a letter to an older, wiser barista

I ran into you today. It’s been awhile, and I don’t know if you really remember me. And I don’t know that if you do remember me that those memories are fond ones. But I was glad to see you. I hope you’re doing well. I hope your adorable little kid is healthy and happy. I hope you feel closer now to God than you ever did before. I hope you know that you had an impact on me, because I think you deserve to have someone tell you that you make a difference in this world.

I hope you don’t remember me as a helpless klutz, because for all intents and purposes, that is exactly what I was my first couple of weeks at work. I’m thankful for your patience in teaching me everytime I go to make latte art, or make a frappe without having to carefully measure each ingredient while looking at a recipe guide. And I know you have a vendetta against lazy high schoolers, but I hope you didn’t consider me to be one of them. And I just wanted to take a minute to say thank you. Because even if you’ve completely forgotten who I am, I’m still thankful for everything I learned from you.


a younger, less wise barista

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