Some Change

If I had to boil my career down to  one thing, its change.  Not nickels and dimes, though sometimes it feels like that’s all I make.  I’m thinking more about  implementing changes, communicating changes, helping others see and accept the changes and identifying the  people who won’t accept change and help them find other alternatives.  Like unemployment.  At least three times, I have been on the forefront of wholesale changes in the workplace.  Another couple of times I might have had the idea that lead to significant changes for other.

Keeping that in mind, you should understand that I am great with ambiguity,but there are just some changes I won’t abide.  I know I have a hard time when I get a new boss.  Not when I’m starting a new assignment or job, but when that person changes after I’ve finally broken them in and built trust and respect.  I’m not an easy employee.  I challenge the dominant paradigm.  I make people think and pull their weight.  I solve problems. And if you are reading this, you know I’m not stupid. That scares many  people.  A lot.  I’m their change.  They weren’t expecting me.  I’m tempted to take this in the direction of a horror novel, but no, not today. (But you really should read more Lovecraft.  Seriously.)

This morning, I  walked into my normal Peet’s to grab my coffee.  The office buys and stocks Peet’s here but I don’t like to drink it.  Why?  It is stale. I realized that most of the coffee we drink is 2-4 months AFTER the roasting date.  Now I know why the taste is underwhelming.  In Peet’s today, the coffee urn was broken.  No Drip for YOU!  But the staff was only to happy to offer and make everyone an Americano.  Nice call.  Similar to regular coffee, a bit stronger and more flavor. 

I started thinking.  Perhaps every Peet’s should say “the urn is broken.”  An Americano costs a bit more than drip coffee.  I medium drip is $2.  A medium american with an extra shot (admit it, you want that caffeine rush too) is $3.15.  This was the ultimate marketing up sell.  Or maybe the urn really was broken.

The down side of this was that now everyone, not just half the patrons,  was crowded around the baristas, waiting on their Americanos. With so many people at the espresso bar, inevitably all the lids on the counter were used.  This one man looked lost.  Perhaps lost isn’t the right description.  He more closely resembled one of the walking dead, perplexed at why the locked door didn’t open.  There were plenty of lids at the coffee station at the other end of the store.  But that’s not where HIS lids usually were.  The kind, but edgy  staff almost had to lead him to where the lids ran free and there were plenty for everyone.  While he had his lid, I saw no joy in his eyes.  I couldn’t help but wonder what might make them change.  I quickly left, worried that he might decide he needed some flesh to with his coffee.

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