Closing the Coffee Chapter

This morning I sit on my back patio, coffee in hand, birds chirping all around me, and reflections welling deep within me. This morning, I have finally allowed some of the tears to flow from the emotions that have surrounded me over the last few days. This morning, I am bringing to you the story of the closing of my coffee chapter of life.
 
    Finding the right words for what the last few days....(or even years) of what my time in the coffee world has been is difficult to do. Coffee became much more than a poured latte or a fresh brewed cup. I will never see coffee, or any job, the same way.

   I have spent 7 years now in the world of coffee. My journey began at Starbucks, in 2007, in a town in Florida. Little did I know then that I would be doing it for so long. When I began the job, it was out of pure need. I really did not want to work at that time, I had to. However, I loved a cup of coffee so it was a great place to find a job. When I began coffee, I was terrible at it. But at that time of my hiring, my boss saw something in me that I didn't see. My first week at the job I burned my hand so badly, and did not even whisper a word about it because I didn't want to be in trouble. (Hindsight: that was a terrible way to handle that, but never having been in a real job before, I was clueless and thus, that was how I learned to report work incidents!)  a couple of months later, the Colonel Glenn Starbucks became my new coffee home due to our move.  Although I had learned a little, everything about life had changed and thus, once again, I was entering feeling extremely insecure.  There it took some time, but eventually I found a groove and joy in what I was doing. In time, I moved up the ladder to become a shift supervisor.

   Once again, there I learned i was capable of far more than I'd ever imagined. I could lead a team of 4 baristas and take charge of circumstances, events, problems and crazy moments. I wanted to be a shift supervisor in part for a little more money, initially. But there were greater purposes behind that new position. There were lessons imbedded for me to learn new capabilities. Characteristics I didn't know existed.  I faced rough sit downs with employees, forcing me to learn confrontation. I learned how to stay calm in moments it was total chaos, and how to keep the team calm as well. I learned how much value comes with a smile and a kind word.  I learned that I could lead and direct.  During my years at the Colonel Glenn Starbucks, I went through difficult life changes. A move, job changes, entering the work world full time as a mom, and hardest of all, the death of my mom. I made coffee every day, but the life lessons I took away from those years will reside with me always.

   Lastly, I have spent the last 3 years in a different coffee atmosphere. I took my Starbucks "skills" and lessons learned to a "calmer" or different, environment. I moved to serve coffee daily inside an office building. This change came at a perfect time in life, but little did I know what the future would hold. Again, here I say my soon to be boss saw something in me I did not recognize in myself yet. I had no idea I would be there 3 years. But upon my last day there, reflections of the time spent there has run deep. I made friends I never expected. Many of them have become a part of the 5K done in memory of mom.  I became the "bartender" of CareSource, they would say. When people needed a smile or a slice of quiet, they came for their coffee. Coffee became much more than that latte or brewed cup. I say this not to say "yay, me!" I say this because through my time there, I came to learn some valuable lessons about myself. Through different circumstances of life and even my day to day interactions, my boss taught me a lot about what was in me that I did not know was there. Little did the customers know that although they came for their coffee, they were in essence teaching me lessons at times, too. I believe I learned a few very strong lessons about life while there.

 One is: there is no such thing as just "a job".  Everywhere we are placed in life to work is no coincidence. We are there for a reason. To work, yes. But even more so, to use who God has created us to be for a larger purpose. You never know what kind of difference you are making just by being who you are where you are placed at that time. Yesterday, as I said goodbyes, that truth became more evident to me than ever. Please understand, I do not share this to say how great I am: I share this to tell you what I have learned and how that lesson came to be.  The flower arrangements came in all day long. I was overwhelmed every time a new one showed up. The cards kept being handed to me. The hugs were so much doled out that customers came to say it was like being in a receiving line at a wedding or something. I share this to say that it was through that, that the truth of there is no such thing as just a job really sank in to me yesterday. The love I felt was evidence of that truth. I repeatedly said "I'm just me. I'm just a barista"  And while there is truth in that, God uses the "just me's" in far deeper ways. No one is "just" someone. Everyone can be used. I made coffee. Simple as that. But that being said, He took that simple task and turned it into so much more, simply because of who I am. Through my time at the HeartBeat Cafe I saw great evidences of that truth. I think it took until yesterday to really fully believe it. Now I can take that into my next job and pour my heart into that in the running industry.

