The Band-Aid Barista Fiasco

Between freshman and sophomore years of college, I was in need of some quick, easy cash. So I began searching for a summer job. Becoming a Starbucks barista seemed like the best option—good pay, easy work and close to home. So I stopped in the Bridgehampton Starbucks, filled out an application, met with the manager for an interview and was offered a job on the spot.

At the time, I was thrilled to have my first “real” job. That is, before I knew what I was getting myself into.

Well, it wasn’t all bad. When I look back, I do value my work experience for having introduced me to the working world. It gave me first-hand exposure to the sometimes harsh realities of serving others. And not just any others, but bratty, spoiled Hamptonites.

Having to deal with belligerent customers was, at times, the least of my problems. One day, I was cutting open a package of mocha powder with a pair of scissors, and I cut my finger.

I ran to the back room to run it under cold water and wrapped it up with a band-aid.

A couple of hours later, I was going about my business when I noticed the band-aid was no longer on my finger. Hardly thinking twice about it, I continued making the frappacinno mix and shelved the bin in my part of the fridge.

The next afternoon was a madhouse. The customer line was going out the front door, and the fraps seemed to be the most popular.

Quickly running out of mix in the front area, I called out, “Can someone grab me a full mix bin from the back? I just made some yesterday.”

“Sure!” said my co-worker, Jenn Horowitz.

She came back looking very disturbed. “I need to show you something in the back,” she said.

“Are you kidding? The line’s out the door. I can’t just abandon my station,” I said.

“It’ll just take a second,” she said.

“Fine, one second,” I said.

I was now quite intrigued as to what momentous thing Jenn had to show me that couldn’t wait.

I followed her to the back room.

“When I was pouring your mix into the pitcher, I found something in it,” she said.

‘Oh no,’ I thought, ‘it couldn’t be…’

And, alas, there it was. My soggy, bloody band-aid loosely hanging from the side of the mix bin.

Frozen, I stared at it, not having a clue what to say to Jenn.

Completely humiliated and grossed out, I muttered, “Oh…thanks for catching that,” washed out the bin full of mix, placed it in the dishwasher and hurried back to my station.

I came in to work the next day with a queasy stomach. What if Jenn hadn’t noticed the band-aid? What if we had served a frappacino with that mix?

As I quietly went about restocking the coffee bag section, my boss walked in for the first time that day and instantly approached me. “Good morning, Aline, can we have a talk?

“Sure,” I said, thinking, ‘Shit. Now I’m getting fired from my very first job. This will look great on the resume.’

We sat down in the back room.

“Aline, I was informed this morning about the band-aid incident.”

“Yeah, I figured you had been,” I said. “I was going to come and talk to you about it, but I didn’t see you yesterday or this morning.”

“Look,” he said. “It was a potentially disastrous accident that could have led to the closing of our store. But, all’s well that ends well. Just be a bit more careful next time.”

Phew. I wasn’t fired.

“Thank you so much for your understanding,” I replied. “I was mortified beyond belief about it.” Not knowing what else to say, I added, “I will never let it happen again.”

And that was only one of many nightmarish experiences during my time as a Starbucks barista.