What my barista job has taught me about stress and performance

I started working at a coffee shop in October 2024. I had no barista experience, but quickly learned how to make espresso, lattes, and matcha. It’s fun to be a small part of people’s daily routines and see their delight in our drinks.

In the last few years of my journalism career, I normalized high levels of stress. And it’s taken a totally different job as a barista to realize that.

Working at a coffee shop has been a welcome respite from the stressors of corporate media, where deadlines ran my day and I was constantly trying to prove myself worthy of the type of stories I wanted to write. One particular moment in my career highlighted how achievement and approval began to bleed into my identity.

After two years covering entrepreneurship, I was confident that I was ready for a promotion from “reporter” to “senior reporter.” I’d covered important topics, interviewed top founders and executives, acquired thousands of subscriptions, earned millions of pageviews, and pitched hundreds of solid story ideas. I believed all of that, along with my can-do attitude and ambition, was enough to get me to the next level.

My editor believed in me and even advocated for me to get the promotion. But the editors above her disagreed and denied my promotion. Instead, I was told to do more “senior reporter” work and then they would reevaluate my promotion in six months.

It’s never made sense to me that in the corporate world, we have to do the work we’re not getting paid for just to prove that we’re ready to level up. But alas, I really wanted that promotion and despite believing that I’d already earned it, I continued to push myself beyond my pay grade.

After those six months, I did finally get the promotion, but the need to prove myself never really went away. I pitched an investigative story idea but it took months to convince my editor’s boss that it was worth covering. When the entire publication’s traffic dropped, my team was given unrealistic monthly goals and told that every story should be a single-source, first-person account (which not only brought up ethical concerns, but completely stifled my creativity and critical thinking). Later, I moved to another team where I hoped things would be different, just to find out that it was more of the same unrealistic goals and story limitations.

In those years, I often worked through my lunch breaks and after normal work hours. If I didn’t, I worried that I wouldn’t get everything done. Plus, I mostly worked from home where my inbox and Slack were accessible at all hours, so it was hard to mentally “clock out.” And because my job required so many hours on a computer screen, I rarely had the energy to work on my personal writing in my free time.

Proving myself was the greatest source of my stress. I felt like every story I wrote, whether it performed well or not, was a reflection of my capabilities as a journalist. Even though I had incredibly supportive editors who wanted to see me succeed, they too had to answer to the company’s business interests. More often than not, that meant pageviews and subscriptions were markers of my success, even though most of the time those were completely out of my control and unpredictable. Stories we thought would get tons of pageviews came up short and stories we hesitated to publish did better than we expected.

Working as a barista has been different in many ways.

There is a definitive beginning and end to work.

Each day I walk in, tie up my hair, and wash my hands before I start my shift. At the end of my shift, I complete several tasks to tidy up the shop, like washing dishes, restocking milks, or mopping the floors. Once I’m done, I clock out, say goodbye to my coworkers, and walk out the door. These physical actions signal to my brain where work begins and where it ends, so I’m not tempted to work outside of the hours I’m scheduled.

The stakes are low.

In the six to eight hours of my shift, my sole focus is to help customers, make drinks, and keep the shop clean. The worst thing that can happen is getting a customer’s order wrong — but you apologize, make the drink over, and the day goes on.

I have more energy to write.

We’re not allowed to have our phones out, so I’m not distracted by social media or messages. When it’s slow, I usually talk with my coworkers or our regulars. On the days I work, my screen time is low and my social interaction is high, saving me the brain power to write.

I don’t have to prove myself.

Perhaps most importantly, with no corporate ladder to climb, there’s nothing for me to prove. As long as customers are happy and the coffee tastes good, there is nothing more for me to achieve. I don’t have to do extra work to gain approval or come up with fresh ideas to show that I’m capable. While there’s plenty to learn about coffee, like pulling good espresso shots and honing my latte art skills, I’m not in a position that would lead to a promotion, nor am I trying to have a career in coffee long-term.

It’s easy to conflate our career achievements with our identities. We spend at least 40 hours a week working towards goals, pitches, deadlines, and metrics, so it’s no wonder that these achievements form attachments to who we are.

But Scripture reminds us that God measures us differently than the world does…

“But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.’” — 1 Samuel 16:7

We never have to worry about performing or measuring up in order for God to accept us. And He doesn’t withhold good things from us when we fall short. There is no way for us to earn His love and approval because He gives it to us freely. What matters to Him is the state of our hearts.

It might sound absurd, but after all of this, I still want to work in journalism. I’m not sure what that looks like yet, whether it’s freelancing or eventually looking for another full-time job, but I know God isn’t done with my passion for this field. Even though it can be incredibly stressful and frustrating, I continue to believe that it is important work and that I have the skillset to do it.

Stepping away from journalism for a moment has given me perspective, which I pray will keep me from making the same mistakes in the future. Now that I know the peace and freedom of not needing to prove myself, I can approach future jobs differently.

Sure, editors will still interrogate my work and my capabilities, but I don’t have to give their critical voices the power to make me feel like any less of a journalist. And I’m certain the days of pageview driven journalism are far from over, but I can continue to push for important stories, choosing determination over resignation.