Our friend D. works at that shop. As with many others, this was supposed to be a temporary job after his full time employment laid him off two years ago. Recently, a company came knocking on his door (unsolicited!) offering full time work. He had a decision to make, and while talking to his pastor about it, was asked, "Is this something you could feel passionate about?" The answer was no, and D. turned down the job. Almost at the same time, he was chosen as one of only 1000 Starbucks employees in the country to be flown to Seattle for a special training session.
He sees possibilities for himself in the organization, not just in the store but in the distribution centers and elsewhere. But as he admitted, he really enjoys the customer interaction, and he is really, really good at it. It does rather raise the question for the rest of us, though, are we passionate about what we do? And if not, are we willing to do what is necessary to change that?
A bit later, a woman I know from the church I used to attend came in - we used to be AWANA leaders and choir members together, and hadn't seen one another in over five years. God is working wonderful things in her life. Her family found a smaller church to attend, and T. was at the Starbucks for Bible study - which made me laugh, since I've done the same thing at that shop, but on a different night (did I mention the management there rocks?). In the "has it really been that long?" vein, her daughter, who was a gangly tween the last time I saw her, is a freshman this year at my alma mater. So good to see her.
When I pulled up at home, I looked up and caught sight of the full moon, unexpected, since it had been overcast all day. Pure white against a navy sky, it had the look of a winter moon - not sure I can explain what I mean, but there is a certain austere coldness to the full moon in winter, a diamond hardness that isn't there in the spring and summer. This morning, as I got out of the car at work, I saw the same moon on its way down, closer to the horizon, looming larger and warmer. Gorgeous.
Speaking of gorgeous, there is a young man who works at the Starbucks we went to last night who is, just on facial features alone, very handsome. But what puts him over the top, and probably makes him a chick magnet, are the dreadlocks.
Don't believe me on the chick magnet thing? Witness Jason Momoa (Stargate:Atlantis):
Yeah. The clerk's hair is slightly lighter in color than this, and the last time I was in reached just past his waist. It's been well over nine months since I've been there, and his hair now brushes the backs of his knees.
Inquiring minds want to know:
Dude, how much does all that hair weigh?
If it is that long dry, how long is it wet?
Contrary to popular rumor, dreads need to be washed regularly in order to, well, not stink, but also maintain quality. The mind boggles at the time it would take to squeeze shampoo out of, and then let air dry, that much hair. I washed my just-beyond-shoulder-length hair two hours ago, and it's still dampish.
Enough rambling for now. I've been out the last two nights, but will get to the promised Whole Foods post soon - ish.
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