Happiness is fleeting. It comes and goes. It makes out with us behind the bar and then suddenly ghosts. It gives us the weekend or week or month of a lifetime, and then has to go back home.
Truthfully, a part of me wishes I could go back in time to when I was able, just to savor that sweet taste of independence for one more second, but life doesn’t exactly operate like that.
You learn the procedures, you become familiar with how the different coffee tastes and what it mixes well with. It’s not some magical set of spells and incantations that you learn over high-moon ceremonies as you sacrifice a chicken with your shift manager–it’s making god damn espresso.