On Name-Changing Behind The Counter
Any other near-imposters out there?
Writing from behind a barista counter today. Two days into the new gig.
My mind goes into panic mode whenever people ask for my name here, and it makes me chuckle. I immediately think, “I can’t tell you my name. This isn’t me! This isn’t my identity! I’m an artist! Take your double-shot macchiato, get out of here, and forget I was ever here.”
The way my identity as an artist is so deeply intertwined with who I am is innate, but still surprises me. I’m working this job—and the others—to directly fund my artist career. So yes, Eliza is here to fund the Eliza Spear franchise. But it’s the idea of people meeting me as Barista Eliza and only attributing me to that role that stumps me. As if I’ve ever interacted with a barista and thought about anything other than the extreme price of an $8 latte.
I find my inner dialogue dramatically perfect—and I appreciate it. It’s a reminder of how much I value my identity as an artist—and how I’ll continue to take care of it.
“Eliza. It’s so great to meet you. And yours?”
Any other near-imposters out there? I’ve dabbled with the idea of being a “Molly,” maybe even an “Anastasia”—but that was only on the days I brought my pedestal to work.
Suspect most folks are near-imposters, at least some of the time.
Perhaps it will help to remember that every person you serve is another light in your life. However small those lights are, they twinkle bright when you look carefully. This is natural for you. For one of the many things you do well is look carefully and see people.