Pizza Buffets are where happy thoughts go to die

So I've worked in the food industry about...a little over four years.  And anyone who has worked in the food industry will tell you that four years is both a second and an eternity.

My first job was at a pizza buffet.  And let me state that if anyone tries to tell you that this is a fun job it's because misery loves company and it's also a filthy rotten liar face.

Pizza buffets are horrible.  This is partly because there is an endless supply of food for children to mix up, destroy and decorate the tables with. However, it's mainly because pizza buffets encourage a family atmosphere that isn't at all happy and wholesome, but loud and resentful.  That may sound extremely negative, but it's been my experience that the families that eat at pizza buffets go there so that they don't have to watch their manner-less, demon children while they gossip about other families or glare sullenly in the opposite direction of each other.  This wasn't always the case and I had a few very polite families, but they were not the majority.  And most people seemed to take it on as their meaning in life to make my job as difficult as possible.

                               (These have ALL been said to me. I'm not even kidding right now.)

They probably felt entitled to making everyone as miserable as themselves.

The only thing that could make working at a pizza buffet worse is if it has a game room.  I know this because the one I worked at did.

You take a dollop of children with endless supplies of pizza, sugary drinks and flashing, competition inducing games and add a handful of uncaring parents = you have a recipe for your very own Hell.

Despite all of this, the job wasn't a complete terror. I worked there for about three years and while there is no part of me that wishes to ever relive that experience, I feel that I learned a lot.  Such as a good work ethic, how to deal with stress and what you can learn from your fired co-workers (A.k.a Ten ways not to be.)

But I did my time and after three years of cleaning tables and losing my faith in humanity I applied for my current job as a barista.

You would think that this decision brought much relief and excitement and it did later on.  I am not, however, a person who is comfortable with change.  So this decision initially brought forth a whole ton of panic and a lot of Elysha going:  'Oh God, why did I do this? What am I doing? I know nothing about this! NOTHING! I'm going to die. I am going to die. Why is this happening? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!'

I am not an outgoing person.  It took until I was twelve for my mother to even get me to talk to cashiers, let alone do anything I hadn't done before. I am a creature of habit and while those habits may include insanity I am going to stick with them and those who would deter me be warned of violence.

So yeah, when I quit the job I had been doing for three years to go to a completely different job, I panicked. I panicked through all three interviews and all of the training sessions. I guess it's good that I can function while I'm panicked, but it is not enjoyable.

But I still did it, because I most certainly was not going back to cleaning tables.  This is not a decision I have found myself regretting. I love being a barista.  I get to drink coffee and learn about coffee and talk to other people about coffee.  And while there are times when I dislike it and it gets rather stressful, it always beats a pizza buffet in the face with a hammer of awesome.

For the most part I'm content.  I don't plan on being a barista for the rest of my life, but seeing as how all of my future goals consist of 'I like art. I like writing and art' we'll see how that turns out.