THE BARISTA

IF DANIEL MARTINEZ gets out of bed even a minute late, it throws his whole day off.

The 20-year-old college students rises exactly at 4:30 a.m., gets ready for work and drives from Duncanville to Oak Cliff, where he is a barista at Davis Street Espresso. He arrives before 5:30 a.m.

“I try to be early just because I don’t like to rush,” he says. By 5:40, he starts the coffee, and at 5:50, the second barista arrives.

Once everything else is ready, they taste the first espresso shots of the day for quality control.

When customers begin rolling in around 6 a.m., Martinez knows their faces, their names and their drinks, especially for the early morning regulars. Jenny is a cappuccino. Desiree, espresso.

As he gets to know Starbucks customers who prefer very sugary drinks, he tries to wean them off of vanilla syrup and appreciate how coffee tastes. He suggests using two lumps of sugar instead of three. He recom- mends a chai latte for a customer who isn’t that into coffee.

“There is trust involved,” he says. “I like talking about coffee and educating people about coffee.”

Martinez and his coworker, Nate McCabe, say they never eat breakfast before work.

“There’s no time,” McCabe says.

They taste coffee, an appetite suppressant, throughout their shifts. Sometimes they snack. But usually, they haven’t had a meal at the time they clock out.

Twice a week, Martinez works 5:30 a.m. to 2 p.m. or sometimes as late as 3:30. Usually there is a nap and then evening activities. He’s a leader in the young adult group at his church, Vida Dallas.

“If I’m not home by 9 p.m., it’s going to be a rough day,” he says.

McCabe, who recently graduated with a master’s degree from the University of Dallas, has a roommate who works an evening retail job and also likes to party.

“There have been a few times when I’m leaving from work, and he’s still up,” he says. “And vice versa, where I’m coming home from work, and he’s just starting his day.”

Martinez and McCabe both say having a regular sleep schedule is impossible. Having a good alarm clock is a must — phones aren’t reliable enough. They take naps, and they learn to live with a little sleep deprivation.

They do it because they love coffee, and they love the people, Martinez says.

“I love that I can give someone a cup, and they’re like ‘Wow, this is so good,’” he says. “People look forward to coffee. It’s an important part of their day.”

McCabe says he prefers the mornings in wintertime. It’s dark when he arrives and gradually the sun begins to come up over West Davis.

“We get to see the sun rise,” he says. “It’s nice to see the light change throughout the morning, and it’s like the whole room changes.”

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Shift

“I decorated here instead of my house. This is a huge part of my life.”

The Bartender

EVEN ON HIS DAYS OFF, Steven Geer usually finds a barstool at Barbara’s Pavilion.

Geer landed his first bartending gig 25 years ago, and he’s worked at Barbara’s twice. Previous owners fired him in 2005 for walking out during a shift, but he was rehired three years later and never left.

Like many who have worked at Barbara’s or owned a piece of it, he describes Oak Cliff’s oldest bar as his living room. Geer, who also is a singer, points to Christmas stockings and tinsel garlands.

“I decorated here instead of my house,” he says. “This is a huge part of my life.”

Dan Friessen, a Barbara’s co-owner for the past eight years, manages Barbara’s and is always there. He says he does take days off, but Barbara’s is his home. This dive bar, famous for its karaoke and chill vibe, is where his friends and chosen family are. It’s his whole life.

A typical day for Friessen starts around noon. He’s always at Barbara’s by 3 p.m. at latest to open up at 4. On a slow night, you’ll find him on his laptop at one end of the bar. When friends arrive, he teases them, makes them laugh and makes them drinks.

In Friessen’s eight years at Barbara’s, there’s been only one fight, after a gay guy bought a drink for the wrong straight guy.

Occasionally things become rowdy, even shouty. There are times when the over imbibed are cut off and, if they are jerks about it, ejected. But that is all very rare, Friessen says.

Most of the time, it’s all karaoke and coolness.

Friessen typically finds a pack of latenighters on the Pav’s back porch around last call. At 2 a.m., it’s time to kick everyone out. Not an easy job considering these are his friends and this is his back yard.

“The other night I dreamed it was 2 a.m., and I couldn’t get anyone to leave,” he says. “I usually have my security do it.”