70. A less-than-ideal career move.

I'm not entirely proud of my year and change spent working at Starbucks.

In fact, I'm really not proud of it at all, if we're being honest here.

Don't get me wrong: I think it's a great company that treats its employees quite well, and there are many talented, intelligent, and inspiring individuals working as baristas (or "partners") in the ten gazillion Starbucks around the world.

But for me, it was certainly not the career move I'd envisioned making at the age of 26. Especially after having earned a degree from the somewhat reputable University of Southern California, working in a law school for several years, and teaching overseas.

It was a forced hand: with no car in Los Angeles, a pair of extremely unreliable bus lines servicing my neighborhood (I quickly quit my first job here, in part, because the 8 mile commute often took two hours--TWO HOURS!--on these lousy buses), and a string of spectacular rejections from nearby production studios where I'd hoped to work (a network that rhymes with "Rickelodeon" comes to mind), I took a barista gig at a Starbucks just a few blocks from my apartment. And ate a huge slice of humble pie in the process.

I won't say that I hated every minute of it. Just every other minute.

Consider: the 4:15 AM start times, the standing in a single spot for 6-8 hours a day (the managers--quite wisely--kept me away from making drinks as much as possible, so I was stationed at the register for about 85% of the time), the interactions with rude customers that would always seem to overshadow the pleasant interactions with 20 other wonderful customers, and the complete sense of mortification and humiliation that overtook me every time someone I knew from USC or elsewhere would enter the store.

But. Six months after my last Starbucks shift, I find myself grateful for the things I gained from my time as a partner.

The relationships I formed with my co-workers.

The relationships I formed--however cursory they may be--with many of the customers.

I visited the old store the other day. The official reason was to "get out of the house and get some work done," but in truth, it was primarily to visit some of my old co-workers and friends that have started working there since.

But in addition to seeing my friends who were working behind the counter, I ended up saying hi to a dozen or more of the store's regulars, folks from the neighborhood whom I otherwise would never have met. The local NBC weatherman. The oddball veterinarian we all call "Doc." The sweet old man who manages construction work for one of the movie studios. The shy girl who works at the beauty parlor next door. The priest at a nearby Catholic parish. The former pro wrestler who's missing half a pinkie (no joke).

Wonderful, fascinating, beautiful people.

And last night, a group of partners--both current and former--got together to see off one of our old co-workers, who's embarking on a new adventure that will take her to Texas. I got to visit with friends I hadn't seen in ages, and we spent the evening catching up, laughing at embarrassing anecdotes about each other, and enjoying a chance to sit down at a nice restaurant and let someone else do the thankless task of serving the food and drink.

Wonderful, fascinating, beautiful people.

I've mentioned it once before, but that gig--and the relationships with so many people that grew out of it--gave me a sense of familiarity and belonging in this neighborhood.

If I ever feel isolated or alone, I know a trip to my old store will quickly remind me of the many people I know here. I dare say that not every person living in this so-called City of Angels has such a connection with their corner of the city.