There I was, standing in front of my standing mirror, staring at a woman I almost didn’t recognize. I had just gotten promoted to partner at the civil rights law firm where I worked – and also Tim may have broken up with me that day but I don’t remember. Sure, I had affected more workplace improvement for migrant workers than any other litigator in history, and sure, I loved what I did, but something just didn’t feel right.
I knew I had to make a decision right then and there before it was too late: Stay at a job that paid me well and that I was very passionate about and enhanced the lives of others, or give it up to follow my very new passion of becoming a professional coffee artist, maybe at the café where Tim goes because it is like super close to my apartment so it just makes sense.
So the next day I said goodbye to all my confused and upset clients (good riddance), threw my briefcase in the trash, picked up a bunch of those wooden sticks that I think you stir coffee with, and headed toward my new destiny, which is also where Tim happens to go a lot but that has nothing to do with this.
As total randomness would have it, I ended up getting the job at that very café. I had heard that an employee there had recently gone missing under totally unsuspicious circumstances, so I jumped at the opportunity.
I was a little nervous to say the least, but not having any experience as a barista was NOT going to stop me from doing this job! Kip, the 19-year-old boy training me, was at first confused and perplexed by how overqualified I was. When he asked why I wanted the job, I told him: “Kip, it has always been my dream to work that big machine that makes the brown stuff come out, and by the way I risked everything to take this job and see what piece of human garbage Tim is sitting with over there.
That apron was tied around my waist before I could say, “I have a grandé cup of maturity for Tim! Grandé cup of maturity for Tim. Hi, Tim. I can see you.”
I have been working at my dream job now for four months, and the smell of coffee still makes me gag at least twice a day. But I sure as hell know I made the right decision every day I see Tim with his new long-armed girlfriend Terry, which is a boy’s name. I took a risk by changing careers, and because of that risk, I get to follow my passion as well as keep tabs on Tim’s romantic situations. I feel so good about life that I don’t even miss health insurance or living in a house that is not a car.
Needless to say, I am living proof that if you follow your dreams and jump without a parachute, sometimes the universe grants you a safe landing in the café where Tim goes.
