I watch eyes. Just like anyone else involved in service and hospitality, the work of a barista is one of being focused on the needs of others. And, just as with most others, one of the primary deterrents to that end is... the work of a barista. Looking down at a falling shot, listening for the punchy chirp of milk being textured, greeting the four-hundredth guest of the day as if they were the first, all keep the barista busy and seem to excuse them from digging past the surface requirements and into the subtle, less obvious needs of others. So I watch eyes. It's the same in restaurants. Servers moving with purpose, anticipating rather than reacting, setting up so well that the smooth transitions from one course to the next are executed without me noticing that they anticipated my needs hours and days and weeks before I ever stepped foot in the door. Training baristas in the middle of service taught my eyes to never rest, never stop reaching out to see what others have missed, constantly watching and evaluating even the subtlest shift in the position of a spoon or weight distribution of a torso. I watch eyes to see if baristas or servers or bartenders have seen what I saw. Too often, the barista is looking down, only watching the shot as it falls.
