Barista Bubba

Barista Bubba finished swirling the whipped cream on top of the drink, placed it on the bar, and called out, “Half-caf triple grande hazelnut nonfat with whip mocha.”

As the woman grabbed the drink from the bar, Bubba mentioned, “You ticked all the boxes. I’m impressed.” Unfortunately, she was oblivious since it was the morning rush, and she nearly collided into another customer in her hurry out of the Starbucks.

Bubba sighed and wiped his hands on the green apron that adorned his ample girth. He grabbed the next cup in the queue. “Judy, I’m working on your decaf latte.” His flaming red hair cropped atop his head topped off his ruddy appearance. He hummed a happy tune as he pulled the shots. The scent of espresso never got old.

Bubba remembered the day when Judy learned she had uncontrolled anxiety and insomnia. The doctor gave her strict orders to cut back on caffeine. Judy ordered a latte every morning and was loath to give up her established morning drink. Bubba suggested switching to decaffeinated espresso to see if what she loved was the caffeine or just a hot, coffee-flavored drink. He suspected what she really loved was the routine of visiting Starbucks every morning on her way to work, but he kept that to himself. Judy followed his recommendation, determined it worked for her, and never ordered a caffeinated beverage again.

Recently, Bubba visited his doctor. The doctor felt Bubba needed to tackle his high blood pressure, and within the last couple appointments, Bubba entered the obese category. The doctor prescribed regular exercise and recommended cutting red meat out of his diet. Judy and Bubba commiserated over the gall of their respective doctor’s orders, but both knew they were going to do what their doctors ordered.

“Judy, your decaf latte is ready. Give your best at the office today.”

“Thanks, Bubba. I will.” Judy paused with her back against the door. “Do what your doctor says. We need you around here. Have a good day.” She left.

The morning rush got stronger, and Bubba noticed the line of cups growing. “Scott, come double bar with me.” Scott joined the team three years ago and was a dependable partner. Bubba grabbed the next cup and saw it was Vic’s. “Vic, I’m working on your quad Americano.”

Bubba nodded at Vic, a regular for over a decade. Vic smiled back and waited with the burgeoning group at the end of the counter. Bubba set four clean espresso shot glasses under the spouts of the spigots. Scott was steaming enough milk for the next couple of drinks. Bubba pressed the buttons to start pulling the espresso shots. He glanced at the hoppers as the beans were grinding and noted they would need more shortly. He was starting to get into his groove.

Years ago, Vic entered the store depressed and needed a pick-me-up. Bubba gave him an extra shot in his grande drink at the time, on the house. That started a friendship of shooting pool and shooting the breeze on various weekends. Being single and not dating, Bubba could open up time as he needed, and he enjoyed being a listening ear for his customers.

Vic shared about his recent divorce, how work at the shop had been crazy and his wife felt she never saw him anymore. She took up with a colleague at her office and felt horrible about it. She had never wanted it to happen, and Vic knew if he had been present more, it might not have.

Bubba knew what it felt like to lose a wife. His wife, Wendy, passed away three years into their marriage. Wendy was his high school sweetheart, and they reconnected right after college. By then, Wendy already knew about her brain tumor. Even though they suspected Wendy would not live long, they still decided to marry and to make the most of what time they could. They stretched their finances to enjoy one trip to Europe. Wendy went into the hospital about two months after they returned. She passed away two weeks later.

Even though Vic’s situation was different, Bubba provided encouragement and a shoulder to cry on. Bubba also knew Marcie, a lady friend who was single and appreciated cars and machinery and shop talk. He proffered the introductions, and after a couple years, Vic and Marcie walked down the aisle as husband and wife. Bubba even stood for them as a groomsman and felt so blessed to be part of their story. Vic tried to return the favor by setting Bubba up on dates, but Bubba was happy remaining single. He loved Wendy and desired no one else.

Vic took over the auto body shop after another few years. His beverage increased in size and shots shortly after. Vic and Bubba no longer spent as much time together, but Bubba was happy for Vic and Marcie and became godfather to their first child, Brendan James. (James was Bubba’s given name.)

“Vic, your latte is up. How’s Marcie?

“Doing great. Little Betty is due in another couple of months.”

“I’m so happy for you two.”

“Thanks. You have a good day, Bubba.”

Bubba grabbed a foil bag of espresso beans, cut it open, and emptied the contents into the open hopper. Scott replaced the lid, and they were off again. “Jun, you’re sugar-free vanilla breve latte is coming up.”

Jun was on the Atkins diet, which had coursed through the country two decades ago. Bubba tried the Atkins diet then but stopped soon after when he was gaining, not losing, weight. Granted, he did not give up carbs so kind of missed the main point of the diet. Jun, evidently, was an ardent follower and a petite woman of Asian descent who probably did not need to be on any diet.

“Jun, your latte is ready. How are stocks today?”

“Lousy.” Jun was a high-powered executive at a local brokerage. “The year started out good with the Olympics, but after the invasion, the market’s been really volatile.” The invasion was Russia advancing into Ukraine back in February.

“Should I sell?” Bubba trusted Jun’s judgement.