  The second most valuable lesson I have learned is that  you cannot let your circumstances, your past,  or words others say about you define who you are or what you become. My customers there would share their life stories, their hurts, their secrets, and their journeys with me often. Through listening to these of varying degrees, I often did not respond with words. However, when/if I did, it was more to tell them that those things or events or words were not who they were. In saying this to them, I was really more preaching to myself just as much. Words hold grips on me. And so often, words have prevented me from becoming something or someone I have a capacity to be. As I listened to their stories, I think I began to see this lesson in my own life. I wanted them so badly to rise above whatever pain they were sharing and see what I could see in them. But....I have to do the same for myself.  Once again, in ending my chapter yesterday, I believe that truth resonated deeply in me for the first time.

    My years working as a barista taught me much more than how to make a good latte. I learned through various people and circumstances these valuable life lessons. The coffee stories will continue to flow, but the reflections needed to be the theme of today. The coffee chapter closes.  A new depth of running chapter will open. These 2 loves of my life have come full circle in some aspects. The path of what has occurred the last several years is amazing to look back on. Were it not for me working in Starbucks, I never would have gone to the Air Force Marathon. Were it not for that, i would not have developed a love for running, or met those who will now be my current boss and coworkers. Were it not for my love of running, I never would have started my 5K. Were it not for the 5K, I would not have become certified as a race director. Were it not for that, I may not be having my new dream job.... Coffee and running colliding with God's perfect plan unfolding. Lessons learned and  a path well worn and journeyed. But perfect all the same....
    One chapter closing, another opening. 2 Loves colliding. One day at a time.

The Karen and The Hugger

I have 2 more days left in the coffee industry world from the barista's perspective. The change is beginning to sink in with me. I am overwhelmed and excited. Scared and nervous. Unsure and sure all at one time. have you ever been there? Where you were riding the roller coaster of emotions? Often times for me, that roller coaster has occurred because of a dramatic (bad) change or event in life.  For the first time in a very long time, this is happening for one of the best changes ever.
  That being said, I will miss my daily interactions with some of these people. They tell me I have touched their lives; but to me honest, they have touched mine. Hence, I write these stories recently of all the different people with whom I have crossed paths. The blogs will flow for a bit even after I leave the coffee world because I have been privileged enough to have had that many interactions.

  Today I tell a story about 2 different women who have deeply touched me.

First, there is Karen.
   I do not always recall my first encounters with people. But with Karen, the first encounter stands out in huge ways, probably because she tells the story over and over. Yet, for me the story never gets old; it has grown endearing. Karen first came in to order a large caramel macchiato. For some reason, and I cannot remember what that was, I pegged Karen as a Starbucks drinker. So when she ordered her coffee (skinny, by the way) I had to ask/explain several things before making her drink. First, I asked her if she was a Starbucks frequenter. When the answer was yes, I explained that our C.M. was different from a Starbucks one. And did she want it the Starbucks way or our way? She laughed about this, but chose the Starbucks way. Her drink ever since then, although to a common person would just be called a skinny caramel macchiato, to most people around the building, it became known as "The Karen". I literally would have people come order The Karen.  There are others who pegged themselves a drink as well, but Karen's became the most ordered (perhaps because she told the story often enough others knew...)
   Along the way, Karen became a friend. Being as busy as she is, our conversations are not long, but they are meaningful. Karen, by no means takes the place of my mom, but has often times provided just the bit of encouragement to me that my mom would have done. Days I missed my mom terribly, Karen seemed to know this and would say just the right words. We would share stories about our moms or about our loss of mothers. Many days, when I was struggling as a parent, Karen would listen. She has raised daughters and k nows the struggle of what a mom who works full time can be. She let me often share my frustrations over those things or the transition in parenting a middle school girl. She knew what to say to help me see myself differently (just like my mom did). Karen always encouraged my runs and supported my early morning endeavors. Karen has often had just the right amount of wisdom and encouragement to give me in the moments I felt doubts and discouragement. She has frequently helped push my endeavors as a writer in ways others have not, usually unbeknownst to her. She said she came for coffee for her moment of peace in the day.....but what she didn't know is that her visit often provided me with the boost of encouragement I needed that day. God knew we'd need each other, I think, is how I view that.  Karen has made an imprint on my life.

