Be nice to your baristas

I work at a coffee shop now, if you didn’t know. It’s a very busy franchise coffee shop; it kind of runs us all off our feet. Now, I don’t drink coffee, and before this I’d never made coffee. The learning curve was steep. But here are some things that I’ve picked up over the last month that I want to share with you, our potential customers.

1. Your default is not necessarily our default. There’s a reason that certain things say “By request” on our menu board – skim milk, decaffeinated coffee, soya. It means you have to request them. The time to request them is when you are ordering. If the barista has time, she’ll confirm whether it’s skim milk or not (for example) as she’s making your drink. Usually we don’t have time. Please don’t ask, as we’re handing it over, whether or not it’s skim. Certainly don’t ask, as we’re handing it over, whether or not it’s skim when you haven’t mentioned skim before. We will remake your drink if you want us to. We will then bitch about you in the back room. To summarize: if you want one of our “by request” options, request it.

2. Most drinks cannot be made simultaneously. This is why the queue gets so long. It’s not even the espresso in most cases. It takes 25 seconds for a normal double shot of espresso and 35 seconds for a normal triple shot. The part that takes so long is the milk.

The following kinds of coffees/hot drinks cannot be made simultaneously: lattes, cappuccinos, Americanos, hot chocolate, flat whites. Drinks with skim milk, soya milk, and whole milk also cannot be made simultaneously. Each espresso machine has three drip slots, so we can’t make more than three drinks at a time. Our favourite orders are the ones with three or fewer identical drinks. Our least favourite orders are the ones with four or more different drinks.

If you come in with an order of two lattes, one with skim milk, a cappuccino, and a hot chocolate, your order will take longer simply because we can’t make any of those drinks at the same time. We’re working as fast as we can, but we are limited by the fact that we can’t make any of these drinks simultaneously.

3. If the details don’t matter, then don’t let the details matter. If there is a genuine reason to have us remake your drink, we will apologetically do so. Genuine reasons include making the wrong drink (i.e., a cappuccino instead of a latte) or using something which, for a medical reason, you can’t have (not making decaf, for example). Using the wrong milk (whole instead of skim), especially if you didn’t request skim at the till, is not necessarily a valid reason to have us remake your drink. Putting too much or too little flavoured syrups into the drink is definitely not a valid reason to have us remake your drink. (see below) We’ll remake it if you ask us to, of course. We will then bitch about you in the back room.

4. The person making your drinks doesn’t usually know that they are your drinks. Here’s what happened to me the other day: I had an order for two vanilla lattes and a something else (can’t remember, not important to the story). As I was making the vanilla lattes, one of the customers waiting asked, “Is that the vanilla latte? Can you add a bit more vanilla?” I hadn’t seen the order be taken, so it was reasonable for me to assume that this order was for this customer, so I added a bit more vanilla (maybe two pumps more). It wasn’t until she asked where her muffin was that I discovered that her vanilla lattes were actually at the other counter, and that the vanilla lattes I had made were for someone else. (Who then said, “there’s extra vanilla in that one? I only want the normal amount of vanilla.” And I had to remake the drink. Seriously, the amount of flavoured syrup is not a valid reason to remake a drink.)

5. If you’re sitting in, please sit at a table that doesn’t have dirty dishes on it. When we’re clearing tables, we look for tables that don’t have anyone at them, but do have dishes. If there are dishes on an occupied table, we assume that they are your drinks and sandwiches, and we’ll wait until you leave to clear them. If you do choose to sit at an uncleared table, don’t give us sarcastic looks if we do realise that the empty trays aren’t yours. It was your choice to sit at an uncleared table. I have never known there to be literally no empty tables. I have known customers who bring the empty trays up to the till, because “there was nowhere to sit” even though I can see at least two empty tables within sight of the one they chose to sit at. These are the people who annoy me.