“Hold what you have.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Find a tech company working in AI, that’s artificial intelligence, and buy stocks there. I think that’s going to be the next big thing.”

Bubba took out the pad he kept in his pocket and took notes. He knew about AI, but he also knew to not interrupt Jun. “Thanks, have a good day. I hope the market gets better for you.”

“It’s going to be some time. See you tomorrow.”

Several cold drink orders were in queue next, and Scott worked on those. Bubba grabbed the next cup after that set. “Amanda, I’m working on your soy latte.”

Now Amanda was a curious customer. She was not quite a regular, but was around enough that Bubba got to know her. She had a yen for the finer things, but Bubba would not call her supercilious. She was young. She liked women. She was still a she but was open to other genders. Amanda became vegan a few years back but experienced significant angst over giving up her celebratory lattes. Bubba introduced her to soy milk, which relieved her so much she actually cried.

Amanda asked Bubba one day why he was still single. Bubba told her about Wendy and how he really had no interest in being with anyone else. He simply loved the friends he had around him now. Amanda got very quiet, and a tear appeared in one eye. She gave Bubba a big hug, told him how special he made her feel and never asked him again about his love life.

“Amanda, your soy latte is on the bar.”

“Thanks, Bubba. I hope you have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

The morning rush was slowing a bit. Scott went out to check on the café, leaving Bubba to bar alone again. Bubba grabbed the next cup. “Mphatso, your extra foamy cappuccino will be up soon.”

Mphatso gave his curt nod, and Bubba smiled. Bubba befriended Mphatso when he first came to the States over a decade ago. At the time, he was terribly homesick for Angola, but his family had fled the violence following some controversial constitutional changes, and he knew he would not be going back. Despite Obama as the first Black president at the time, being Black and an immigrant was difficult.

Bubba took Mphatso under his wing for a few years. He worked with Mphatso to improve his English, wrote recommendations for schools and jobs, introduced him to other customers around his age, and prayed for him fervently. He even stopped Mphatso from changing his name to Mat, encouraging him to embrace his ethnicity and to be patient with Americans who struggled pronouncing his name. In time, Mphatso grew to love the States and joined a non-profit helping other immigrants navigate the transition to life in America.

Bubba experimented until he could make a cappuccino that reminded Mphatso of those he loved in Angola, rich and creamy with a generous layer of extra foam.

“Mphatso, I have your cappuccino.”

“Thank you, my friend. Have a blessed day.”

“You as well, friend. God be with you.”

One cup remained on the bar. Carlita. Bubba smiled. Carlita liked trying the new drinks and seasonal offerings, and when she found one she liked, she stayed with it until the next season came along.

“Carlita, I’ll have your Iced Chocolate Almondmilk Shaken Espresso ready in a moment.”

Carlita was involved in a terrible car accident about five years prior that left her paralyzed from the waist down. Bubba met her on his way to work one day the following summer. She was crying while maneuvering her wheelchair down the sidewalk. Bubba asked her what was wrong, and Carlita was flabbergasted that he would ask, given her obviously disabled condition. Bubba invited her into the store to enjoy a coconut mocha, his treat, so he could listen to her story and pray for her. Carlita was touched by his gesture and from that day, often wheeled into Starbucks to try the new beverage and to watch people come and go.

Bubba loved bantering with Carlita. If ever he had a day when he felt down, he prayed that Carlita would appear. If she did, her smile and chatter would lighten his mood. They could talk about any topic, and even when they disagreed, they debated cordially, actually appreciating each other’s differences and poking holes in each other’s theories on life. (Okay, so from time to time, Carlita could really get under his skin and irritate him. It was worth it, though.) Carlita was a good friend.

“Carlita, your drink is ready.” Bubba caught Carlita’s eye. “I can bring it to you, if you’d prefer.”

“Yes, please,” Carlita responded. “Thanks, Bubba.”

“My pleasure.”

Bubba took his break at that point since the line was short, and the other partners were competent. When he returned, he grabbed a wet cloth and checked the café, wiping down surfaces and pushing chairs back against tables. A man sitting near one of the windows flagged him.

“Can I get you anything?” Bubba asked.

The man smiled, and his eyes kept a steady gaze. “I’ve only been here a few times, but I can tell how much you care about your customers.”

Bubba started to blush. “I’ve been working here a while. I’ve gotten to know most of the people who stop in, and they stop in often. We are the third place, after all.”

The man stood and grabbed his belongings. “I just wanted to make sure that you realized people notice what you do for them, what you are for them.” He grabbed his cup, which was empty.

“Thank you,” said Bubba. He held out his hand for the cup. “I can take that for you.” The gesture allowed him to break eye contact for a moment and clear his throat.

The man handed him the cup. “I appreciate it. You have a good day.”

“Thanks, I will.”

The man nodded his head once and walked out of the store into a soft rain.

Bubba remained in place for a moment, fixing the face of the man in his memory, assuming the man would return someday. He chided himself for not asking for the man’s name, but that would come later. Bubba watched the rain water the thirsting city and thanked the Lord for the small sign of being noticed.