Secondly, I do not know if she would want named, so I leave her nameless in this blog. But we will call her "The Hugger".
   She is not a coffee drinker. She loves hot chocolate with a splash of peppermint. I do not remember first meeting her. Time passed before we developed a deeper friendship, but along the way, she has come to know me at a depth others do not. She gave up her hot chocolate during the Lent season, but she came in every day anyway just to give me a hug and say "hi". She would stop what she was doing if she passed by me while I was at my cash register at lunch and give me a hug. She didn't have to hear my voice to see in my eyes when I was having a tough day. I don't wear it on my sleeve (usually) but the hugger somehow always knew. I have run into her on many occasions outside of work- the grocery store, clothes shopping or the mall, and every time, the first thing that happens is that she gives me a giant hug. I never told her I love hugs and how much they mean to me, but she just gives them, and that always brightens my day. She understands grief. She has watched me develop dreams and passions and ambitions and has been one behind saying "Go for it! You can do totally do this ...and you better do this!" The hugger has come to be a very close friend to me, and her strength, determination, go get 'em attitude, security in who she is and vibrancy for life have inspired me beyond words. The tid bits of wisdom she shares when it's appropriate have caused me to pause and think and grow in who I am. The hugger has made an imprint on my life.

These 2 women are unique and special.
 Each person is.
   That is one of many lessons I have learned in being a barista- we each have gifts and abilities, no matter what our position or status in life. I will share some of those things tomorrow.
     Stories to follow in days to come about my bosses and a plethora more of customers....

My time in the coffee industry has been special and unique, no doubt.

The older generation

I began to type that I love the older generation and have a soft spot for them, but what I've come to learn is that I really just love people. Some will hold bigger spots in my heart than others, but I really enjoy people of all ages and stages of life. They all teach me something in some fashion, all in their own unique ways.

  One would not think that the older generation frequents the coffee shops, but I can tell you firsthand that they do.  Most of them just want a cup of coffee and nothing fancy, but you can still find them in the coffee shops. Here are a few recollections...


 Abu.
   Abu is a short, old man of middle eastern descent. He has a thick accent and you have to listen closely at times because he will speak quickly. Abu has giant smile lines around his eyes and mouth because he truly is smiling all the time. He has a joke for many occasions and always a reason to laugh. Abu has proudly brought pictures of his new grand baby to show off to me and recounted stories of his kids. He loves people,too, and is frequently buying a cup of whatever the person next to him is getting, simply because he has a big heart. He looks for nothing in return, and often times he doesn't even really know the person, but by the time he leaves the coffee shop, he does know much about them. Because that is Abu. A kind-hearted, silly "old" man, but young at heart. Abu is in the shop at least 3 times a day, and I tell him he will turn into a cup of coffee. I am glad Abu crossed my path and became my friend.

  Frank.
    Frank was an old customer of mine at Starbucks. Frank was former military and was rarely seen entering the store without his black hat with yellow writing of whatever his military group was. He was a proud veteran. Frank was so kind. But what I learned and loved most about Frank was his devotion to his wife. Frank and I came to know each other because he was in search of a good cup he could buy that had a straw but would not break or spill when tipped over because his wife was dying from cancer and often times spilled her cups. He loved her with a passion rarely found in people today. I know not because I met her myself, but I know because of how he talked about her and the light his eyes got when he told stories about her.  He cared for her in her dying days and we connected, not because I understood a spouse dying, but I understood grief. And thus, I would quietly listen and soak in each and every story he'd tell. A grieving person, or one knowing they soon will be letting go, often has to share and that helps through the process. Frank shared many stories with me. Little did Frank know that he was teaching me lessons in the process. Lessons about love and faith and open, caring hearts. Frank inspired me. He held a love that is rare to be found any more. He held what every fairy tale does. Frank's wife passed, and the sadness was in his voice as he would share how much he missed her. And yet,  the love of the years they had together was stronger than the sadness and proved to keep him going strong. He talked of her much even after her passing, and their love story will always resonate with me. Frank even came out to support me at Relay for Life, as cancer was a sickness that had touched both our lives and ultimately, bonded our friendship. He was a grandfather type figure to me, but he was even more so a friend. I learned much from Frank.

