The Insidious Soul-Sucking Power of Starbucks

(listening to Ben Folds Five)

When I allow myself to think about it too much, and this happened yesterday morning after work, Starbucks is more horrible to me than ever. I spent seven years working in very busy stores in San Diego. I couldn't decide what I wanted to do, and I am addicted to routine and predictability. I wasn't happy, but it paid the bills, and I earned the respect of coworkers and patrons. It was hard work being in retail management - always problems to solve, plenty of day to day work that needs to be done well in order to keep a store running properly. Lots of babysitting of employees. I found it to be a taxing strife, less taxing than being a doctor in an ER, but pretty much devoid of fulfillment.

Here in Cary, at a slower store, even without the burdens of authority, I find myself fighting back tears after a four hour shift. I worked nothing less than eight-hour shifts back in the day. It is such a micromanaged, corporate, unhappy work environment that I look back on UPS in a different light. I don't regret quitting Big Brown, but it didn't have these high-talking notions of respect and dignity in the workplace. Starbucks has all sorts of cute mission statements. When the chips are on the table, however, the employees don't have any chips. We serve the drinks, like the kid that Joe Pesci shot in the foot in Good Fellas. I used to at least take pride in my abilities to give good service to customers, but now I'm stuck on the register most of the time. Some dipshit make the drink, poorly and slowly. There's a whole bunch of us bumping into each other behind the counter, and the line moves slowly. At other times of the day, there might be only two of us, and a bunch of customers come wandering in as if someone tipped over a cageful of idiots.

In brief, the store is poorly run. I could do better, or at least a customer would think so. I have this arcane belief that customers are at least loosely associated with the success of a retail business. I also believe that they come in for something other than fake platitudes, marketing and often-scrubbed baseboards. I guess I'm nuts. Everything is clean, though. This is because we have an encyclopedic checklist of tasks to do every day. Most of these involve cleaning things which are already clean. Other things we do are prepare trays of samples of sickly sweet drinks to offer to customers. Never mind the fact that they don't want a sample of some foo-foo shit. They came in for the drink they always come in for, at the same time every day. In San Diego, we realized this. We gave people what they wanted, quickly and accurately. We didn't try to sell them a bunch of shit they didn't come in for. Of course, we were told to, but I didn't bother to do it. And still we made more money per store than this little backwater I work in now. Basically, employees are not supposed to think for themselves. The job pays poorly; I guess they have to lower the requirements to the meanest understanding. They expect a lot of work for a few bucks, though.

I'm rambling. I liken this store to chemotherapy. It's invisible, but it destroys me. I'm weakened and sick. I'm having trouble remembering when I enjoyed work. I apply for jobs, but I can't seem to shake the belief that no one will ever hire me, I'm not good at anything, and I will never be excited about anything again. Nearly all the jobs I see are shitty jobs that would just make me unhappier anyway (plus the indignity of starting at the bottom). It's depressing. I'm honestly at a loss to think of anything that I have that is worth a salary. I was elated after I quit UPS, but a malaise has set in. My shitty job and my miserable lack of income removes the savor from my meat and wine, and it dulls the sunshine. Lindsey is in need of a vacation; she's been working hard at her job. We can't really get away to do anything because my lame ass doesn't make any money. In past times I never used to feel an ungovernable urge to drink at 9 in the morning, which is precisely what I'm doing now.

I believe, ladies and gentlemen, that I have now written the shittiest post in this blog. Ugh.