I’m a supervisor at Starbucks – and honestly? I’m just winging it. This job demands agility, quick thinking, politeness, and the ability to motivate. My main duty is to “manage the floor” (orchestrate workflow, assign tasks, monitor customer flow, and keep the rhythm).  

It all started with training: company values, coffee brewing, and for us aspiring leaders – supervisor bootcamp. At first, I was just another trainee learning from my future subordinates, absorbing their wisdom while building camaraderie. Then one day – poof – the hierarchy flipped.  

A supervisor’s core mission? Motivate the team, cultivate the café’s vibe, ensure everything runs smoothly, and lead by example. That means hauling trash, getting baptized by spilled milk from half-empty jugs, and yes, scrubbing toilets without a flinch. I assign roles – no one’s just a barista, cashier, or drive-thru operator here. Everyone rotates to avoid burnout. My word is final, but not as a command more like a persuasive plea with reasoning:  

– Paul, you’re on bar!”

– “Why? I don’t wanna!”

Ah, the classic boundary test.  

Possible responses are jumping in my head:  

“Because a customer just ordered ‘the coffee I got yesterday’ – and yesterday, you made it. (Only works if the tone’s already “we’re all friends here.” Otherwise they’ll report your aggressive behaviour).

So better go with cheesy and complimenting one: 

Because your latte art is a Van Gogh masterpiece!” (Risk: eye-rolls.)  

—  

Day One as “General Coffee”

My new friends are now my subordinates. I completely forgot today was Opération Neptune (my D-Day of delegation). They approach one by one:  

– Where am I today?

I blank. “You’re here! With us!” I pat their back, snapping out of my dissociative daze.  

The next soldier:  

– What’s my position?”

My mind, ever-helpful, first goes filthy, then military. I envision a battlefield – me as the rookie general deploying troops.  

I did it! Everyone’s assigned, everyone’s brilliant. I strut around, doling out praise, briefly reveling in my faux authority – until reality checks me.  

Where do I belong?

Ah yes. I hang my imaginary general’s cap on a hook and haul rancid, milk-sloshing trash bins into the rain. Because nothing humbles like:  

1. Tipping a dumpster to retrieve a stuck bag.  

2. Getting a tidal wave of curdled multispecies milk (2%, whole, skim, lactose-free, almond, soy, coconut, and “oat beverage” – Canada’s term) in your hair.  

3. Suppressing vomit while grinning like a maniac.  

Final Lesson: The fastest way to reboot your ego?  

– Spill apocalyptic dairy blends on yourself.  

– Laugh genuinely. 

– Let your team laugh with you.  

– Return to your post, reeking of existential irony, and chirp:  

“Hello! What can I get you? We’ve got 2%, whole, skim, lactose-free, almond, soy, coconut, and oat beverage!”

Oh yes: The milk will  have its revenge.