Me and Frank at Relay for Life

  Diana
   Diana is not old enough by any means to be a grandparent to me; she's more along the lines of what my dad's age is, most likely. She reminds me of my mom in some ways. But Diana has stood out as an inspiration to me. Diana had cancer. Little did I know this until she returned from months of chemo/radiation and had a beautiful wig on. But more than her wig stood out, her smile and positive spirit did. She never complained. She was always grateful for coming through the cancer in a positive light. She embraced the experience instead of being bitter about it. She did not allow it to control her or change her, she took it and let it become a story of great triumph and bravery. To be honest, I am not even sure what kind of cancer it was. It really doesn't matter. Diana has taught me about perseverance and good spirits. When her hair began growing back, she became even more beautiful and to watch her embrace the new look was just as empowering. She taught me about what being a secure woman can look like in a day like today. She is strong and beautiful and an inspiration. And her encouraging words upon my announcement to move on from the coffee industry gave me strength and inspiration as well... Diana will forever have an imprint on my life.

 
The stories of the "older" generation go on like this.... hard workers, true lovers, strong character, steadfast faith, and genuine souls. The lives of those with whom I've interacted in the older generation have greatly touched me and taught me more than they ever knew. In fact, they probably had no idea they were touching me in that way. I am grateful to have had so many encounters.

Military friends

Today is Memorial Day, so it seems appropriate that my "Coffee is a Love Language" story would involve the military men and women with whom I have crossed paths because of coffee.
  I have always had a special spot for military because, 1- I am forever grateful for all they have done for me. I am fascinated by their strength and determination and bravery. And I highly admire each and every position that can be named.  and
   2-my younger brother is a Marine, and thus, I have an even deeper love and appreciation for what they endure and do for our freedom.  Tim has done a couple tours in Iraq/Afghanistan as well as other places, and I am so proud of him.
 

  I had the privilege to work as a barista right next to an Air Force base, and thus, many military frequented our store.
  To be honest, i can't recall all of or even many of their names.
 I worked hard during that time to understand and learn the ranks so when they would come in, I could properly address them. It was my pleasure to serve countless men and women their coffee.

 A few stories from those days stand out.
    There was Megan. Megan was a young mom, and served in the Air Force. During the time our paths crossed, I knew Megan pregnant and then giving birth, and then I said goodbye to her as she had to do a tour oversees. When Megan returned from that tour, her husband then deployed. Megan was always smiling, in spite of the exhaustion she felt. She was happy to serve our country. She was also happy to come in and treat herself to a coffee and  a place to find a few minutes of quiet and solitude.

 There was Andrea. Andrea was in every Saturday morning with her  boys. She did this to give her husband the morning off to sleep in or do whatever it was he wanted. The three of them would sit up at the coffee bar. Andrea would read the paper and the boys would talk about sports stats and play with their toys. Everyone knew Andrea because she just had that friendly personality.

  Countless others touched my life and crossed my path in that time. Mothers of young children whose spouse was deployed. Men who came in in their uniform, tired, but holding heads high nonetheless. Women who gave up time to serve the country. Countless customers, dressed in uniform, seeking a smile and a slice of quiet in a simple cup of coffee.
   One of my favorite things about being a barista at Starbucks was we had the privilege to give 2 drinks away a day. We had a pass code of sorts we used and we were able to choose whom we wanted. Random surprise and delights, we called it. I loved when I was able to give mine to a military person to say thank you. Such a simple gesture for such huge efforts they do, but sometimes, there are no words to do justice for their acts of service.

