When I first took a job as a barista, I didn’t have especially high hopes. I thought it would simply be a good way to make some extra spending money and satisfy my latte cravings for free — in other words, a typical part-time job. I couldn’t have guessed it would change me as a person.

Before you decide all the extra caffeine has addled my brains and made me overly philosophical, hear me out. I’ve been working as a barista for the past five months, first over the summer at a café back home and currently at a coffee shop on Newbury Street. During that time, I’ve been exposed to many different types of customers.

There are the business suit-clad professionals who order large black coffees, pay in exact change and grunt a quick ‘thank you’ as they run out the door. There are the divas who order extra chocolate mochas with whipped cream and then demand I remake it because it’s “too sweet.” There are the yellers who complain about everything — the prices, the sizes, how long it took me to make the drink — and grumble their way out.

And then, mercifully, there are the chosen few: The golden standard customers.

These people are a rare breed. They wait patiently, leave a nice tip and — most importantly — talk to me like I’m actually a human being. They greet me with a genuine smile, ask how my day is going and make pleasant small talk. These patrons brighten my day without fail — but the thing is, five months ago I couldn’t have been more unlike them.

Before I started my barista job, I was content to keep contact with cashiers, waiters and receptionists as swift and painless as possible. Thanks to my parents not royally screwing up my upbringing, I was always polite and never caused a ruckus, but I was also never a talker. I got in, got what I wanted, said thank you and got out, without thinking anything of it.

Within weeks at the café, though, I realized the error of my ways. When I’m at work, I’m dying for a distraction, for an insta-friend to make me forget about the trash that needs to be taken out and to help shake off the harsh words of the guy whose coffee I spilled a few minutes earlier. Not being screamed at is fine, but actually enjoying a customer’s visit? Amazing.

So I made a resolution: I vowed to myself that I would return the favor of these golden standard customers and be like them. I would make a real effort to forget everything I believed about customer-employee interactions and to overcome my shyness and start talking to people.

Now, a few months into my new-and-improved outlook on life, I feel like a different person. To an outsider, I’m sure the shift in my habits is nearly imperceptible, but to me the difference is huge. I’m far more outgoing in nearly every aspect of my life, from chatting with waitresses to complementing the girl who sits next to me in class on her shoes.

Instead of looking at strangers who strike up conversations with me at Target like they’re insane, I smile and say something back. When I see ex-high school classmates at the grocery store, I resist the urge to hide behind a cereal display and actually strike up a conversation. In short, I’ve finally started acting like a functional human being.

I know I’m not exactly curing cancer or coming up with any “eureka” moment revelations here, but I’m a firm believer in the small things making all the difference. Seeing the gratitude on a minimum wage worker’s face when you leave him a dollar in the tip jar is huge; so is making a stressed-out sales clerk smile. As someone who’s dealt with my fair share of yellers and divas, it feels pretty great to try to mold myself into one of those wonderful, perfect, rare golden standard customers. Maybe, just maybe, it will make those yellers consider returning the favor — if I’m lucky.

– Jamie Ducharme can be reached at [email protected]