6. Please don’t complain to us about the queue. We’re sorry, but there’s nothing we can do about it. We’re honestly going as fast as we can. As I said above, we’re limited by the drinks that can be made simultaneously. I know it’s not your fault that the person two in front of you has five different drinks to be made and three sandwiches to toast, but it’s not our fault either. As with the tables, you chose to wait in this line. There are other options. We appreciate your waiting and your custom, we’re sorry about the length of the queue (from 8:00 am or earlier until almost 7 pm, sometimes with a momentary lull around 3:30), but we honestly are working as fast as we can.

I am a nerd. This is not news.

So I have been embracing my nerdiness recently. I’m in a Doctor Who phase, for one thing. This is mostly sparked by Christmas and the Christmas special being so well-done. Also, when my boyfriend and I went Christmas shopping, we saw a figurine collection of all eleven doctors, with their signature accessories (usually the sonic screwdriver), and it was actually well-done. Not all eleven doctors looked like their portrayer, but let’s say 8 out of 11 did. Which is pretty good for plastic. I’ve also been listening to the audio plays from Big Finish. I also blame Christmas for this: they’re kind of perfect for long flights when there’s nothing good being shown on the actual airline TVs. I read a lot of the time as well, of course, but would turn on the Big Finish when I just wanted to phase out. Also, Tor.com did “The Twelve Days of the Doctor” over the Christmas season, which just fed the obsession.

The other day, while I was home alone (since my actual Full-Time Job didn’t start until today), I extended the obsession. I watched all of the regeneration scenes, for each of the Doctors. And after each regeneration scene, I watched the first scene or two (or three) with the new Doctor – enough to see him reintroduce himself to the companion(s) and the situation and establish himself as a personality. The only one I didn’t watch this time was Four into Five, because I’ve seen Castrovalva a few times, and the last time was just a couple of months ago. Oh, and I limited myself to the “classic” Doctors, because obviously I’ve seen the new regenerations and establishing scenes more than a few times. They’ve kind of imprinted on me.

It was really interesting to see how the actors, writers, and directors established the departure of each Doctor and the arrival of each new Doctor. There were a few similarities, but mostly they were individual. One into Two is, sadly, lost as a video. There are reconstructions (which I watched) but the quality was so bad, and my understanding of the plot was so bad, that I didn’t really get a lot of it. I would wish, if it were any use, that there were more Troughton bits available – I think I would like him as a Doctor. I’ll watch what I can, when I can, though.

Two into Three was the forced regeneration. It was interesting that the Time Lords gave the Doctor a choice of face for this one – even though Pertwee wasn’t one of the choices. I wonder, had Pertwee been cast at this point? Or did they just want to surprise people at the start of the next episode? Pertwee started off as you would expect a disgraced, exiled, regenerated Time Lord to act: secretive, angry, upset and disappointed. It didn’t help that the Brigadier didn’t recognize him, and then he almost got kidnapped and had to escape in a wheelchair with masking tape over his mouth. There was a touch of “crazy man” about him, but not as much as the next one.

Three into Four was tricky. Sarah Jane had no idea what to expect, the Brigadier was surprised but quickly resigned himself to it, and a helper from, I assume, previous episodes had to come and speed things along a bit. And then Tom Baker appeared and “crazy man” absolutely took over. He is so….I’m not sure what the right word is. It’s not manic, because he’s more laid back than that. It’s not “crazy” with the negative connotations. But he’s kind of amnesiac at first, and then he absolutely refuses anyone’s assistance, advice, or presence. He disappears into the Tardis, apparently about to abandon Sarah Jane and the Brigadier, when it’s like something clicks back into place. That smile appears, his eyes go happily wide instead of the alert and wary wide they’ve been so far, and he snaps into place. In one episode – not even one episode – you know exactly what his Doctor is going to be like, and the key word is going to be “unpredictable”. He won’t hesitate to tie someone up in a closet by his bootlaces; he also won’t hear of anyone putting themselves in danger for him. You’ll think he’s placid until he explodes into a fury of activity.

Four into Five is different again. As he regenerates, Four sees visions of all of his previous enemies and companions. He’s also been warned by the Watcher (a white-wrapped figure, theoretically the Doctor’s potential next self, I think?) that a regeneration is coming, so it’s not as violent a “death” as some of the others (Three was attacked by mutant spiders, if I recall…). And then Five comes along and takes over the role. There’s a touch of amnesia, as is becoming usual, but it’s more that Five doesn’t know who Five is rather than he doesn’t know who the Doctor is. He progresses through each of his previous personalities – and is spot-on in doing so – before establishing himself. It’s a nice touch of continuity in a show that is notoriously – and necessarily – bad with continuity.

