My First Barista Job

Dear reader,

I will be honest, it was my never intention to actually be a barista when I first started my job in a place that I will not utter the name off, partly because of privacy and partly because I am no longer working there and I have some bitter feelings towards the management. I am a human at the end of the day.

I have been working there since September of 2024, so it is a good six months. I started as a runner. For those who does not know what a runner is do not worry please, I also did not know until I became one. A runner, in simple terms, is the person that literally run after the waiter/waitress. They clean the tables, they get them ready for the next customer, host people, and more importantly make sure everything is in the perfect way to make the life of the waiter/waitress easier.

Fast forward to a two months ago, I told my manager that I was interested in being a barista and the baristas who were already working there also noticed my desire to be one and gave me little orders to make sure that I can handle the work load of a barista. I could, as it turned out. After a while, as the café I had been working some time now, was looking for a new barista, that is when they suggested me, as I was already familiar with the café and now how to make the orders right.

First day as a barista

I had taken the burden of the morning shifts on Monday and Sunday starting at 9 AM. It gave me such joy that I was not expecting. The feeling of opening a café in the morning was, how can I even put in the words, comforting. Everyone was at work, a few people coming in to take their morning coffee right before entering the chaos of their own lives, and I was the one to give them a cup of joy, their last minutes of relaxation before they go on to their days. I could smell the fresh bread, and people watch few that were to decide to sit down while reading their newspapers and sipping their coffees as they had no job to attend, at least that was my imagination.

I was not the best when I first started, I should admit with my humblest feelings dear reader.

I mean… is this suppose to be a, what? I even do not know. I am confuse as much as you are at this point. However, with my deepest feelings I have to admit and seek for forgiveness, I was very much proud of this, whatever it was. I thought of it as a flower, some kind.

My smile reached my ears both side and kept there for a minute. I remember running to my manager, at the time, and show her my great accomplishment, the flower-ish latte art that I poured my heart to make at that time.

As most humans, however, with time I had the opportunity to improve my art with milk. It was a delicate subject to pay attention beginning as you were steaming the milk. The degree you put the steamer even mattered and the minute it get too hot to handle, was the moment you had to comprehend to have the smooth milk steam to have your latte art without encountering any obstacles. I learned that bubbles were my biggest enemy as I was steaming, on the other hand I had to have enough foam that would look kind of a fluffy cloud with the smoothness of an evening sea. When you were to swirl the cup of the milk steamer, it should create the illusion of a white sheet, newly washed and ready to be slept in… I watched videos and even read some articles that was shot and written by world barista champions around the world, and put my knowledge to coffee as I was working.

Told you my dear reader it is better. Sure it is not the best. I am pretty sure there is always room for improvement but it was only give or take three days. I felt even more joy than the first flower-ish art that I had created.

This one had a first layer that gives the impression it hugs the two hearts that one of them in another. Like soulmates, I assume. It is lovely.

I had to leave my beloved barista job because of some conflicts with the new manager, and decided to realize it was an environment that does not give enough credit for employees. I loved my job dearly, I still miss the coffee smell and people watching hurrying their jobs in the morning, shortly stopping for a coffee, a break of happiness from my kitchen of brewer. On the other hand, my pay was not stable and the pay checks delivered late, two weeks, gave me hard time to pay my rent. It was not a one time thing that happened and I could pass to move on but rather a continues way of the corporation worked. Therefore, I made my mind to leave and did so.

At the end of the day, still I like to have a cup that I prepared in the morning whenever I wake up early, and it is much not happening… I brew my coffee with now a machine but instant coffee works for me now, a little downgrade I should endure until have enough money to spend on a small machine, and even maybe start my own house-café business… Who knows.