outside the building, he stopped and turned to me. Looking me directly in the eyes at 8 in the morning, he uttered two short sentences that no one in my entire life has ever said to me.
"You do good work, son. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."
I could have cried. - I thanked him with one of my patented automated "Thank You, Sir." Just one of the thousand that I might say during a typical shift. I walked back inside and closed the door. - Suddenly it was quiet. There weren't that many people in the store. Frustration levels had fallen. The chaos had been calmed. - I slowly walked back behind the line, took a deep breath, smiled and said, "How are you miss? Can I start a beverage for you this morning?"
I will never, ever forget that day.
I will never, ever let anyone tell me different.