This past weekend, I went home for a friend's wedding. Monica is the kind of person who befriends everyone (and I do mean EVERYONE) she encounters. I met her two years ago, when I was working my first barista job in Kansas City. Monica was one of the dozens of people I saw five or more times a week, because America pretty much runs on caffeine and pastry items (and that is not an exaggeration). And here is the thing. From a barista's standpoint, those customers, most of whom I only spoke to about lattes or scones, became a second family. I looked forward to seeing Americano Terry every afternoon around three. I noticed when Jim and Jenny didn't bring their daughter Isla in for hot chocolate on a Saturday morning.
The heartbeat of coffee shop culture is community. Even the guy on his laptop with his earmuff-sized headphones on wants community. If he didn't, he would be at home. I think the appeal stems from a desire to be known. Our sensitive little human hearts want nothing more than to be treasured and noticed and recognized. It's why we pursue relationships, why we network, why we spend hours on social media. It's why coffee shops are a thing. Because we need a place to cuddle up to a cup of Ethiopia Yirgacheffe and share about life with friends. Beyond that, though, coffee shops are also places where community is built almost accidentally. It's a weird combination of routine and smiling and the smell of coffee, and entering into a space with an expectation for the unexpected. There is a possibility you will sit in your favorite chair for two hours and no one will speak to you. But, there is also the chance of an encounter that will enhance your day/week/life in a completely surprising way.
I've worked at three different shops now, and the only consistency across the board is that community. Friends who become customers and customers who become friends. Coworkers who become the people you make breakfast with on Mondays, or with whom you fall in love. So many layers of friendship and community and life, ya know? The best way to describe it, I think, is to break it down. Study each combination, both behind the bar and in front it, that makes a coffee shop community special. Even that won't do it justice, but it might start to.
Barista-Barista: Nothing bonds a group of people faster than working behind a bar together, 40 hours a week. I am almost 100% sure I'm am not over-stating that fact. There is a special kind of camaraderie that is built on hours spent washing dishes, and dialing in espresso, and dealing with "Can I get a six-shot decaf latte, please?" And the walls of social normality are never less fragile than at 5:30 in the morning, when everyone is still half-asleep and absolutely filter-less. Maybe I'm just lucky, but some of my dearest friends were coworkers first. And even the coworkers with whom I never became #BFFs still felt like family. Because that's kind of just how it is, when you're steaming milk and waking up way too early together.
Customer-Customer: Coffee shops run on people who want to hang out with each other. Meet someone at a concert? Let's go get coffee. Need to tell your best friend about your ex? Let's go get coffee. I spend the vast majority of my social hours drinking coffee with people. And you probably do, too. It feels good, to get out of the house and be with humanity. But it's also kind of like sitting in your living room because sometimes there's a comfy couch. If a coffee shop is a good one, there is a cozy feeling that makes conversation happen in the best way. And, sometimes, not just with a person you know. Sometimes you stumble into a life chat with a total stranger. It's not even awkward, it's just a really good thing.
Barista-Customer: Every barista knows the root of their job is service. And not just "do you want fries with that?" service, but the kind of service that is synonymous with hospitality. I have yet to meet a barista who doesn't genuinely love people. Even the surliest punk I ever worked with, secretly liked the people he complained about daily. I could tell because one time he gave this kid free hot chocolate because the little dude miscounted the meager change he thought he had. 75% of the fun of my job is customer interaction. I love having conversations at the register that would never happen otherwise. It is a special thing to know what Johnny thinks about the new Colombia, and that he painted his master bath steel gray last weekend. Or that Glen met a lady on the internet and they went to the symphony together.
Customer-Barista: Not, in fact, the same as Barista-Customer. The dynamic is different from the other side of the bar, because you as the customer are being welcomed into something. It's cozy to walk into a coffee shop and have someone behind the counter smile not because they have to, but because they know you (Like, seriously, the sweetest thing in the world to experience). I babysat my barista's baby last Saturday afternoon, because we're on that level. Because she took time to connect and do more than the bare bones of her job. And also because I told her I was obsessed with her baby, and she didn't think it was weird. Bless her. And then there are the Monicas. People who love on their baristas, and make them cookies, and make an 8-hour shift a little bit easier just by showing up. If you are a regular at a coffee shop, chances are you are talked about and adored by the staff. Because you feel like our family, too.
And that is the beauty of coffee shops. Little moments of connection that make a day brighter. Sure, coffee is the thing that draws this community together. But then it becomes Denim Dress Twin Tuesday with Ashley, or talking for hours about music or "I see you all the time in here, my name is Rachel". And suddenly, somehow, a coffee shop feels like coming home.
On my drive back to Nashville, I stopped at my favorite Kansas City spot and saw Jim and Jenny and little Isla. We all knew we recognized each other, but it took a minute to figure out why. Then there was this mutual moment of "OHHH, The Roasterie!" And we spent a few minutes catching up on life. I drove away with the warmest feeling, because that is the reason I love what I do. Because being a barista is an opportunity to build and sustain community in the most beautiful way: by loving on people in the act of serving them, and being a part of their daily life, even if just for the time it takes to steam a pitcher of milk.
(In case anyone was wondering, yes I did write this post at my favorite coffee shop. Cheers.)
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