'Caffeine Rush' - The story of a day's work at The GenericWidelyRecognisedCoffeeShop - Chapter One.

I've just necked two strong but sweet instant-highquality-microground-rather-than-freezedried coffees. This is an attempt to shift the blur from my vision, take the ache from my ears, and encourage my limbs to function anything but lethargically.

I'm off to a shift at The GenericWidelyRecognisedCoffeeShop today (apparently I'll get into trouble if I use their official name, despite being a 'family member'. You'll most likely have grabbed a cappuccino from 'us' at some point, or something fancy like an iceblendedcoffeebasedrinkwithaddedsyrup,creamand/orother).
Work is situated in the middle of the Bull Ring, Birmingham. It is rarely an explicitly jolly affair.

I usually get obscenely rammed shifts over every weekend, or, like on Thursday, ridiculously busy opens - such as on Thursday, 4th November, for the absurdly early (but still exciting) launch of Christmas and all things red, festive, merry, over-indulgent and over-priced.

JOY TO US ALL! (BARISTAS ESPECIALLY.)

I don't have enough time to get into a proper rant, or decide whether The GenericWidelyRecognisedCoffeeShop organisation I work for even deserves one. Probably, though I do LOVE my job. I really genuinely enjoy steaming milk, pouring coffees, toasting paninis an generally making people's day. The job satisfaction, and added employee perks, can be great - and it's always fun to get into a heated discussion over a mug of instant about whether my employers are evil or not (THEY ARE NOT, FUCK OFF).

But, I can't help feeling that I'd much rather spend my day in the library, listening to Camera Obscura in my headphones, than serve the likes of Birmingham's punters - the kind of delightful people who (for example) think it's super-clever to wait 18 minutes in a queue for a coffee, to then not know what they want, reject all polite and helpful suggestion, then complain after another 8 minutes until their coffee is served to then complain a good 6 minutes later that it's not hot enough, then to claim that the industrial standard thermometer I've just put in it is broken, and the evidently scalding beverage they've wasted so much of their time purchasing, is tepid.
Rant over. Just don't be that guy. You're likely to find all sorts of things in your skimmed-milk mocha with extra mocha and half-caff espresso... (not that I, or any other barista, is morally capable of doing such a thing - just don't be that prick.).


Anyway, I'll be late if I don't get goin'. Time to get festive, efficient and remotely pleasant to be around - though if the ticket machine at Selly Oak train station is broken again, or taken up by RETARDED students consumed by Jack Wills and fake tan, I would advise against coming to visit me at work today. Not that any of you give a shit, it's pretty much impossibly to give away free coffees or even discount. Soz bbz.
Text me for a stiff drink afters though, I am 99% sure I'm going to need it.


So, please enjoy your drink! And have a nice day, now!