Freshly tasked with picking the brain of a Blue State barista, I confidently strode into the coffee shop at the busiest time of the week and declared I would like to interview someone. After receiving incredulous glances from nearly everyone in the line behind me, I realized that I maybe hadn’t picked the best time. This blunder was especially distressing considering my already subpar reputation at Blue State: the first day of school this year I managed to spill my entire iced coffee over a barista, overcoming the counter between us.

Thank God someone was just getting off his shift, so he kindly agreed to talk to me. Clearly, he had not heard the iced coffee story.

He introduced himself as Ben Mitchell, from Washington, D.C. He studies journalism at Syracuse University, but is taking a year off of school to live with family. He is working at Blue State in the meantime, his first coffee shop gig, he tells me. He’s been behind the counter for about two months.

He also made working at Blue State sound like the best job ever. In general, people are really nice, and the other employees have been great, he says. He loves the lunchtime shift, because it’s the best time of day—everyone’s coming in for an afternoon coffee or espresso, and people are just upbeat. And Saturday night shifts are the best: they play the Number 1 Hits Pandora Station and have their own kind of dance party. (I would pay good money to see this.)

Of course, it’s not entirely perfect. They do have to clean the grease trap, which catches all the food waste that goes into the sink. There’s a rotating calendar in the back that says whose turn it is to suction it out.

Also, there’s a group that comes in and regularly orders six-shot caramel mochas. A whole horde of them. Regularly. And there was once a guy who came in with such a long request that a line grew behind him all the way out the door. Kind of like when I asked to interview Ben. Haha. Oops.

Ben is also a big fan of film. In an ideal world, he would want to be a documentary filmmaker. He also loves Danny Boyle (ladies: there’s your icebreaker).

He also revealed that only Yale undergrads order Chaiders, which I learned midway through sipping my own. Next time, undergrads, maybe consider ordering a Cortado or a Dirty Chai, Ben’s favorite drinks on the menu.

In summary, Blue State seems like a pretty great place to work. The people are nice, the drinks are good, and you get a Saturday night dance party. Though you do risk having a freshman spill her iced coffee on you.

-Graphic by Kai Takahashi

ZUMBA: Often described as a “fitness party,” Zumba includes fast but easy moves that will allow you to achieve long term goals while having fun! This unique and popular fusion of Latin rhythms and easy-to-follow dance movements creates a dynamic and fun aerobic fitness experience.

I’ve just returned from a trek to Yale Health—really the most exercise I’ve gotten all semester—when I decide it’s a good idea to attend an evening Zumba class.

Disregarding my just-diagnosed sinus infection, I walk into the class and immediately size up the competition (because, let’s be honest, all dance aerobic classes are, at their core, competitions). The girls in the front clearly know what they’re doing. I instantly resent them. In the back are a bunch of elderly women and one man who looks very confused.

The instructor struts out, swears she’ll make this class easy for all the beginners, and turns on some salsa music. We’re off. My reflection is blocked by one of the front-row dancer girls, so in my mind I’m basically Shakira 2.0.

Then the instructor announces that we’re done stretching. I start to get nervous. I was actually breaking a sweat from those “stretches.” The instructor changes the music to a loud Spanish version of “Jump Around.” Now I’m straight up panicking. The girl in front of me shifts slightly. Now I can see myself in the mirror. I am not Shakira.

The basic moves turn into a fast “Merengue March.” I try to keep up, but I realize I am marching the wrong way. I start to march the other way, and am overcome with a fit of coughs. Not girly coughs either, but room-shaking, this-girl-clearly-has-a-sinus-infection coughs. I try to recuperate, but everyone’s jumping. I join in, but jump wrong. Cough even more. Back to the Merengue. Cough again.

I glance back to check on the older women, trying to convince myself I can’t be the worst dancer in the room. To my horror, they are literally killing it. Throwing just as much sass as the instructor, if not more. We start salsaing again and I look back at the girls in front of me. They are also killing it. They’re the worst. All of them are the worst.

The class goes on, with me coughing like a 90 year-old smoker and everyone else out-Merengueing me. My roommate tries to convince me I wasn’t that bad, but I know the truth. As we walk out the room I hear the very confused-looking man ask, “This was SoulCycle, right?” I begin to laugh, but it comes out as a bunch of coughs. I leave feeling relieved that I was not the most confused person there.

Graphic by Zachary Schiller