Starbucks, & Spirituality

So, I got a job. Yay!

I started training at Starbucks this week. (And, because I'm telling the whole internet, I'll probably eventually get stalkers or something. Oh, well.) It's a good company, I'll say that. I'm actually impressed with their ethics (at least their professed ethics!) and values of being connected & committed to the communities they are part of. I mean, if I'm going to work for a corporation, it's nice to know they (at least pretend to) care about their employees and suppliers. And the planet.
On my first day of orientation, I was impressed at language they used to describe the ideal working environment. In one pamphlet, called "The Green Apron Book," five goals/values are listed:

• Be Welcoming.
• Be Genuine.
• Be Knowledgeable.
• Be Considerate.
• Be Involved.
  

I really liked that. In fact, it almost sounded spiritual to me. It sounds like an excellent list of goals/values for a church. "Offer everyone a sense of belonging. Connect, discover, respond. Love what you do; share it with others. Take care of yourself, each other, and the environment."

In fact, when my supervisor read me the mission statement, I was struck by the ways in which they are endeavoring to be connected, at every level.

And don't we all want to be connected?

I've been reading a LOT of Madeleine L'Engle lately. I just finished "A Wind in the Door" today, and as usual, I was crying at the end. Her books have (re)highlighted this idea of connection. She puts forth the deeply spiritual idea that everything is intertwined--from galaxies to the smallest part of the molecules that make us up.

I love that.

Because, for all our instant communication technology (which I'm not knocking; I just had a conversation with my bro via text, and one with a very good friend via facebook), we aren't very connected to anything these days.


So. Maybe coffee is just coffee. Or, maybe, (not to sound like I've been drinking the espresso-flavored kool-aid) it's more than that. I'm looking for a way to keep a positive attitude about this job; I'm trying to find ways to integrate it into who I am. So that it's not just someplace I go and rush around at for eight hours so I can pay my bills. I don't want it to be something I endure...I want it to be part of who I am. I'm still figuring out how that might work.

But if Madeleine L'Engle is right (and I think she is...I hope she is...) then maybe making a good cup of coffee for someone and serving it to them with a smile is a way of fighting on the side of good.

That sounded dramatic. I mean, it's just coffee, right? Consumerism at it's finest?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Maybe I'm just a little farandola who is finally learning how to Deepen.

Weird

After writing my last post, in which I confessed that as much as I want to be married, it’s not at the top of my to-do list, I started think about just how weird I am. You’d really think that a hopeless romantic like me would rate marriage as her number one goal in life, but...no. Sadly, this is not the only bizarre thing about me, as you’d see if you really knew me. So, for the heck of it, I thought I’d come clean and post a list of the 27 weirdest things about me (27, btw, is my favorite number). [For future readers, I'm adding edits in this color, over 4 years later.]

1. I have never lived anywhere for more than about five years. Some places I lived less than a year. [Pittsburgh was seven years.]

2. I am a phone-a-phobe. I hate to call people on the telephone. I don’t even like ordering pizza. I don’t know why; but I would much rather write an email or a real letter than call someone that I don’t know very well. And I mean very well.

3. I don’t like the taste of alcohol. I barely tolerate the smell. [This has changed.  I have come to enjoy some types very much in moderation.]
4. I currently own over 500 books, crammed into my bedroom. And I fully intend to buy many more.  [I couldn't begin to guess. Probably twice that.]
5. I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 24 years old.
6. I have only been on two real dates. With two different guys.
7. I went to four different high schools.
8. I don’t believe in evolution. [At least, not macro evolution.]
9. I haven’t celebrated Halloween since I was five.
10. When I was in high school, I refused to watch Friends.
11. I like to watch TV and movies with the closed captions on, even though I am not hearing impaired.
12. I work at a coffee shop, but I don’t drink coffee.  [Yep, drink that now, too, thanks to my stint at Starbucks.]
13. In my spare time, when I’m bored, I watch Disney Channel programs. And I enjoy them.
14. I believe with my whole heart that there is a God, and that He created me, died for me, and loves me.
15. I am both a cat and a dog person.
16. Some people hear things and burst into song (my parents); I hear things and it will remind me of a movie quote. And I have to say it. And it will sound totally random.
17. Whenever I watch something (TV, movie) I play the “Where have I seen him/her” game. If an actor or actress is familiar, I have to figure out where I’ve seen him or her before. Luckily, IMDB has made that a whole lot easier for me.
18. I laugh out loud when I’m reading or watching something, no matter where I am.
19. I write in my books; I underline and circle things and scribble in the margins even if it’s a work of fiction. I can’t not write (if it’s my copy).
20. I randomly use a British accent in conversation; but my whole family does this. [This has gotten worse since becoming obsessed with Doctor Who.]
21. I really don’t like going to the beach or camping. [Actually, it depends on the beach, the campsite, and who I'm with.  I quite liked Greystones beach in Ireland, for example.]
22. I watch the credits of movies.
23. I eat cake for the frosting. But only if it’s the “good” kind.
24. My legs do not tan. They stay super-white no matter how long I stay out. [Except in Texas, as I discovered during a long summer as a camp counselor in the scorching sun.]

