Hasta Barista, Baby

Vanilla syrup – three pumps.

2% milk poured into a silver pitcher, steamed to 143 degrees after being aerated for three seconds.

Two shots of espresso in little, clinking glasses poured through the thin layer of foam into the bubbling milk.

A gentle cascade of caramel, first up and down seven times –

Left and right seven times –

Around in one circle –

And then another.

One perfect, Grande Caramel Macchiato, made exactly to Arnold’s specifi—

Shit. Arnold likes his drinks at the kids’ temperature.

Faster, now. Arnold has been waiting for his drink for three minutes, and there are now two frappuccinos in line to be made.

Vanilla syrup – four pumps.

Shit! It’s a Grande. Start again.

Vanilla syrup – three pumps.

2% milk poured into a silver pitcher, aerated for three seconds, steamed to 120 degrees because Arnold has the patience of a three-year-old and the pain tolerance to match. I avoid looking in the direction of the hand-off counter.

Two shots of—

Dammit! The shots finished before the milk and sat out too long.

Two new shots of espresso poured through the foam. There are now five drinks to be made after this, and the person taking orders has had to step over to the cold bar to start the fraps because I haven’t gotten one drink out in the past five minutes.

Caramel drizzle. Squeezing the bottle too hard, ease up. Add an extra crosshatch for the wait.

“Arnold, I have your caramel macchiato at a reduced temperature!” Don’t look; just set it down and start the next hot drink.

Venti Dirty Chai – easy.

Five pumps of chai, two shots of espresso.

2% milk aerated and—

“Excuse me?” Internal sigh. Turn. Smile.

“Oh, Arnold! What can I do for you?”

“My macchiato is too cold. Can you remake it?”