The Rush Job

The Rush Job

Something that I’ve always enjoyed while working is the rush that comes from having to work and perform in a high-pressure, short-timeframe situation. Facing (and thriving in) that type of circumstance is, for me, one of the great pleasures (perhaps even best described as a spiritual pleasure) of work.

So exactly what type of scenario am I referring to? I’m speaking of those moments when, in the face of an unexpected deadline[1] or other externally imposed temporal constraint, one has to perform at their highest level in order to produce creative and/or skilled work that is both reflective of their expertise and satisfactory to the work’s recipient. Although I’ve faced this kind of situation many times, the first occasion that I clearly remember is the Friday night, post-movie drink rush at Java Jeff’s coffeehouse where I worked as a barista.[2]

Java Jeff’s was located a short walk away from the Squirrel Hill Cinemas – a local, three-screen[3] movie theater. In the mid-evenings, especially on Friday nights, the movies would let out and large streams of moviegoers[4] would come into the café. Ostensibly, they wanted drinks, but what they really wanted was to continue their evening. They wanted to keep the feeling that they were out their daily life, that they were engaging with the city, the film they had just seen, and the people with whom they may have seen it. Java Jeff’s was an excellent place for all of these things, but it was, of course, predicated on the notion that the drink[5] is a necessary precondition for this engagement. It was my job to make sure the customers got their drinks.

Since these beverages, although delicious, were more than drinks-in-themselves, since they were, rather, the key component to an entire experience, speed was of the essence. Each minute that a customer spends in line is one more minute in which their sense of engagement with the evening can evaporate. If that feeling disappears, so do they. They knew they shouldn’t be having that caffeine at 9pm, but they wanted, needed to sustain that feeling of engagement, of now-ness that one had when leaving the cinema on a Friday night in 1994. Even if they stayed, more time in line equals less time enjoying themselves. Less enjoyment equals fewer tips. Such is the algebra of the employee.

During a peak-season post-movie rush there would likely be three of us working behind the counter. Optimally, two of us would be making drinks, the second one gliding over to the cool case in order to cut slices of cake or grab a canned or bottled beverage. The third would take the initial orders and operate the register. However, complications would often arise, especially if the rush were sustained. If we were out of a certain size or style of cup, then dishes would need to be done. If the line was long enough that seated customers finished and left while we were still taking and making[6], then the tables would need to be bussed. If you bused enough tables or even just one or two larger groups, then the dirty dishes would stack higher than the sink and more dishes would need to be done. It was at these moments when the switch would flip from working hard to hardly working and the post-movie rush became the rush of the rush job.

Together, we moved like some kind of post-industrial café au ballet: As Person-A turned 180^º from the espresso machine to the counter, handing a customer their drink, Person-B took two steps to the right while making an about-face twirl so as to find himself at the sink that had, only a moment before been vacated by Person-C, who left the safety of the counter to make a busing run. In no more time than it takes the next customer to collect the necessary amount of breath required to order, the dishes are in the sink and C is already starting to pull the next shots of espresso – a sacramental wine for our Gen-X trinity, practicing a religion that was, for some reason, called slack.

At these moments you do not have time to think and, so, you do not think, you do. You do not have time to guess, so you do not second-guess yourself. Your thought is unified with your action and, because of this, the internal critic is silenced[7]. You become the end result of your training, your knowledge, and your practice. If your skills are successfully ingrained, if your knowledge is properly inculcated, then you, without thinking, will likely do your work at a very high level, because, at these moments, you are your skills, you are your training, and you are your team.

Although I probably wouldn’t enjoy it if every hour of every day required the level of intensity and performance required by ‘the rush job,’ I relish the opportunity to perform in those situations, look back with pride at the work done, and still benefit from the experiences gained.

[1] That is to say a situation that did not arise from poor planning or work habits.

[2] The actual term barista, however, was not in use at that time. I was referred to as an employee.

[3] The astute reader may have inferred that I’m hoping to use as many hyphenated terms as possible without it becoming an affectation from over-use⁴. I’ve also chosen to employ footnotes at my every convenience.

[4] I did not, for example, write “movie-goer” although I did indicate this footnote in two different places.

[5] Or, perhaps more properly, the beverage

[6] orders and beverages, that is.

[7] This is for the reason that, since thought and action are unified, it is not possible for thought to position itself outside of the action and is, therefore, unable to critically reflect upon it.