 During my time there, I was able to head up a project to love on our overseas soldiers. Customers had the opportunity to "submit" their soldier for our project, and we would feature the soldier with a picture of them and a list of their favorites. We would then collect their favorites over a couple of weeks and send them a loving care package from their neighborhood Starbucks. I loved being in the middle of that. I met Judy, a mother of a soldier and Kim, another mother of a soldier, and we connected as we collected items for their sons who served overseas. I cried in reading some of the letters we collected for those soldiers and felt pure joy at sending them a little piece of home. That project was short lived, but one of my favorite memories of my time as a barista there.

  This is why I say coffee is a love language. It is universally spoken. A cup of coffee bought for another person says more than words can at  times. It may seem silly until you begin to be a witness of its occurrence time and again. I am blessed to have had the privilege to serve coffee to so many ranks and personnel..

Coffee is a Love Language: The Three Musketeers

                    Chapter 5. The Three Musketeers

They are silly, sarcastic and sentimental all rolled into one. I love their daily morning visits and occasional afternoon stop by for their coffees. 
  The Three Musketeers, I call them. They bring smiles to the day with their crazy ideas and conversations. They bring heartfelt hugs on days like mom's death anniversary. They see things that others don't, and then bring it around as a joke the next day that only we would understand. They are totally the three musketeers. 

 Musketeer one: She is unique and wonderful.  She has been my customer the longest of all of them. She drinks a large coffee every morning, and often times the pot runs out on her and she is "blessed" enough to have learned my process well enough to grab the new, freshly brewed pot. She will not take the cup or the lid if it is the last one in the box, and frequently, though there is one cup left, I will have to go get a new sleeve so that she will be satisfied. I have embraced these things about her. She is part of the motherless daughters. She understands my frustrations and hurts and listens well. She is definitely silly and sarcastic, but she is sentimental too. 

Musketeer two: She rolls her eyes often at the other 2 musketeers, but totally out of love. She brings reality to the table. She drinks a medium mocha, non fat, no whip, every single morning. Her afternoon drink is a simple black coffee. She follows my blog and supports my endeavors. Often times she has happened by the silliest moments in the coffee shop, and thus, we share laughs frequently. She has a caring heart that reaches beyond places she even realizes. Musketeer two does her best to bring the other silly ones back to moments of reality from their far fetched ideas, which are so very crazy at times. She listens and cares. 

Musketeer three: She does not show her sentimental side as often, but it's deep in there. I force hugs on her.  She is the newest to my body of customers, as the three musketeers go. She likes tons of whipped cream on her drink. She finds ways to laugh when there should be tears involved. She has a quick comment for everything, which is quite endearing about her. She always includes me in the conversations. She's brave and strong and understands grief like no woman her age should. She has become a great friend to me as well. In fact, she tried to declare the others to wear green in honor of my leaving. 

These three are found together in my shop nearly every morning. I look forward to their visits, to hearing what crazy idea they are brewing up on that day. One of the latest having something to do with making their kids steal something and go to prison so they could get a free education....(mind you, they are not serious, but just listening to these crazy conversations is hysterical and leaves me speechless at times).  They quietly acknowledged the anniversary of my mom's death- not something everyone was aware of. Two of the three have a deep understanding of grief in ways we should never have to comprehend. The third quietly lends her support in all ways- by being there, by giving cards, by coming to the walks. She may not have that circle of understanding per say, but she is one of the few in life to let us grieve and just listen and be there. Each of them reached out to me on day of my half marathon to wish me luck.  The three musketeers are confident women, whom I admire for their strength in each of their own ways. 
  One- a single mom, strong in her provision and love. Others come first always.Her silliness. Her realness.
  Two- a confident woman. Loves others and listens well. Cares deeply and gives back.
 Three- a strong woman in character. Loves God. Does not let others bring her down, she is strong in who she is. 

  These silly three musketeers have given me much about which to laugh and remember. 

