Corporate "competition"
I peruse craigslist (and various other sites) for hours a day, looking for another job because I pretty much loathe working at the Corporate Coffee Shop. Somewhere deep in my contract it is stated that I cannot work for "competitors" - namely Coffee Bean, Caribou, blah blah, or any establishment that sells over priced coffee drinks.
I'm not kidding. They own my mad barista skills. And yes, I have mad barista skills. Too bad I have many other amazing skills that this completely awful economy won't bank in on. That and I have a degree in the arts. I'm screwed. That's why I make lattes. Well, that and health insurance.
My POINT is this:
In the spring of 2004 a little cafe opened up the street from my house. The owners know my mom. The place is called Red Dog Cafe, and it's totally awesome because they have all this dog decor and they allow you to bring your dogs to eat with you on the outside patio. It's a yuppy's dream.
Before I moved to LA I entertained the thought of living in DC for a while, or at home for a few months and getting a job at Red Dog. I thought it'd be pretty awesome to work for a non-The Man establishment, up the street from where I live where everybody'd know my name and yadda yadda. The owner was thrilled that I knew how to make espresso drinks (and this is before my Corporate Coffee Shop days) and offered me a job. I declined.
Today, while looking for jobs, I found this.
And now not only am I completely furious and angry and completely depressed that I work at the Corporate Coffee Shop, but I really want to work as a barista at this little cafe just to fuck (sorry, had to say it) everything about the job I have now.
I'm that angry.
Plus I hate corporate america and every time I walk into work I feel like a little part of my soul dies.
When will this country learn to support bright, fun, smart, arts-focused people like me? I'd much rather make lattes for people who tie their dogs up outside while they walk through the neighborhood than make frappuccino's (I mean, some sort of blended beverage that will disguise the name of the place at which I am currently employed) for rich Bethesda pre-teen brats who carry Coach bags, iron their hair and talk on their cell phones all the time.
Things like this remind me why I moved to California.
I'm not kidding. They own my mad barista skills. And yes, I have mad barista skills. Too bad I have many other amazing skills that this completely awful economy won't bank in on. That and I have a degree in the arts. I'm screwed. That's why I make lattes. Well, that and health insurance.
My POINT is this:
In the spring of 2004 a little cafe opened up the street from my house. The owners know my mom. The place is called Red Dog Cafe, and it's totally awesome because they have all this dog decor and they allow you to bring your dogs to eat with you on the outside patio. It's a yuppy's dream.
Before I moved to LA I entertained the thought of living in DC for a while, or at home for a few months and getting a job at Red Dog. I thought it'd be pretty awesome to work for a non-The Man establishment, up the street from where I live where everybody'd know my name and yadda yadda. The owner was thrilled that I knew how to make espresso drinks (and this is before my Corporate Coffee Shop days) and offered me a job. I declined.
Today, while looking for jobs, I found this.
And now not only am I completely furious and angry and completely depressed that I work at the Corporate Coffee Shop, but I really want to work as a barista at this little cafe just to fuck (sorry, had to say it) everything about the job I have now.
I'm that angry.
Plus I hate corporate america and every time I walk into work I feel like a little part of my soul dies.
When will this country learn to support bright, fun, smart, arts-focused people like me? I'd much rather make lattes for people who tie their dogs up outside while they walk through the neighborhood than make frappuccino's (I mean, some sort of blended beverage that will disguise the name of the place at which I am currently employed) for rich Bethesda pre-teen brats who carry Coach bags, iron their hair and talk on their cell phones all the time.
Things like this remind me why I moved to California.
posted by AllDeTime at 10:19 AM
5 Comments:
Why don't you work at Tryst?
Does Starbucks make you sign a contract that you can't work there?
Yeah, pretty much. That's what I'm saying: they own my barista skills. They also took my soul.
I mean, not Starbucks specifically, but the Corporate Coffee Shop where I work. ;)
I've never heard of "Corporate Coffee Shop".
Where is that?
Haha!
It's at the corner of here and everywhere.
Have we met...? You're one of DG's friends, right?
I've met DG once. I'm close friends with Mr. Happy Pants.
(Lonnie Bruner is not my name).
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