After a half hour sit down, relax and a quick drink and a sandwich. It’s back to work, and time to prepare for war. Everyone starts working to get themselves ready for the lunch time rush, an inevitability in a coffee shop. Portafilters are cleaned out, the milk fridge fully stocked, and all the barista tools placed in their correct positions. All around me, everything is being stocked up and made ready to go, pastries topped up, cakes laid out, sandwiches in order, and then… here comes the calm before the storm. We wait… I pull a couple of shots, check the timings, and taste for deficiencies. The tamper gets cleaned more times than ever needed, the grinder purged again and again, and I’m getting nervous. And then it starts…

A group of four people come in, a family by the looks of it. Straight away they eye-up the fantastic cake fridge, mentally pick their sandwiches and approach the till. Although I’m on the machine, I’m all ears for whats going on. You never know when a drink is skinny, or single shot, and it’s been missed off the order ticket. In comes the first order. a cappuccino, a latte, a chocolate milk shake, and a coke. And bang, everything goes into slow time. You barely hear the food order come in, but out the corner of your eye you can see the other members of staff start preparing food, heating paninis and preparing plates.

The first step is to always to get the coffee grinder grinding the first shot, luckily, with my foot switch operated timer, I can do this whilst my hands scrabble to unlock the portafilter. With a well rehearsed procedure, the portafilter is banged into the knock-box with one hand, whilst my other gets the group flushing. I reach blindly for my tee-towel, but always find it, as long as its where I left it. I dry out the portafilter, and start dosing, The first thwacking of the lunchtime echoes around the slowly filling shop. I pause midway, rap the portafilter down, and finish dosing before turning to tamp. As I turn, my foot taps the switch to start my next shot of coffee going, whilst still tamping the first shot. It’s always the same; light tamp, bang the portafilter down, heavy tamp, polish, roll, one more polish, lock and go. The shot starts, and my hand shoots up to reach for a cup to catch the espresso. Before it even starts dripping out, the second portafilter is unlocked, and it starts over again.

By the time I get to the milk, another order ticket has come in. I see that its just one single shot cappuccino, so make sure that I steam a little more milk to save me steaming milk again for the next drink. The second the milk is steamed. I bang the jug down to break any bubbles, and race to the ice bucket to prepare the milk shake, on the way I pick up a coke from the fridge, a couple of glasses, and fill one with ice. In one smooth motion, I throw the ice into the blendtec, a couple of scoops of chocolate powder, some milk and drop the lid to start the blending. I open the coke bottle with a teaspoon as my bottle opener isn’t easily at hand, a skill learnt through working in a coffee bar for sure. And get straight back to my milk. After a quick swirl, I pour off enough milk for the small cappuccino, and get to work pouring the cappuccino and the latte. The cappuccino is poured in just a couple of seconds, the latte takes longs to ensure the perfect rosetta or tulip. They are placed onto saucers, line-up the spoon with the handle, place the coke on the side, finish the milkshake, and bang, the order has gone. I check the time on the ticket to compare it to the till, two minutes and thirty seconds, not bad for four drinks. Straight away I jump onto finishing the small cappuccino, and the other countless drink orders coming in.

Over the lunch, its non-stop, no chance to think, every now and again I get a chance to throw a glass of water down my neck to keep me going. Every order has to go out in less than ten minutes, meaning sometimes you are working on four orders at one time. And it’s not just drinks, everyone is involved with everything, jumping on the till, taking off sandwiches, and helping wash and dry. It’s like a complicated, but synchronised dance. It’s almost a shame the customer doesn’t get an insight into this compex, but oiled machine. They don’t get to hear the quiet talking underneath the surface. “that’s a one-shot drink chris”, “did you get the cake for table four”, “can they even taste the coffee under all that milk”, “it’s going to the guy with the scary hair”. All said under the breath, sometimes not even picked up by the person it’s aimed at. Every now and again someone comes in for a chat. Not a great time, but somehow I switch onto autopilot, arms and legs synced in the art of the barista, whilst talking about the night before, or the latest piece of gossip.

During the lunch time rush, the hierarchy is dropped. When things work properly, no-one takes charge, everything is done, with everyone leading their own particular task, drinks are taken by whoever is available to take drinks. If I need something, I shout for it, and if someone else shouts for something, I get it for them, it’s just how it works.

As the lunch rush comes to an end, things get chaotic, everyone tires, frustrations flare up, comments are snapped more than intended, and orders barked with tedious frequency. I check the time on the till, one thirty, it should start tailing off soon. Slowly the order tickets are reduced, the washing up pile goes down, and stock is taken of the sandwiches. Apologies are made, mistakes excused, and unnoticed spills wiped up. The lunch rush is over, we get a brief chance to debrief, work out what mistakes were made, who’s fault they were, and how to avoid it next time. We complain about problem customers, comment on the high-tippers and generally just breath a joint sigh of relief. Finally, breaks are given out, and I get the second chance of the day to sit, have a coffee, and take stock on a busy lunch time…

Continued tomorrow

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