Still Going Strong

"Run often, Run long, but never outrun your joy of running."
   Julie Isphording


I am on day 19 of the 30 day running challenge, and I am still going strong.  This challenge has certainly been a challenge for me, but it has been an enjoyable one, and different from any I have ever pushed myself through. 
 A recap of some of the days look like this:

  Day 10- The morning was dark and drizzly. The night had been full of pouring rain, but as I started off, there was only a drizzle in the air. However, not long into the run, the pour down began. I had opted out of my glasses for the run, which is a rarity because I can't see far without them. However, rain covered glasses don't get me far, either. So, I decided it would be a shorter run. The downpour began, and all I can say is that it was warm enough out that I became like a child again, splashing in the puddles. I didn't avoid them, i laughed as I ran through them. I didn't mind the downpour, I ran harder through it. I didn't care about my shirt and face dripping wet, I wiped my face and pushed on with a smile. Day 10 was wet, but it was fun. A welcome change. A reminder that no matter the weather, life still goes on. A reminder in life parallel, that no matter the difficult times, the rainy days, the rough patches that happen, smiles can still be found, the sun eventually reappears, and life will carry on and I will somehow always be ok. 

Day 10 end of run. I look like a drowned rat!

Who shares awful photos like these? Only a crazy runner such as myself....

   

Day 11 was polar opposite of day 10. A cold front blew through with the rain, and I woke up to a cold and gross morning. I did not want to run this day. I had loved the warmth, being in shorts, and feeling free. Having a cold snap in the middle of that was like tight muscles, restrictive clothing and the blood taking time to warm up just in time for run to be ending. However, I pulled out my lightweight running pants and dragged myself out the door. The run didn't end up being so terrible. I had left the headphones at home, and enjoyed the sound of the birds chirping and drinking in the smells of the morning grass and the post rain air.  By the end of the run, my blood was warmed up and quite honestly, I did not want to stop. 

Day 12  I am happy to say I was able to take my running buddy out once again. The vet cleared Dexter for some short runs, so day 12 was the first for him to go out with me again. I don't know if he was more excited or if I was! We could only go for a mile, so day 12 was short, but sweet. He did great, stayed by my side, and pranced like a puppy. It was nice to have him out with me again. He did great, and eventually will be on long runs with me again, but not for a bit of time. He needs time still, so it's baby steps. Having him for a mile was joyful.

Day 18 I had friends join me once again. I rarely can talk people into the early morning time with me anymore, but on day 18, Tiffany and Laura met up with me and out we went. For me, as much as I enjoy the solitude of my runs at times, I do enjoy the companionship at times, too. I had missed having people with me. I said to Tiffany "haven't you missed these runs??"  She turned her headphones higher and laughed and said "Huh? I can't hear you!" We laughed and kept going.... 

  today is day 19. I'll lace up and head out soon. When I began this journey, I had interviewed for my new job, but had not heard yet whether it would be. I began this journey of 30 days, and what a journey it is becoming, as through this journey, I will be closing up one chapter and beginning another. When this 30 day journey ends, I will be in my new job, which centers around running at the Marathon office. This 30 day challenge has become so much more to me than just going out running for 30 days straight. I am recognizing all new things about myself and when I run each day, it gives me time to process those recognitions and it gives me time to recollect the past days and be excited about the future. The 30 day challenge has become a journey of faith for me as much as pushing myself to run every day.  

Chapter 4. Chicken Nacho and Black Bean Burrito

 Chapter 4

As referred to in last blog, my co worker, Tiffany and I somehow came to be known as Chicken Nacho (Me) and Black Bean Burrito (her). It's not that we were called that all the time, but we laughed about this often, saying it would become a book about us. Well, here we are, not in a book, but on a blog.  
 so many stories have occurred between the 2 of us in our working days, that she deserved her own page.  We have laughed so hard we couldn't talk at times. 
  As I said, we work like clockwork together and don't have to say a whole lot to accomplish all our tasks. She is a strong, determined, funny, confident woman I admire. She is my friend. Here are some of our silly stories:
   
The Running Man: Tiffany will often break out in a dance move. I, on the other hand, will not be found doing that. However, when Tiffany and I have no one around, I will get silly and do a little jig at times. One day, Tiffany said "Let's do the running man". You know what I mean...the dance the running man. She did it smoothly and effortlessly. Then it came to be my turn. For the life of me, I could not accomplish it. Every time I tried, I began to look like a person jogging in an awkward state. I simply could not do it. No matter how many efforts I have given it, I fail. But it has become hysterical. Tiffany will say "For a runner, Rachael, you really should be able to do this dance move." She has tried on more than one occasion to teach me some dance moves, but we have decided it's just not going to happen. I will be the whitest white girl when it comes to dancing. She laughs any time this story surfaces

