Origin of the Barista Snob: a satirical and historical analysis

Preface: There is a great viral internet meme that sums up the Barista Snob, which was originally posted here.  In an effort to be spared from a lawsuit, I took the meme down, but you can find it on other sites such as here: http://www.foodista.com/blog/2011/08/26/hipster-barista-meme-pokes-fun-at-coffee-shop-workers

Portlandia is past due to make an episode about “The Barista Snob”.
The scene would go like this. Polite customer: “Hi, can I have a small, skinny, decaf latte please?”

Barista Snob replies with a fake half-smile: “Oh yeah, we call that a ‘Why Bother‘; your total is $4″.

The customer pulls out her money and wonders if she is being insulted or if it was just a friendly tease, but she isn’t sure because the body language of the barista is stand-offish (arms crossed, lack of eye-contact…) and there was half of a smile going on but it looked kind of fake.  As the barista’s back is turned to the customer while making the drink, she wonders if her drink is truly being made with decaf. Continue reading

“All of me. Why not take all of me?” A Katrina Memoir pt. 2

Jackson Square from a 2006 Motorola flip-phone

Jackson Square from a 2006 Motorola flip-phone

Do you ever talk about something so much, and you are so aware of it, that it even annoys you? I feel that way about New Orleans. It is to the point where I worry that I am going to annoy the people closest to me who hear about it the most, or else it will make them worry that I will leave them to return to that city.

I figured that one way to mentally move-on from my nine years in the Crescent City (yet simultaneously celebrate my cherished memories), is to pay tribute through writing everything out, getting it out of my head and into a story for whoever stumbles upon my writings. That should help, right?

One reason why I miss New Orleans since I left in 2011, is because of memories like this one:

Triggered every time I hear the old jazz standard, “All of Me”, I think about this young crazy chic who was rumored to be a prostitute, who used to sing this song once a week, alongside the jazz band that played nightly at my work. It was a restaurant called Angeli on Decatur- a late night joint in the French Quarter of New Orleans, two blocks from the banks of the Mississippi River.

For a few months after Hurricane Katrina, I had the privilege of working in a beautifully chaotic work environment. The kind of place where you needed a stiff drink when the shift was over, where you commiserate with co-workers over the hell you went through for the fat bankroll in your pocket. It was a unique time for a restaurant in this day and age: cash only, disposable dishes and utensils, a packed house nightly, sympathy and hyper-gratitude in the tips flowing into our hands left and right.

We were one of the only restaurants open in the entire city after Hurricane Katrina and in addition to that, we had jazz bands play every night of the week. It was full of community spirit and joy- to be back and see the familiar faces of those who waited out the storm, or had the fortune to come back (not to mention something to come back to).

Things were all nice and dandy until a neighbor reported the restaurant for noise disturbances, even though we cut the music at 10pm, and she lived in the FUCKING FRENCH QUARTER, on a busy street. We even knew who she was- she was one of our customers! A friendly one that we liked! This street had been traditionally festive with a casual neighborly style of nightlife for awhile now. Its not like it was Bourbon Street, full of thumping bass, and screaming frat boys celebrating their spring break.

We felt like she just betrayed the whole neighborhood. Personally, I feel like even if you have never been to New Orleans, there is a universal understanding of what kind of neighborhood the French Quarter is: a location in the heart of the city, full of people. This is where people “do things” (wink-wink)… Continue reading

“One of the best things about men…”

“One of the best things about men is their confidence, their rightness, their ability to go with their gut and produce,” says Rochelle Schieck, founder of Qoya. “I rarely overhear men in cafes talking about how differently they could have or should have done something.”

 I found this on a website that has been helpful and encouraging to me during this time where I am trying to write more and discover what holds me back from actually doing it: fear.  I am sure it will inspire you as well!

http://theadventurouswriter.com/blogwriting/doubtful-women-writers-tips-increase-confidence/