This morning I went to my usual coffee shop, but I noticed that there was a new man working there.
I walked up to the counter, and all he said to me was, “We’re not open yet.”
He said nothing more, nothing less, offering no explanation as to why they weren’t open despite it being an hour after their usual opening time.
I found it strange, but I figured that I would just sit down at a table and start working. Shortly thereafter, the manager showed up and opened the store.
After observing the man interact with several customers, I realized that he may have a mental disability. He spoke well, but his movements were slow and at times, he seemed confused.
I worked for about an hour, and then decided that I should get my beverage. I approached the man at the counter while the manager worked behind him, cleaning dishes, wiping down counters, typical coffee shop tasks.
I ordered my usual: a decaf Americano with Half & Half and one Splenda.
The man searched the screen for a few moments, eventually pressing a few buttons. He followed with, “Your total is $4.45.”
I knew this was incorrect, the decaf Americano is $3.95.
“Excuse me, but are you sure you put the order in right? I think it should be $3.95.”
He apologized, searched the screen a bit more, removed the previous order, and then corrected it.
After I paid, he started making my drink. I was feeling a bit apprehensive. If he couldn’t get the order in correctly, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him making my drink. He walked back and forth a few times, looking a bit perplexed about how to make an Americano. He went over to the manager and quietly double checked with her that he was making it correctly.
He took his time. I saw him wander behind the counter, pouring a little of this, a little of that, and after several minutes, he finally passed the cup over to me.
I said thank you, grabbed the drink, walked back to my seat, and sat down. Before I took my first sip, I braced myself, expecting the worst but hoping for the best.
What I tasted caught me completely off guard. Not only was my Americano not bad, it was probably the best Americano I’ve ever had from this coffee shop, a perfect balance of the ingredients I ordered.
When you drink the same thing frequently, subtle differences in how a barista makes the drink become not so subtle. Slight changes in the ratio of ingredients can make a big difference, throwing off the taste that you’re accustomed to.
Every day I watch the baristas rush from drink to drink, never putting much thought or consideration into what they’re making. And who can blame them? The orders stack up, and we live in a world that rewards efficiency and quickness.
But this new barista—the one who struggles with communication, who struggles taking orders correctly, who has to double check with his manager how to make an Americano—made my drink perfectly, because he took his time.
Never underestimate what someone is capable of. Just because they might appear different from what you’re used to seeing, doesn’t mean that they can’t do it better than anyone else.
And lastly, slow down sometimes. Fast doesn’t always mean better.
Thank you to the new barista, who, by meticulously crafting my drink, reminded me of a few important lessons today.
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This morning I went to my usual coffee shop, but I noticed that there was a new man working there.
I walked up to the counter, and all he said to me was, “We’re not open yet.”
He said nothing more, nothing less, offering no explanation as to why they weren’t open despite it being an hour after their usual opening time.
I found it strange, but I figured that I would just sit down at a table and start working. Shortly thereafter, the manager showed up and opened the store.
After observing the man interact with several customers, I realized that he may have a mental disability. He spoke well, but his movements were slow and at times, he seemed confused.
I worked for about an hour, and then decided that I should get my beverage. I approached the man at the counter while the manager worked behind him, cleaning dishes, wiping down counters, typical coffee shop tasks.
I ordered my usual: a decaf Americano with Half & Half and one Splenda.
The man searched the screen for a few moments, eventually pressing a few buttons. He followed with, “Your total is $4.45.”
I knew this was incorrect, the decaf Americano is $3.95.
“Excuse me, but are you sure you put the order in right? I think it should be $3.95.”
He apologized, searched the screen a bit more, removed the previous order, and then corrected it.
After I paid, he started making my drink. I was feeling a bit apprehensive. If he couldn’t get the order in correctly, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him making my drink. He walked back and forth a few times, looking a bit perplexed about how to make an Americano. He went over to the manager and quietly double checked with her that he was making it correctly.
He took his time. I saw him wander behind the counter, pouring a little of this, a little of that, and after several minutes, he finally passed the cup over to me.
I said thank you, grabbed the drink, walked back to my seat, and sat down. Before I took my first sip, I braced myself, expecting the worst but hoping for the best.
What I tasted caught me completely off guard. Not only was my Americano not bad, it was probably the best Americano I’ve ever had from this coffee shop, a perfect balance of the ingredients I ordered.
When you drink the same thing frequently, subtle differences in how a barista makes the drink become not so subtle. Slight changes in the ratio of ingredients can make a big difference, throwing off the taste that you’re accustomed to.
Every day I watch the baristas rush from drink to drink, never putting much thought or consideration into what they’re making. And who can blame them? The orders stack up, and we live in a world that rewards efficiency and quickness.
But this new barista—the one who struggles with communication, who struggles taking orders correctly, who has to double check with his manager how to make an Americano—made my drink perfectly, because he took his time.
Never underestimate what someone is capable of. Just because they might appear different from what you’re used to seeing, doesn’t mean that they can’t do it better than anyone else.
And lastly, slow down sometimes. Fast doesn’t always mean better.
Thank you to the new barista, who, by meticulously crafting my drink, reminded me of a few important lessons today.
