The Day I Put In My Two Weeks

Also, Monica and Robert are both moving out of this house. I've offered the idea to Iven about taking Robert's room next to mine. That would be too perfect.

Honestly, the final straw was the afternoon when Jason reprimanded Jake and I for a lousy morning rush, when he said we handled the line poorly and inefficiently, when Jake grabbed yogurt for Lance and I failed to acknowledge the waiting customers to tell them we'd be with them shortly. He called me a veteran. He said I should be teaching Jake appropriate work ethic. First of all, we both thought that we'd handled that rush just fine. We'd even high-fived about it afterward. Jason thought otherwise. He held up a stack of resumes and said, "This is how many people want your job. Just this month. Okay? So do your job. We don't pay you to be nice. We pay you to be efficient." He was trembling when he spoke. He excused us from the office and probably didn't realize that he'd just inspired me to leave the coffee-culture once and for all. Jason basically put it all out there: You're a tool, you're part of the mechanism, you're replaceable and you're shit to us. Then he wants me to go back out there and earn minimum wage for a dead-end job. Like fuck. 

There was only so long I could work at a coffee-shop. 

I'm done. It's over. In two weeks, I'm out. Fuck coffee. 

But where does this leave me? What does this mean? What's going to happen next? That's a good question. I don't have the answer yet. I want to write more, read more, spend less, submit stories, get published, support myself. Until any of that happens, though, I'm starting at Square One with about half my financial aid, few monthly bills, no car, necessary dental work, twelve units at Sac State and an unimaginable amount of free time. 

Also, I burnt all of Monica and Dan's wood. Thought it was communal. Woops. I have to remember to buy them a bunch of of wood to replace the stacks. Damnit. 

Jenny's delayed trip puts her at a departure of October 6. We've got about a month left to share this room and my last day at Old Soul will be the 23rd, which gives us about two weeks of sleeping in together. Working at a coffee-shop has made such happenings a rarity. It'll be awesome to have that many late nights and late mornings in a row. 

Tim asked if I'd stick around until the 25th because they're not sure if Merideth, who comes back on the 19th, will return to the espresso machine. We doubt it. 

I love everyone I've become friends with through Old Soul. I love the people I work with. I love the memories and the moments. This job certainly ties for Favorite with my two-year gig with A'romas, both in work environment and friendships. It's impossible for me to remember all the good things that I've experienced at Old Soul. Little chapters of a big part of my life. From my first days with Meredith, Zoe, Kristin and Adam to my final weeks with Jake, Landon, Nick and Megan. From Tammie to Bronwyn to Devon to Strongbull. From Stephanie to Jack to Joe to Ciera to Meghan. From Drew to Eric to Hank to Tyler to Hank to Dan. From Mort to Andrea. From Tim to Jason to Jill to Eowyn. From Renovation to Airport to Reading Partners. From Training to Morning Shift to Night Shift to Morning Shift. From Chris to Chrispresso. From "We Need Fives Please" to "We Need Fives Like Harry Potter Has Daddy Issues." From Sarge to Sarge. From No Tax to Sales Tax. I've tried to keep track and bond with the couple hundred people passing through those doors each week. I've tried to make the most of it. I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for that job, and certainly that's a given. Wouldn't have heard of H. Letham. Wouldn't have held bonfires. Wouldn't have met Jenny. Wouldn't have found this house. Wouldn't have had these friends. In that case, I think I did make the most of it. I had a really great time. It hurts still to think about the good things I'll miss: the people, the coffee, the food, the ambiance, the music, the blackberry scone and the fifty-percent discount. 

I won't miss the unfortunately dictatorial rule the owners had over us. I won't miss the dulling repetition of latte after latte. I'm done making lattes. I hate lattes. I hate foaming milk. I hate worrying about the quality of an espresso shot. I hate fake interest. I hate handling cash. I hate getting tips because I know how much I need them. I hate standing for eight hours. I hate meeting amazing people and then watching them fade away soon after. I hate the rules. I hate the dramas. Most of all, I hate waking up early. I abso-fucing-lutely hate waking up early, especially for that job, especially since it feels like I've been waking up early for that job for seven years. Ugh. 

That's why I'm quitting. 

I'll never leave if I don't take the first step. 

I've still got time to fuck shit up.

Also, I went on a photo walkabout with Jenny and happened across this year's Chalk-It-Up with Iven, so here are some pictures of that.

- Left to Fry