And it couldn’t be more different than Five into Six. The regeneration itself is fairly standard – it helped that both Peter Davison and Colin Baker had blond hair – but the establishing scenes make a very definite statement: this is not the same Doctor. After watching that bit, I can absolutely see why Colin Baker had trouble in the role. I can absolutely see why many fans didn’t like him, and why the ratings dropped so precipitously. He comes in to this established and loved series and says, paraphrasing only slightly, “I am not the Doctor that you have known and loved. I reject everything that has come before me, and if you don’t like it, too bad.” He dismisses Peri’s affection for the Doctor, he literally rejects every costume that his predecessors wore and chooses something (a garish coat-of-many-colours) that they themselves would have rejected.

I don’t see this as even mostly Colin Baker’s fault. He’s been wonderful in the audio dramas. His Doctor, when given a chance, is not really that different from the other Doctors – he’s just less gentle on first acquaintance. But first acquaintance is all that some people will give you – and when you reject and abandon the aspects that drew them to you in the first place, they won’t stick around to find out what you’re really like. And, like I say, this isn’t Colin Baker’s fault. He didn’t write the lines – he just delivered them. And I would imagine that he was given some input on how to deliver them. It can’t have been entirely his idea to make the first appearance of the Doctor so inherently unlikable.

With all that, and the behind-the-scenes BBC drama, it’s no wonder that Colin Baker, the public face of the Doctor, was fired – or that he refused to film a regeneration scene. So Six to Seven is a bit different again. The regeneration happens fairly quickly – I don’t even know how much lead-up to it there was in the previous episode – and then Seven is thrown straight into the new situation. No amnesia, no character-establishing scenes where he’s picking out a costume or looking at his new face. He wakes up, he’s face to face with the Rani, and he’s just there, dealing with it, the end.

I’ll stop there for now. There’s still the movie and New Who to get through, plus reactions to the Christmas special and excitement about the new season, and the audio plays, and I’ve read a couple of the novelizations (and got one for Christmas, yay)… plus there’s the additional geekery of getting into World of Warcraft for the first time (hey, it gives me contact time with the boy) and Eternal Sonata and a couple of anime shows….

Yet more whining

I don’t understand what I am doing wrong. I don’t understand what is wrong with me that I can’t actually get jobs that I interview for. I am an intelligent person who presents herself well – or at least I try to – but for some reason they don’t want me. This is the second job this fall that I have interviewed for that has seemed perfect for me, and I haven’t gotten it. I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong!

Am I applying for the wrong jobs? Am I saying something wrong in the interview? Is it the American accent? What do I need to do differently?

I need a job. For financial reasons, I just need a job. For mental health reasons, I want a job that I can care about, but that doesn’t drain me to the point of tears every day (teaching). I want a job that I can throw myself into, that I can talk about passionately at parties. But at the very least, I want a job that doesn’t drain me to the point of tears every day. Apparently that is too much to ask for.

Annoyance and Entertainment

The most annoying thing about having my leg in a cast? (Other than, you know, the fact that my leg is in a cast?) Is wearing only one shoe. My poor left shoes are scattered and lonely around the house, forlorn and abandoned for at least another week and a half.

The other annoying thing? My walking boot for the cast is higher than any of my flats, but not high enough to justify any of my heels, even if I would wear only one heeled shoe (which I wouldn’t). I can deal with the bright blue clashing with all my clothes, because hey, I’m in a cast. But I have a harder time with the asymmetry of it. One shoe. One side that is lower than the other, even if it’s not by that much. It’s incredibly annoying.

