August 15, 2011


I've made no secret of the fact that I love my job. There are any number of reasons why, but I'll not expound on them here. There is one reason to think that I might better be employed doing something else, however. It's not a complicated matter, and requires only one word in the way of explanation: Pants.

Well, perhaps I'll need a few more.

It's not that I mind wearing them. Ok, it's partially that I mind wearing them. But mostly, it's that I mind what happens to them.

Espresso happens to them. And when espresso happens to a thing, that thing is frequently marked for life. Now I like pants. And, if it comes down to it, I prefer nicer pants to cheaper ones. However, espresso shows no such bias.

It stains Merona to GAP to Levis to Hollister to nicer brands than I can afford. All with equal prejudice.

This is a problem. It's a problem because, unlike cooks, baristas prepare consumables in full view of the public. That necessitates pants, and something beyond the pajama-esque cook attire. But these pants, as we've established, will most likely get stuff on them - either grounds or milk or chocolate or espresso.

The solution? Black jeans. Hipster cred intact, and any stains fully hidden.

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