Lattes became the rage in the 1990s and I landed a job as a barista in a beautiful plant nursery outside Seattle. I loved the job on many different levels. Flexible hours allowed me to spend time with my son when he came home from school. It also offered me the opportunity to meet all kinds of people. I loved the perk of free lattes (all I could drink). The nursery ambience of colorful flowers and classical music made the job a delight.
Each customer had a different requirement for their coffee drink. I had requests for lots of milky foam and others didn’t want to see a speck of froth. Some asked for ice in their coffee and others asked for their latte to boil, specifying “hotter than Hades.” Of course, we didn’t have gauges on our machine stating, “cool as heaven” and “hotter than Hades”—but I tried to oblige. Customers ordered extra syrup and others wanted just a “hint” of syrup, placing their forefinger and thumb together as they said “hinnnn-ttt.” I remember one customer made a stab at poetry in her order and asked for a “whisper of vanilla.” read more