I can deal with the questions. “Oh, no, what’d you do?” (stress fractures. Two of them. In my foot. I don’t know how, exactly, other than “walking”.) “How’s your leg?” (My foot, actually, and fine, other than frustrating because I’m in a cast.) “Are you okay doing that?” (Yes. I have a broken foot. I’m not a quadriplegic. Nothing against quadriplegics. And after more than a week – nearly two, now – in a cast, I’ve kind of gotten the hang of most things.)

If I do have to be in a cast, even for only a few weeks, I’m going to have fun with it, though. Because life should be all about keeping me entertained. My life should, at least. So I bought the multi-pack of coloured Sharpies and have been decorating my cast. This is good for a variety of reasons, not least because it distracts me from how yellow the thing is getting. I make – I mean, let – other people draw on it, too. My boyfriend drew an amazing desert island/rainbow scene that used every single one of the colours. I was very impressed. I think I’m going to start carrying the Sharpies around with me so that other people can draw on it too. It really should be more than just me and my boyfriend.

I’m really hoping that it comes off when it’s time to go back to the doctor, though. I have plans that do not involve being forced to limp and keeping my ankle immobile. Entertaining as I try to make it, I’m still in a cast. And it’s still annoying.

Race for Life

There are a lot of differences between the UK’s cancer research fundraiser Race for Life, and the US cancer research fundraiser Relay for Life. Relay for Life is based on time, and you’re generally sponsored a certain amount for a time or a distance walked. Race for Life is a 5K (although some places have 10K events as well), and most of my sponsorship came straight in, not contingent on anything else. Relay for Life is also open to anyone – my family usually does it as a team event, and trade off shifts to walk. Race for Life is a women-only fundraiser, which I find both awesome and disturbingly sexist.

I participated in Race for Life in Nottingham this last weekend. My fundraising page is still up for a few weeks, if you want to donate. (www.raceforlifesponsorme.org/rachelandkendra) My friend Rachel pulled in a couple of her other friends, and together we were Team Pink.

Race for Life is a very pink thing. Pink has become the traditional colour for breast cancer support, and because it’s women-only, there was an awful lot of pink around. We helped contribute to the pink atmosphere by wearing pink wigs, pink headbands with either pink mouse ears or pink devil horns on them, pink shirts, pink leg warmers, pink face paint, pink grease paint on our arms, and pink spray-on glitter (which you couldn’t really see, but we knew it was there). It was so very pink, and we weren’t even the most pink team on the track.

I’d had big plans, when Rachel and I signed up in January, to actually get into the habit of running and be able to run the 5K without stopping. That didn’t happen. I started training pretty well – more consistently when it started getting warmer – but my ankles started hurting, and I lost my ankle supports, so I stopped until I could get more. Then, the week before the race, I did something to my foot – possibly exacerbated by the too-small shoes I accidentally wore one day – that made it very painful to walk. It’s something that’s happened before, and I still don’t know what it is other than “painful”. So when the race came around, I didn’t run more than about five minutes at a stretch (although, for whatever reason, running was actually easier on my foot than walking. But still – ouch). My goal is to be able to run 5K by next year’s race, whether I participate or not. This does, of course, depend on my feet not being stupid and injury-prone, however.

Our team name got a slight alteration when the day of the race came. It started raining Saturday night, with proper thunder and lightning and everything else that makes me slightly homesick for the Midwest. Sunday morning, it poured (and there were a few cracks of lightning). It rained, and rained, and rained. The sheets of water that came up from the bus I was on to get to the race went almost as high as the bus itself. The sweatshirt I was wearing was drenched by the time I got to the place where we were getting ready. My socks stayed wet until I got home several hours later and peeled them off. Given all the rain, we renamed ourselves Team Pink Drowned Rats.

But the rain stopped about an hour before the race started, and by the time we were actually going, it was bright, warm, and incredibly humid. I think by the end our faces were just as pink as our wigs.

It was interesting that we were one of the tamer groups racing. There were quite a lot of wigs – pink or otherwise. There were babies in pushchairs, puppies wearing pink boas and Race for Life signs, printed T-shirts with pictures and race numbers on them. But the best were the costumes. Three rabbits with “Durawell” batteries, and, the best thing, SpongeBob and Patrick. I was warm enough in jogging trousers and a T-shirt; I can’t even imagine how hot it got inside a giant SpongeBob.

