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Lord Mango

*-TOO MUCH INFORMATION

So, here's the deal man. The total deal.

At Sbux, we have these things called Green Apron cards. We're supposed to give out at least two a week to our fellow partners, acknowledging their efforts. We're supposed to, but we're lax. Maybe you'll get one if you do something really special. Categories are considerate, knowledgeable, genuine, welcoming, and involved. When you get five cards your supposed to turn them in and get a pin for that category. There's a big apron in the back room, with pockets for everybody, one to each to keep their cards.

One of our partners... who's a really nice person, I do like her as a person, but christ she drives me batshit on the job... this person took it upon herself to go through everyone's cards and find out who had fives and stapled them together, put them in a bag hung up for our new manager to order the pins when she comes back from vacation. I know what she did because she wrote a note on the bag. I had two each of involved, genuine, and welcoming and one knowledgeable (I refuse to finish my coffee passport. I can't write "tastes like ground tree bark" for all of them.) I had five considerate (snort!) cards, so my name was up there for a considerate pin.

Um, no. I love the cards themselves, getting support and appreciation from your fellow partners is wonderful. But a pin? No. I don't need pin. I don't want a damn pin, I don't want a pat on the head from corporate. They get presented to you in front of everybody...well, not every single partner...just who ever is working at the time, but they'll call attention to you and I don't want it, NO. I'd lose it anyway. I stopped wearing my other two pins (don't care about the barista certification...barista certification from Starbucks...yeah, right...I do like my tea passport pin though...it's a cute little teapot) because everytime I washed my aprons I had to take them off and I would lose them. They're sitting in my nightstand drawer now.

So it annoys me that this woman would take this on herself, assume I want this.

And then there's the selfish little part of me that doesn't want my damn cards touched. They're MINE. Stop touching my stuff. They take the cards away you know...once you get five, they order the pin and they take the cards. So instead of all those nice words from my work friends I'd have a piece of cheap enamelled metal. I want my cards, they're my little jewels to read and smile over.

So I opened up the bag and took out my cards. I scribbled my name out. Then I got the rest of my cards out of the apron and I brought them all home. And if I get anymore I'll just bring those home too.