I hate making mistakes. Inevitably it happens for reasons that are both simple and obvious, but that still doens't stop me from wringing the crap out of the situation, my brain and my hands. I'm writing it here so I can hopefully let it go because I'm getting on my own nerves.
As you know, I've been working at Starbucks for a wee while now. It's great. My co-workers are simply fantastic. There've been times when I've wondered if it were possible to have that many patient people in one place; but as they're quick to remind me, everyone starts somewhere and crap is going to happen.
Still, last night when I made what I thought was a marvelously foamed latte (I've been working on my steaming skills and they finally look (and taste!) decent), I discovered that in fact it had been disgusting. The espresso poured extra black. I was making it for someone who has been training me and I felt under the gun to make a really good one because this person rightfully has high standards. So I was aghast and perplexed when she called the store shortly afterwards and voiced what I'm certain was nothing short of disdain. The co-worker with whom my trainer spoke just shrugged and said, "Eh. Don't worry about it. She said it was disgusting, but she's pretty particular."
How I wish I could let it roll off my back or whatever that expression is ...
Baffled I stared at the machine. I remade it because I wanted to know if I'd pressed additional buttons in haste or if the half-decaf poured differently, and while it seemed a bit strong, I just don't know.
I do know that I fear failure and possibly even the fear of failure (if that makes any sense), and I don't know if my Capricorn-y self will ever fully embrace it. It seems to run counter to my nature -- I work hard, I study, I prepare, I dwell so that I can minimize the likelihood of failing. I'm certain I've probably learned great things from mistakes I've already made, but there's no telling how long it took for me to get through that process.
And I guess I just realized that I've always been like this. In school, a minus on anything would send me into a tailspin of worrying about whether I was still going to be good enough and I would resolve to work harder, be better. I have an idea from where this drive (for lack of a better word) comes -- the seemingly endless quest to belong ... somewhere -- but I've obviously not yet developed a coping mechanism to coach myself through the process of getting over and on with it. ("It" being life, school work, the botched pass, the missed free throw, the thank you note that was never sent, etc.)
I know this is a mountain out of a molehill. It's just a cup of friggin' coffee, and I do not intend to whine so much, but I think this is one example of the way I am that still has something to reveal to me in order for me to grow ... up.