Giving (And Taking) Notice

I did something big last week. I gave my notice at Starbucks.

On the surface, this appears to be nothing too huge. After all, having been employed there nearly nine years, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Working in a coffee shop normally represents a transient position for most individuals, the one where you casually buy some time until the "right" job comes along. But not me. I made a career out of it. For me, it was the right job, and for a very long time.

I can remember way back in 2003 being an avid Starbucks customer, with a pricey two-a-day habit forming rather quickly. I would stop in for my white chocolate mocha on the way to work (not every morning, just the ones where I wanted to feel really, really good) and then proceed to suck down some form of frothy blended beverage (usually caramel) after lunch. Though I didn't spend much time loafing around the stores, those few magic minutes I would spend at Starbucks became my favorite part of most days. The employees were friendly and efficient, and often knew my drink before I had to utter a word (grande non-fat with whip white chocolate mocha, please!). Oh and yes, I was one of those people, the ones who balanced the whipped cream out with skim milk. So there. Sue me.

To be honest, I could have cared less what anyone thought. I just wanted the goods. Something about the sugary taste and fragrantly caffeinated aroma of that perfectly-concocted white chocolate deliciousness in the morning could make me sigh audibly and crack a huge smile within seconds of its first toasty-warm kiss upon my lips. Ooooo weeee. It sure was love at first sip. Damn, how I loved my coffee back then. And I certainly grew to love Starbucks. It was my home away from home, the place where I could affordably indulge in some legal drugs, escape from my unfathomably dull desk job, and of course, get a little (or not so little) buzz going. As I poured more and more of my hard-earned money into the place, I started to think I should just work there. I mean, I would get to drink free coffee all day while working, get a 30% discount when I wasn't behind the counter, and get a free pound of coffee every single week. All that, and I would even get a paycheck. Bonus!

So in May 2003, I decided to apply for a part-time job there, weekends only since I already had full-time work. Ten hours per week was all I wanted. I got hired on the spot. I remember thinking that acquiring this little job was somehow going to be much bigger to the whole of my life than it seemed at first. Boy, was that prophetic.

Here are some of the numbers: Worked in three different states over eight-plus years, transferring from Georgia to California to Hawaii. Managed two stores. Held all four possible positions in the retail stores, some of them more than once (e.g. right now I am on my second tour as shift supervisor). Made countless friends, connections, and acquaintances in every single place I worked. Not too shabby for what began as nothing more than a way to help pay for my burgeoning caffeine addiction.

Starbucks certainly turned out to be a good fit for me. I would even say it fit me like a glove, and would probably say it was the job most appropriate to who I have been during this most recent phase of life. I somehow landed in work that required me only to talk, smile, be myself, and be curious about others, all very doable tasks and consistent with my own natural demeanor.  A love of coffee was not required, but having that proclivity sure didn't hurt.

Giving my notice last week was bittersweet to say the least. It didn't happen as I planned, but it was all perfectly imperfect. I know I am ready to move on. Yet making it all official felt like I was finally parting with my favorite teddy bear, the old beat-up one that I've slept with for the past several years. You know the one, with just a single straggly ear left and whose fuzzy brown body is all pilled up from the wear and tear of being your lone source of security and comfort every night. Not that you clutch him fiercely anymore, or even touch him at all during dreamtime. Those days are long gone. No, he's just the bear you simply can't bear to part with, the one you know you can do without but whose familiar presence is hard to let go of.  That is, until now.

As an adult I have moved around quite a bit, settling here and there all over the United States for some period of time before moving on to my next temporary home.  In stark contrast to that semi-nomadic existence, my employment history has been a model of surprising stability by most current standards. I have only really held three jobs since graduating college seventeen years ago. One job lasted two years, another one more than seven years, and then Starbucks, which would make nine years on May 29. But that anniversary isn't going to happen. I didn't want to wait. No more waiting for dates that have no meaning. Instead, I will be starting a new adventure that day, one that has been dancing around in my mind and heart for many months now. One that effectively trades that worn-out teddy bear in for, well.....something brand new, and decidedly, something very much unknown.

I'm going to Europe. Backpacking.  For two months.  

As word of this trip has leaked out to our regular customers, I find myself answering lots of questions with my new favorite phrase: I don't know. Like, for instance, where will I go? Where will I stay? What will I do when I return? How can I afford to do this on my measly barista salary? Blah blah blah blah blah. The other day I think I actually threw in a heartfelt "who gives a shit?" to one woman, who promptly laughed and congratulated me on my impending freedom.

I may not know much yet, but there are a few things I do know. I know that when I am merely in conversation with people about this decision, I cannot stop the diarrhea of the mouth that comes over me. I get chills. I laugh, get tears, and get caught in a divine updraft so strong that if I had hair it would probably blow right off the top of my head. I also know I have seen the same reaction in others who share in my storytelling. They see the inspiration, the spirit, the romance in my eyes when I muse about this pending journey. It is tailor-made for me, they say. And I couldn't agree more.

Am I nervous? Of course, but in a "what if everything I asked for is not under the Christmas tree?" kind of way. No matter what, there will still be gifts. I guess there comes a moment when it's finally time to go out into the world and see what happens when you just trust. Of course, it is imperative that you actually trust your own ability to trust. For me, that time has finally arrived.

If there is one other thing I do know, it is that getting comfortable with not knowing is already setting me free. I am craving adventure. I want to see the world. I have nothing holding me back. As a close friend pointed out, a trip to Europe is purely a symbol for my own freedom. I get that. It's a whim, a chance, and a very exciting one at that.  It is also the polar opposite of everything that Starbucks has represented to me over the past few years.  But that is ok.  Thankfully, there is no timetable on living authentic to who and what we believe we are in this world. The best any of us can do is just keep getting to know better what makes us happy, what fills our heart and soul, and let our surroundings change and evolve as often as necessary.  It takes a certain amount of courage, this constant reinventing and reevaluating, and it only works when the time is right. 

Truth is, I don't know where I'm going. Eh. So what. It's like the first line of that old Whitesnake song from the 80's proclaimed, "I don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I've been." Simple but true. The only thing left is to embrace the unknown and prepare to shed a few fears along the way.

In the meantime, I sure do know where I've been for almost nine years. It has been a great ride, Starbucks. I know you like the back of my hand.  We probably know each other a little too well in fact.  But either way, the time is fast approaching to say goodbye to the familiar and hello to the who-knows-what.

I don't need to know where I'm going, and am just starting to get comfortable with saying I don't know again. But I am sure that it is time to accept the spaciousness that exists behind those words, to listen for guidance and allow the wide-open, anything-is-possible results that come from not having to be in control every step of the way. To get comfortable with being uncomfortable, and really experience that I have everything I need and always will, regardless of whether I acknowledge it or not. Ah, yes. That sounds perfect to me.

Right now, I'm noticing that all of this is making my heart smile. I guess giving notice has a way of doing that, and so much more. What else exactly? I don't know.  I just know that not knowing isn't quite so scary anymore.

It's time.  I'm ready.  Take notice, unknown.  I'm coming for you.