There is grime under the espresso machines. There is milk on the walls, in the cupboards, smeared across the windows. The drains are clogged with Splenda packets and broken straws. We are too busy to clean. We have to be ready, if customers come.
I worked at Starbucks for a solid two years, and I tell you, that kind of work fucks you up. You push yourself so hard in pursuit of profits, suffer so much, but no matter what you do or how committed you are, no matter how much money you single-handedly bring in, the greatest reward you can ever hope for is a pat on the back. But if you don’t work your ass off and get milk in your hair and burn your hands making Americanos too fast, you lose your job, and best of luck getting a new one without a good reference.
I had a really, really bad day. I got fed up. I wrote this. I showed it to my whole store, and they laughed and groaned and said “yeah, this is about how it is,” and now that I don’t work there anymore and can’t get fired for talking shit about my employer, I’m showing it to you.
Profit is an unfeeling god. The siren is an eldritch horror. That part is 100% factually true.