Employees Must Wash Hands Before Returning to Work

I think that most people reading this know that I'm looking for a job in publishing. And many people know that I've been babysitting for about the past month for an MIT professor whose husband now works five days a week in New York. And before today, only a few select people knew about my new job, the one that will allow me to not be homeless during the publishing-job search.

The new job is at Starbucks. I am now officially a barista. About halfway through my interview, the store manager said, "I think you'll really fit in well here. The girls are all so nice, always singing and chatting and dancing. " I wasn't sure if this meant I was being offered the job. Then she said, "I'm not sure what the training schedule is going to look like, so I'll call you Monday and let you know. " Let me know whether I'm hired? Or let me know when training will be? These were both questions I did not ask at the time. "Okay!" I said.

On Monday she called me and told me to come in to the Broadway Market store on Friday with photo ID and wearing dress code. Still, no one said the words "hired" or "congratulations" or "welcome to the team." It wasn't very likely that she'd want me to bring a passport just to verify my identity for a second interview, but it was still possible, in my mind. I'm used to celebrating over a phone interview, let alone a request for a second meeting, so this all seemed too easy.

But it was true. I came to the store yesterday and filled out lots of forms, probably incorrectly, so next year I will have a tax return from a lower circle of hell than what I usually face. But I was definitely hired.

I had believed the manager's statement about the girls being nice, but I didn't actually expect it to be illustrated down to the details at the moment I walked in the store; when I got there, two of the four baristas (baristettes?) were dancing in place and singing along to the store soundtrack, while somehow also managing to talk animatedly to the other two. Two of the girls were wearing glasses. One of the girls was Barb Urbanczyk.

I worked with Barb two years ago at Let's Go, and then she was the receptionist for a while, but I hadn't talked to her in at least a few months, so it was strange and exciting to find out that we're co-workers again. She offered me a (free!) drink, and gave me the (free!) advice of making sure to arrive at shifts on time or early, because your lateness makes life much harder for everyone else. This made sense.

I got to grind 5lbs of coffee beans and measure it out into filters for brewing later. It was much more fun than grinding and measuring should reasonably be, but it was (A) a new experience and (B) delicious-smelling. Then I got a tour of the store, backroom, and dangerously low-ceilinged bathroom. In the latter was a sign that I didn't consciously notice at first glance, because at this point in life, my brain doesn't bother to process things it's really used to, like signs that say "Employees Must Wash Hands Before Returning to Work." I did notice it this time because it actually said "Employee's Must Wash Hands Before Returning to Work." I actually thought, for about a second and a half, of finding some white out or paint to get rid of the apostrophe, but then decided that it's not worth it to try to edit everything I see in reality, instead of just in my mind.

But instead of moving on from that thought to fond memories of the time Sameer peeled off and corrected the accent on a label of "mas mild" salsa at a Rubio's in San Diego, I thought about how weird it is to see that kind of sign and have it actually apply to me. I always do wash my hands, but now I must do it, because I'm an employee. Come visit me at work!