25. I snort when I laugh if I think something is really funny.
26. I’m actually friends with my brother and parents.
27. I don’t care a whit which way the toilet paper goes.

There you have it! I’m a freak. Though you probably already suspected this was true, now you have proof. But you know, I wouldn’t trade all my quirks and idiosyncrasies even if I could. Maybe that’s the weirdest thing about me.

PS: I challenge you to come up with a weird thing about me and post it in a comment. Go on. I can take it. 

Grey Day

Today started off kinda crappy—y’know, the usual: I overslept and had to hustle to work, skipping breakfast in the process. But this was extra bad because I was late for my first day of training at the coffee shop. AND on the way there my CD player started freaking out (it’s still not working) which was a major bummer. Part of what makes driving bearable for me is the opportunity to play my favorite music as loud a I want and sing at the top of my lungs just because I can.

And it’s raining here, and starting to get a little chilly. I actually like when it turns to fall, but the greyness I could do without. Still, it’s been a nice summer so I can’t complain too much. About that.

On the way home I turned the wrong way (yes, I am unbelievably bad with directions and every time I think I’m getting better I go and do something stupid like that) and wasted a good ten minutes at least before I realized it. I got home hungry and tired and slightly cranky still about my CD player. The coffee shop was fine. I didn’t make too many mistakes on the register (I don’t think) but I still have to tackle learning all the different drinks. Coffee people have their own lingo. I feel like I’m learning a new language: mocha, cappuccino, latte, espresso…wait, am I learning Italian?

But when I got home, there were two snuggly kittens waiting for me. I had some lunch, watched some TV (TLC and Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends) and took a nap with a grey ball of purring fluff also napping in my lap. It was just what I needed. I also logged on to the ‘net (obviously) and was notified that there is a brief clip from the season premier of season 2 of LOST. I saw it and OMG. I screamed. (I have a tendency to overreact when it comes to LOST. I am just a trifle obsessed.) Then I worried that I may have alarmed our new neighbors (we're in a townhouse) and they would think I was being murdered or something. But since no policemen came, I guess I'm in the clear. If you want to alarm your own friends, family and neighbors, it’s at the http://www.oceanicflight815.com site, under the explore section, after you click on a bunch of little dots to explore the “hatch” area. If you’re interested. And if you’re not, you should be. Shame on you.

So my day may be grey, but at least it’s ending well. Maybe I’ve got to just stop being such a drama queen and realize that those moments happen. Although, I must admit, being dramatic certainly has its advantages. At the very least it makes life more interesting.

JOBS

What is it about jobs that are so stressful? Seriously. Even the people I know who actually somewhat enjoy their jobs still come home at the end of the day exhausted and glad to be away from work. There are all kind of theories out there about this.

My dad describes it as the traffic light principle, and I don’t know who he got that from. You know, some jobs have a lot of red lights, things you just hate to do and aren’t that good at, some have a lot of yellows, things you can do but don’t enjoy, and a few greens, which are things you love to do and are good at.

The Christian theory is usually that because we are living in the world after the Fall, we all share in the curse that was given to Adam: that his work would be full of labor and futility. But not all Christians agree on what our “job” or our “purpose” here on earth really is. I’m reading a book right now called “Heaven is Not My Home” by Paul Marshall. The jury’s out, but it is an interesting look at the idea that our job is the same as it was in genesis, to rule and take care of the earth.

