How Starbucks Saved My Life. Michael Gill

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ your support.”

      “I’m broke.”

      She laughed. Susan had another misapprehension: She thought because I dressed well and seemed well off that I was rich. She had no idea that behind my Ruling Class attitude I was getting poorer every day.

      I had kept my relationship with Susan secret, but when Jonathan was born, I told my wife. She could not stand it.

      “An affair is one thing,” she said. “A child is another.”

      Betsy is very clearheaded.

      “I just can’t do it,” she told me. “I’m not made for this kind of thing.”

      So we got an “amicable” divorce, although she was rightly furious with me for being so stupid.

      “I thought we would spend the rest of our lives together,” she said. I felt terrible.

      My kids, now practically grown-ups, were understanding in a grown-up way, but hurt and angry too. I had given Betsy our big house, and she had enough family money to be okay, but I knew it wasn’t just about money. I had ruined her life.

      And ruined my own life as well.

      I took a small apartment in a New York City suburb. Desperately wanting to do the right thing after doing all the wrong things, I resolved to try to be there for Susan and my new child, Jonathan. I would come by around four or five A.M. and play with Jonathan so Susan could have a little sleep.

      I was doing it out of a sense of obligation. But an unexpected thing happened. I became more and more attached to Jonathan. And he to me. Together, Jonathan and I would watch the dawn. When my other children were young, I did not have the time to watch them catch the wonder of each new moment. I was working twelve-hour days at JWT.

      Here, I was being given another chance to be a father—in many ways, an opportunity I didn’t deserve. I loved to see Jonathan grow before my eyes; to watch as he waved his little hand as though conducting when I would sing a gentle song, or hear him laugh with such uninhibited delight when I threw a stuffed animal up in the air.

      One day, when I was putting my sleeping baby back in his crib, Jonathan opened his eyes and smiled at me. He opened his mouth and out came the beautiful sounds “Da da.” Two simple, heartbreaking syllables. Thinking back to how I had missed such magical moments with my other children caused a physical pain in my chest. And for what? For a company that rewarded my loyalty with a pink slip. I wanted to sit each of my children down and instruct them: You only live one life; take it from me, live it wisely. Weigh your priorities.

      I spent less and less time chasing new clients, and more and more time with Jonathan. He loved me and he needed me. I was somebody wonderful in his eyes.

      Jonathan seemed to be the only one who felt that way these days. Susan had gradually lost interest in me, first as a conversationalist. She told me I was “boring.” I was not open to new ideas. And then she lost interest in me as a lover. She told me I was “too routine.” In a peculiar way, the more available I became to her—after divorcing my wife, and having fewer clients and work to do, more time on my hands—the less appealing I was to her. She imagined me as a man at the top of America, fulfilled, productive, successful, and happy. She got to know me as I was: an insecure little boy not that good at dealing with reality.

      Jonathan was my last fan, and my best pal. But now he had started spending his days in school, so I was left with more time on my hands, fewer excuses for not finding work, and a greater need for a job just for bare survival. Hell, I wasn’t even providing my little boy with health insurance.

      How had I managed to be so incompetent in all of my personal and professional relationships? I tried to clear my mind of all my guilty, negative thoughts and focus on Crystal and this surprising interview. By luck or on a whim, Crystal had given me a chance—maybe my last chance—to stop my downward spiral. I did not want to blow it.

      I looked up at Crystal and tried to give her a confident smile.

      She wasn’t buying it. It was clear that Crystal was balancing a personal dislike for me with her commitment to being a professional. Her store was in desperate need of new workers. And I was desperate for work. Convince her, I told myself. Convince her that this is a match made in heaven. I willed myself to be positive.

      “Now I want to ask you some questions about your work experience,” Crystal said in a cool professional tone.

      I was suddenly very worried. After finding out about the health benefits that Starbucks offered, I really wanted this job. Was Crystal going to be another young woman like Linda White who would end up cutting off my balls? I didn’t care, so long as she hired me.

      “Have you ever worked in retail?”

      Her question startled me.

      I tried desperately to think…. Quick, what is retail?

      “Like a Wal-Mart?” she helped. I sensed, for the first time in the interview, that Crystal might have decided to be on my side. This whole thing had started as a joke or a dare with her, but maybe, just maybe, she had come to see me as a person who really needed some help.

      It suddenly struck me how much a life of entitlement had protected me from the reality everyone else knew so well. Maybe Crystal could help me get a grip, yet I could not even grab the saving rope she had tossed me in this job interview: I had never even been inside a Wal-Mart.

      Crystal made a little mark on her paper and moved on. I felt very nervous. This was not going well.

      “Have you ever dealt with customers in tough situations?” Crystal read the question from the form and then looked up at me. But her eyes were softer; now she seemed to be willing me to answer this question correctly.

      Yet I was still at a loss. Was it tough to talk to the CEO of Ford? Yes, but that wasn’t what was going to get me this job. I remembered that I had done advertising for Burger King and had worked at a store one morning to get a feeling for the business.

      “I worked at Burger King,” I said.

      Crystal gave me a big smile.

      “Good,” she said. “And how did you handle a customer when things went bad?”

      “I listened very carefully to what they were saying, then I tried to correct what was wrong, and then I asked them if I could do anything more.” I spouted gibberish from some forgotten brochure I had written on how to handle bad situations.

      Crystal smiled again and made a mark on the paper.

      “Have you worked with lots of people under tough time pressures?” she asked.

      “Yes,” I said, keeping it vague. Working late on an advertising campaign for Christian Dior was different from serving lattes to hundreds of people on their way to work.

      Crystal ticked down the list. “What do you know about Starbucks? Have you visited our stores?”

      I was off and running. During my job seeking over weeks and months, I had been in many Starbucks around New York. I leapt at the opportunity to show my knowledge. “The Starbucks stores in Grand Central are always busy, and none have seats, СКАЧАТЬ