I am a barista. I get paid minimum wage. I burn myself constantly. I go into work clean, and leave with too many stains on my arms. My war wounds I call them. I am super nice to my amazing customers. I am super nice to the not so amazing customers. I have been doing this for only six months, but I love what I do. I am hanging up my green apron. The only one I ever got during my orientation because they where short the other apron. When I eventually got the other apron, I didn’t have the heart to wear it. I kept with my ratty, shaprie stained green apron. I had amazing partners by my side. Ready to start the day, either it was crazy, or slow. We all knew what we where doing, and worked so well together. I am leaving my Starbucks for another cafe job. It wasn’t something I wanted to do. I didn’t want to leave my store. My people. My customers. Due to personal reasons, I had to. I loved every minute of it though. Even the days I wanted to pull out my hair, or go cry in the back room. I still loved every minute. My replacement has been hired already, and over at my new job I am someones replacement. I love what I do. I love making drinks, and making people so happy with that drink. My green apron is being hung, but never tossed. I will wear a new green apron, I will wear it with pride.