Ah. Soon, no longer will I be the downtrodden Barista, the lowest of the low, lapping at the most pathetic rung of the career ladder, only just above sewer rats and toenail clippings. No, soon I will be promoted to my new glorious title of Shift Leader. I will have respect from those above me and my very own underlings to degrade, humiliate and perform all the rancid tasks that I do not wish to do.
They can mop and scrub while I busy myself with paper work (and when I saw paper work I mean fag breaks). No longer with I have to have my arm thrust halfway down a u-bend unclogging several days worth of human waste. I can just summon one of the more junior staff members to do it. I can sit atop a tower of my own ego and command them from up high, and if they even so much as glance at me with disloyal eyes at my abhorrent behaviour I will strike them down with my almighty hammer of judgment. I will have them fired for insubordination. The Court Martial will be a very prominent threat while I am in charge.
Or not.
No, what will really happen is that I will get a minor pay rise, a brain crushing amount of new responsibility, more bureaucratic and corporate pressure pushing down on my shoulders and nothing to show for it other than contempt from those below me and a look of inferiority from those above. In the world of the coffeeshop it seems the further uphill you progress the more if feels like you are being kicked down.
Or another way to look at it is that the more you progress the more you are assimilating with machine and soon all your cognitive functions will be operating with terrible synchronisation to the Coffee Reich that you belong to.
Oh well. Time to plug myself back in.
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