I live in what could be called the Land of Coffee. I'm in Western Washington, near Seattle, which is home of the world famous Starbucks Coffee, among other coffee companies. The Seattle area is so greatly associated with coffee-loving that, when I was in Atlanta, Georgia, during the 1996 Summer Olympics, I was given a job as an espresso barista based only on the assumption that all Washingtonians MUST know how to make a great latte. I never misled the job agency employing me that I had this prior experience, it certainly wasn't posted on my resume. I think that it was just assumed that anyone from the Pacific Northwest would be knowledgeable about coffee, whether this be due to nature or to nurture.
In fact, I honestly I didn't have a clue how to make a latte at that time. I received some on-the-job training there that summer in Atlanta, but until then, I'd never worked at an espresso stand. I had never even brewed a regular pot of coffee before. Most comical of all, at that time in my life, I wasn't even a coffee drinker! Picture this scene: I'm working an espresso machine for the first time. I scramble to make the drinks. I try to be friendly, even bubbly, although it isn't easy. I'm busy and stressed, and I really don't feel very friendly or bubbly. Since it seems like it's the bubbly baristas who get the best tips, I try to act in a fraudulently cheerful way. Unfortunately, I'm not too successful.
The tips that I receive are terrible. This is especially true when you compare them with the tips of other baristas who are working stands in nearby areas. My stand brings in the same sort of profits as theirs, but they are all receiving a lot more tips each day than I am. I start to think that what I needed was to be more alert, even hyper. If I'm in a really peppy mood, I figured that I'd work faster and better, and it would also be easier to be more cheerful. Then, one day, I came to believe that I had discovered the solution to faking happiness. I thought that the answer had been right there in front of me the whole time.
The solution was coffee. Coffee. . . coffee. . . coffee. . . Coffee is good. . . Coffee is a stimulant. . . Coffee doesn't actually make me more friendly, but coffee does make me more bouncy. . . Hey! See Kami make coffee. See Kami drink coffee. See Kami go bouncy, bouncy, bouncy. Bounce. . . bounce. . . bounce. . . Bouncing all the way up to the ceiling, or so it seemed to me.
Suddenly, my plan backfires. Oops! Ugh! Oh, dear! Too much coffee, too soon! Way, way, wayyyyy too much coffee! My head is flying. My brain is spinning. My hands are shaking. . . shaking. . . shaking. They're shaking so much that it's hard not to spill the milk that I'm pouring; the milk that I need to steam for all those the lattes and cappuccinos . . . Then, the worst feeling comes. Too much coffee has made me sick to my stomach. Ooooohhh! I believe that this is a case of too much of a good thing.
When I was in college, which was before my summer in Atlanta, I didn't even like the taste of coffee. I wasn't a big drinker of any type of caffeinated beverage. In fact, I could amazingly pull an all night study session caffeine-free! That's an almost unimaginable concept to me now.
Those days of being a either a novice or non-coffee drinker are long gone. I now drink it on a daily basis. Occasionally, if I sleep in late and/or don't drink coffee until late morning, or if I drink much less coffee than I normally do in a day, my head will start to ache. These caffeine withdrawal headaches are no fun, and, of course, I'm not happy when I get them. Yet, they are also a reality check.
With my head pounding, I am forced to confront the reality that I am hooked on coffee. I'm not just enjoying a beverage every day. I must admit that my body craves it. I must accept that fact that I have withdrawal symptoms when I've drank less than my usual quantity of coffee. I must confess that I am a coffee addict.
Sometimes, this idea that I'm a coffee addict really bugs me. When this happens, I usually try to cut back on coffee for a while. Despite the threat of possible withdrawal systems, I'll begin to have one less cup every morning. I might successfully do this for a couple of days, or, perhaps, for a week or two, until along comes that one day. You might know what kind of day that would be. We all have them sometimes. It's a day when I haven't slept well the night before, and I'm feeling extra tired. I need to get some work done with a clear head, so I decide that what I need to do is drink that extra cup of coffee again. I won't do it all the time. Just today. Just when I need it most. It never works the way I intend, of course. Almost immediately, that one extra cup is back in my life everyday. I can't even count how often that I've done this.
Although, to be completely honest, what I described above, is not what I do most of the time. On most days, I continue along my path of coffee addiction without any interruption at all. Why is this, you might ask? It's because I love coffee. I gratefully bless the abundance of espresso stands in the Pacific Northwest, and I blissfully sip steaming cups. After all, I am a coffee addict, and that is what we do.
Until I type again,
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