How good it is to work in a coffee shop! Inhale the aromas of cinnamon, vanilla and other spices. Prepare aromatic coffee for visitors and draw hearts in each mug. Make every morning a little more cheerful, give people joy and receive smiles in return. So I thought, submitting my resume in response to a vacancy.
But the reality turned out to be much worse than I thought.
Start of internship
My joy knew no bounds when I received an invitation for an interview. I passed all the tests and graduated with the highest result. I was eager to get down to real work. Several black polo shirts and new shoes were waiting in the wings. The coffee shop to which I was assigned was located in one of the largest shopping centers in Moscow.
The first day in a new place was more difficult than I imagined. In the coffee shop, I was loaded with physical work. But as friends told me, this is standard practice for novice baristas. I looked to the future with optimism and believed in my strength.
In the early days, I was taught how to arrange goods on the showcase, receive goods from movers, work with the cash register, rearrange the timer and many other interesting things. The manager seemed to me a strict lady.
But I was sure that I could join the team.
The situation is heating up
By the end of the first week, I noticed that something strange was happening. I was a diligent student. But the number of comments did not decrease, but, on the contrary, increased. I began to suspect that I was being treated unfairly. And to meet all the requirements without the possession of telepathy will not work.
- Any of my actions was mercilessly criticized. Requirements were often conflicting
- I worked on the script: "Be friendlier with customers, communicate with them."
- I talked to the lady from the queue: "We must not chat, but work."
- On the way to the table, because of which guests have just got up: "Well, you have a pigsty."
- I came up to clear the table in advance: "Do not stand above the soul of the guests."
- And every day dozens of similar situations... And one day I learned that the floor needs to be washed only from left to right, and right to left is taboo.
The situation was complicated by my daily tardiness. But otherwise I could not. I lived in the suburbs and left home at 5 am to catch the first minibus and be at work by 7:10. But the working day started at 7:00. And every day I was reprimanded for being late. "All other staff are on time." But all the other employees lived in Moscow. And I physically could not come earlier. So much for your "free schedule".
Deeper and deeper to the bottom
One day, I discovered that someone had dotted my white jacket with a black mug marker. I cried a lot after work that night. For the spoiled jacket flew in from my parents. Then I was just starting to work, and I had little pocket money, so they bought the jacket. The reproaches were unfair, I didn't ruin her. So why did they scold me and not the one who painted.
The second unpleasant incident occurred on the shift. There was a girl in the team who was fond of esotericism and read her hand. I also became curious, I asked her to tell fortunes. She said that "such a pattern is on the palm of people with mental retardation." I pulled my hand away and told her to shut up. The mood was ruined, and even the spicy smell of cinnamon could not save him.
The more nervous I became at work, the worse it got. I have such a feature that I start to confuse syllables when I am very worried. And I was constantly worried. Clients received from me "espresso" and "tea with hippo" (bergamot). These spontaneous slips of the tongue sparked a new wave of ridicule.
Why didn't I leave on my own? The desire not to give up and not give up the dream played a cruel joke on me. I was too young and never faced bullying before. Somewhere in my heart, I continued to believe that in time everything would work out.
Dismissal
I held out until one day. Until at lunchtime I saw the missed one on my phone. I called back and found out very sad news for myself. And then I broke down and burst into tears. I tried steadfastly to keep my face all the time I worked in the coffee shop. But on this day, my nerves just passed.
When I came back from lunch, all in tears, the shift leader told me to go home. At that moment I was even delighted. I needed time to exhale. I'm tired of getting up every day at 5 am. And I thought that the older one is still a good girl, since she gave me a break.
When I went to the coffee shop the next morning, I saw that the schedule had changed. Now I only had a few hours of work each day. “Well, after all, they can make a free schedule whenever they want,” I thought.
But when they told me that my hours were shortened because “you are a hysterical and you cannot work with people,” I was upset again. It turns out that this was their original plan. To provoke me to tears, and then make me look hysterical. But I know how to control myself. And I would have kept on, if not for that call. I didn’t reply to the caustic remark and set to work.
I liked the new schedule. I started getting enough sleep and seeing less of my colleagues. At that moment, I already developed immunity to criticism. I started to enjoy my work, without taking into account the opinion of the outside. But one day I was told that I was fired because I had not passed the "secret guest" test.
Three weeks passed from the date of hiring to dismissal. The work book had to be thrown out and a new one was started. Despite all the negativity, I was sad to part with the coffee shop. Then I promised myself that I would definitely come back when my life is happy. I'll come and buy the most expensive dessert and a glass of tea. And I'll drink it with a plush hippo. When my life becomes happy, I will absolutely not care who and what thinks of me.
Looking through the years
This story happened about 10 years ago, so the details could fade from memory. Now I wonder how I could endure a bad attitude towards myself, why I didn't quit earlier. Perhaps there was not enough life experience. I still love to brew coffee and bastard with the smell of cinnamon. But now coffee made by my hands is available only to a narrow circle of the elite.
Why did people treat me unfairly? I don't know the exact answer. But there is one guess. None of my colleagues liked working in a coffee shop. I heard them calling her hard labor and a temporary option.
In the first days, I shone with happiness, even performing the simplest actions. For some people, this is unbearable. Later, I more than once encountered the manifestations of this phenomenon.
Did I return to the coffee shop with the hippo? Not yet. Although my life can be called happy. But I moved from Moscow five years ago. And when I arrive in the capital, that coffee shop is not at all my way. But maybe one day I will find the time and fulfill my promise.