Black v. White: Tiffany is black, I am white. Literally. (While that could be a sensitive topic to broach, please know that the color of our skin difference has never once played apart in our friendship. So please understand it is actually a basis of our friendship and not a racist remark). She will laugh that I am the whitest white girl she has ever met (case in point-I cannot do the Running Man). We have often discussed the differences that we experience simply because of this different background. I recall specifically a conversation about hair. I could not comprehend why Tiffany would not run with me in the rain, or why she had to have an umbrella all the time in rain. She explained to me it's a difference between white people hair and black people hair- it just doesn't work in the rain. Period. She explained what a relaxer is and how they have to use that in their hair. She explained the difference in how it grows, or why some have extensions often, and all those things that were once foreign concepts to me. We've discussed the differences in our choices of music, our bodies and how we view them and a little of all that in between. Tiffany has taught me much about this. Skin color has never mattered to our friendship. 

The Bucket List: We began our own bucket list. At times, Tiffany would randomly pop over to the coffee shop and say "Write it down- this is going on the bucket list...." We pretend we will one day carry them out together and write a book about it all called "The Adventures of Chicken Nacho and Black Bean Burrito". We have an on going list, some silly some serious. 

Free Style Friday:  Tiffany likes to make up days. In other words, Fridays are often Free Style Fridays. We have to rhyme all day. Or I made up Sing Song Thursday (even though when I start to sing she will tell me to stop).  She will find whatever resembles a microphone and pull it out to sing into. We bring silly to the table to make moments pass through the day at times. We are both super busy in our jobs, but in between, we like to have fun and be silly and do these silly games. We attempt to play games during our cashier lunch hour, but we usually only get started and then never finish because we are too busy. Most of these made up moments in the day bring much laughter. Especially because I am frequently the serious one of the staff. Meaning, I often times don't understand half of what is being said, or if a person makes a comment, I take it to heart, so they like to do it to me just to make me pause and say "Do I really do that?" or "Am I really like that?" Then they all laugh because they do it just to get to me.  Free Style Friday is fun because I clearly am not the best at it and they can all watch me think hard to come up with something to "free style". 

Hester:  If you are around us often enough, you will inevitably hear me called "Hester". The name was tagged onto me by Tiffany. What happened was at one time, there was a customer who consistently called me Heather. I don't know why- I do wear a name tag with my own name. But I also never corrected the person. I simply answered to it. One day, Tiffany finally told the customer my name was not Heather because she couldn't stand it any more that I wouldn't correct it. Then it became a big joke, and somehow she turned Heather into Hester. She liked that even better. And the name stuck. So much that you may often hear my boss calling me that instead of my own name. It's strange, but somehow sentimental in some ways too. 

Pure Laughter: Tiffany and I laugh a lot. She will say something, then laugh because "I crack myself up" she will say, which can only make me laugh too. She has forced me to be able to laugh at myself. There was once a story I was telling her about my bad night, and the story ended because by the end of the night I was on the floor crying because my toilet was clogged and I could not get it to unplug. She interrupted my story by laughing so hard because all she could picture was me sitting on the floor holding a plunger crying and she found that hysterical. It actually forced me to be able to laugh at myself in that moment because she was laughing so hard. Not making fun of me, but helping me see it all in a different light. We will banter back and forth so much that we end laughing. She is quick with her comments, it takes me about 10 minutes with a comeback, which leaves her shaking her head and laughing. The girl just makes me laugh, no matter how tired we are, how busy we are, how sad one of us might be.... She brought daily laughter back to my life at a time after having lost my mom and thinking I'd never laugh like that again. 

Tiffany is that rare co worker that comes along with whom I bonded. I am confident that my moving on will not be the end of our friendship or our silly stories. She has made me laugh to tears, been there to hug me when I've been in tears, she has forced me to learn to laugh at myself, and she has helped me to learn to embrace confidence about who I am. She has helped me to see my faults and fix them and to point out my strong points and use them. Tiffany is a true friend. If it weren't for my being a Guckenheimer Girl barista, we'd never have met. I am thankful for that experience.