One Of The Best (But Lowest Paying) Jobs I Ever Had
When I was going to university, one of my part-time jobs was at a coffee shop. In its prime, this place was a super-hip two-level joint with a licensed bar, live music, art on the walls, and a very mixed crowd of downtownies from early morning to late night.
I worked there during its decline and eventual demise, but I remembered the good ol' days and tried to keep some of that spirit alive.
There are a few things that made this a great place to work, despite being past the glory years:
Autonomy: The owner didn't care about the place, which was certainly bad for business, but made for the perfect environment for me. I cared about what it represented for me, so it was easy for me to care about doing well. I didn't need some horrible boss making my life worse, and I really didn't have one. The guy who hired me quit two weeks later, so I just took control. I hired a small staff, made up a schedule, kept things stocked, clean, and running, coordinated with local artists and events organizers, etc., etc. It became my mission to bring this place back to life.
Clientele: The variety of people who came in regularly kept it interesting. I can still remember the older woman and her elderly mother who came in once a week, always got the same order, sat at the same table, and often asked me to turn down the music (if I didn't get to it as soon as they came in). Or the guy around my age who would come in two or three times a month before work and ordered his own recipe of 1oz caramel syrup, 1oz vanilla syrup, 1oz hazelnut syrup, 2 double espresso shots, and steamed chocolate milk to top it off. There were local artists, occasional touring bands - thanks to the nearby hotel where the bigger names tended to stay (fun fact: I served coffee to the Rolling Stones'... ahem... crew), large darks and loads of weirdos of all walks. My kind of people.
Excellent coffee (free for employees): This place had the best coffee in town, by a longshot. This was before the modern hipster soccer parent-infested coffee joints had started popping up all over the place, selling overpriced cups of inexperienced brews of old, stale beans that were imported famous brands from the States. The coffee here was roasted locally and ground and brewed fresh, in house. It was excellent. I could scarcely find an equal cup in other, larger cities.
The baking and the baker: Bruno was a grumpy old Swiss man who worked for the coffee shop and the adjacent restaurant owned by the same guy. When I came in at 6:30 to get ready to open at 7:00, Bruno had already baked a fresh batch of city-famous cinnamon buns, a variety of muffins, and, depending on the day, made soup or chili, quiche, cheesecake, biscotti, and a variety of other treats. Yeah, every coffee joint has baking, but everything Bruno made was excellent. I'd often use my meager earnings to buy up some cinnamon buns and muffins and take them (by city bus) to the university to distribute to pals and profs. Bruno was such a curmudgeon. Usually, he was just grumpy, but sometimes he was outright mad - maybe at someone who had come by the shop, or may something he'd read in the paper. One day I accidentally introduced him as Swedish. He shouted obscenities and didn't talk to me for two weeks afterward (something I'd witnessed him do to others). But sometimes he'd also see me struggle after a long night, and he'd quietly make me fresh porridge with canned fruit and real cream.
This shop was around for 15+ years, previously under different ownership, when it thrived, but the tides had changed and a combo of neglect and competition brought the place to a permanent close. My efforts were too late to make an impact.
It's been ages since then, but I still think of the place often. Not to mention, my current corporate gig is half a block away from there. I walk right by it all the time. It's an off-sale liquor store now.
Luckily, a few very good alternatives popped up in the years after it closed, but nothing has the character that place had.
To this day, I offer to make people fancy pour over coffee at my office job and make people lattes at home. There were even times I seriously considered opening up my own coffee house. Guess I'm still trying to recreate the good ol' days.
Photo by Ioann-Mark Kuznietsov on Unsplash