My current job is nowhere near that fulfilling. It’s what my dad would call a “red-light” job, full of things I don’t really enjoy. It’s not that they’re hard; it’s just boring. I’ve literally been falling asleep at my desk. And if my boss happens to read this while he’s in recovery from surgery, well, I’m sorry. But you know, Doc, you can’t really blame me since neither you nor the Mrs. exactly enjoy your jobs, either.

I’ve actually noticed that environment makes a huge difference to me in whether or not I enjoy my job. If I get along with my boss and co-workers and/or customers, I can handle a lot of tasks I wouldn’t normally care to try. (Also, I’ll do just about any chore if I can have my music playing.) But if I feel dumped on or boxed in it really stresses me out. I took one of those IFES type tests and the work situation it described as being not a good fit for me was basically my first job out of college.

My résumé reads like a hall of shame; part-time jobs I had for a little while until I couldn’t take it anymore or I was lucky enough to be moving on. I worked in the Cafeteria in college, and the dish room at six am was pretty torturous. When I took a year off between high school and college, I actually worked in a factory. It was horrible. I’ve never felt so much like a robot. The summer after college I worked at a theme park—which sounds fun in theory. But I worked the concessions stands. Outside. I had to wear the long-sleeved dresses, bloomers, and stockings of the 1800’s settlers in the highly humid Missouri summer. All day I got asked, “Aren’t you hot?” by people walking around in bathing suits, tank tops, and shorts. After college I worked at a couple preschools—the Montessori kind. I worked with some great kids and some neat ladies, but I just couldn’t handle all the structure they imposed on the kids. Plus, my job was usually more about keeping the room clean rather than interacting with and teaching the kids. Even now, my job is mostly about cleaning. I don’t have anything against cleanliness; it’s just not what I want to do for a living.

So far in my short life I have only had one job I truly loved, and that was in College. I worked in the Community Service department for three out of four years. It was great. I went into elementary schools, latchkey programs, boys and girls clubs, nursing homes, and a food pantry. I’m not sure if I loved it because it was highly relational, because I had a good balance of routine and variety, because I felt like I was doing something worthwhile, or a combination of all three.

I just applied for a job in a coffee shop this week. I’ve been looking around for another job for month, in part because my boss keeps talking about retiring. Just because he can’t make up his mind doesn’t mean I should be left without a job. I’ve applied at a library, a bookstore, and with a couple of ministries. Nothing happened. I keep asking God what it is he intends to do with me and the gifts he’s given me. Now I’m going to be going in for training at the coffee shop, Café Latte, next week. Did I mention I don’t even drink coffee? I guess that’s not a big deal. I’m not thrilled about the prospects of early mornings and impatient consumers, but it might not be so bad. (I always think that at the beginning of a job. Always.)

What I really want to be when I grow up is a writer. There are a lot of other things I’d like to do: teach, play in a band, record a song, study in another country, make a movie….but I really love to write. I’ve written two books so far. I hope to eventually get a website up about them, but I still might blog about them sometime. I’m also hoping to self-publish one of them in the near future.

I just wish that my sense of self and feelings of accomplishment weren’t so wrapped up in what I’m doing for a living. I mean, I have to pay the bills; that’s a given. But I can have dreams, can’t I? We all graduate from college bright eyed and hoping to land our dream job right away—or at least a job in our field. Some of us do. But I have very few friends who are really fulfilled in their jobs. I’m not just writing this to say work sucks or complain about the economy. I’m just wondering, like I’m sure others are, what went wrong? Is this as good as it gets?

I know deep down it’s not, and I’m grateful that I decided to reread John Eldredge’s “The Journey of Desire.” I love his books so much I will save it for a separate blog. He writes of how we were meant for so much more…but that it’s just possible we won’t get to fulfill it in this life. I’ve heard the saying “Life is not a Dress Rehearsal,” but Eldredge says it actually is. When Heaven and Earth are renewed and we are restored, maybe we will get to do all the things we always wanted to and were meant to—but without the frustration a failure. If you’ve ever been uninspired by the idea of what awaits us in heaven, go read the book right now. Literally. Stop reading this and go find a copy.

What I really want to do is write like that: to capture people’s hearts and minds; to show the truth through a story; to awaken people to the longing inside them; to pull back the curtain on the cosmic drama we are all meant to be a part of. Is it a core part of my being? Is it what I am meant to do? Is it my job? I guess we’ll see.