About 5000 people participated, they said. Plenty of people ran, even more walked. There was an aerobic warmup at the beginning, including a performance by the Nivea Boys (Nivea is a sponsor of Race for Life) where they sang and danced to one of the cheesiest songs that was out when I lived in England as an undergrad. (DON’T STOP MOVING!!!! WOOOO S CLUB 7!!!!) I laughed hysterically for about thirty seconds, and then started dancing along. Because you have to, when you hear a song that brings up those kinds of memories.

At the end, everyone got a medal and a carrier bag with stuff – a breakfast bar, a bottle of water, some Nivea products, and entries to various contests. I haven’t really looked through it in depth yet. After the race, I went home with my wonderful housemates who’d come to support me, and we all just collapsed on the couch and watched movies for the rest of the day. But the reason that they were also exhausted is another story…..

I’m glad I participated in Race for Life. I wish things had gone differently: I wish I hadn’t hurt my foot, I wish I could have run the whole 5K, I wish I had been more active (and potentially annoying) about raising money. But every little bit counts, and I’m glad to be the European branch of my family’s cancer research fundraising.

Hoarding Minutiae

I am a packrat. A hoarder. A collector. Whatever you want to call it. I make excuses like “it’s genetic” (my grandparents all kept everything “in case it was useful someday”, almost to the point of pathology), “but what if I will want it eventually” and “nostalgia” and in the meantime, books and papers and …..well, mostly books pile up around me.

And right now my mom and my uncles are sorting through my grandfather’s house, and his lifetime of hoarding and saving everything that came through the door. It’s a daunting task, and a stressful one, and a sad one. How do you balance the longing to acknowledge the past with the desire to lead a simple(ish) life yourself, and the space limitations of modern middle-class living?

It’s made even more difficult, emotionally, by the fact that my family has not just a lengthy history, but a strong sense of history. We are all well aware that sometimes the most innocuous-looking things can turn out to be important. I just read a biography of a Tudor woman where most of the information for her life comes from household accounts. But, really, once the account books aren’t of any use for tax purposes or something similar, who wants to keep them around? But they are historically one of the best sources we have for daily life one or two or five hundred years ago.

We want to keep the important things, but how do we know what the important things are? What’s important now may not be important in one or two or five hundred years. And while there is an argument to be made about the cultural knowledge that comes from shifting priorities, I also can’t help but wish that more minutiae survived.

This is one reason that I’m so excited that the Library of Congress has the entire public Twitter archive now. Past Tweets may not be of huge significance (although some are, either culturally or personally), but the collection of cultural minutiae has the potential to be fascinating not only for current sociologists, linguists, and anthropologists, but for future historians as well. I just wish it were so easy to save and store the physical collections of minutiae as well.

(Apparently I really like the word "minutiae"...)

Ponderings

I just started reading Bess of Hardwick by Mary S. Lovell. It’s been on my TBR list for literally years, and last year I picked up a copy at Oxfam, and now I’m finally getting to it.

One problem I have, as a confirmed book addict, is that everything I read makes me want to read more. Reading Blink, which I finished this afternoon, made me want to read The Tipping Point and other sociological/psychological things. But Bess is insidious. Even after just reading the introduction, I want to read a ton of stuff.

None of it’s really related to the Tudors, though – they’re a little bit out of my period. No, what the introduction to Bess did is make me want to get back to my own research: music in Middle English literature. I have over 200 articles and many, many poems saved on their own hard drive, just waiting for my attention. And they’re always at the back of my mind, but what the introduction to Bess has done is bring them to the front.

Blink aided and abetted this as well, with all its talk of experts being able to hone their snap judgment ability. I found myself wanting to be an expert in something – and what am I an expert in? Middle English poetry and its connection to music. I also had lunch today with a PhD-student friend of mine, and that helped the motivation as well.

I have been telling myself that I will keep collecting and reading articles and poems (thank goodness for TEAMS) so that when I am financially able to do a PhD, I won’t be completely out of the loop. Maybe it’s time that I make a dedicated study plan and actually do it.