On Leave, Chapter 7: The Shift

Today was the day. It was my interview with the cafe I just spent time at two weeks ago. I figured out what to wear, then remembered the barista behind the counter saying to war a regular T-shirt and some jeans. So I put on my green American Apparel unisex T-shirt and my faded Gap jeans, and also my lime-green Toms Shoes.

I walked out of the apartment, down the steps, and up the street. I passed kids playing hopscotch, hopping around on those colorful squares. I passed the empty hot-dog stand that Willie, our next door neighbor, ran from approximately 11 in the morning to 6 pm in the evening. I could have used a veggie dog right now. Willie always makes them especially for me.

I passed graffitied walls. I passed Wall Street’s glimmering skyscraper building. I passed dozens of people who walked past me on their headsets, wearing their dapper business suits and leather loafers. On a day when I finally had my first job interview, today seemed like a freaking symphony, alive with all kinds of clors.

I walked into the cafe. A tall guy with tattoos was working behind the counter.

“Excuse me?”

He looked up.

“I came in a while back, and I asked this pink-haired chick who works here about setting up an interview.”

“Oh, cool, okay, yeah. I’ll tell her you’re here. Just give me a second.”

I nodded.

The pink-haired chick came from the back of the kitchen.

“Hi! What’s your name again?” she asked in her cheery way.

“Natalie.”

“Natalie! I’m Sam. Nice to meet you. Let’s have a seat at that back table.”

We walked over to the back table.

“So tell me, have you worked as a barista before?”

“No. This is my first actual job, so I haven’t worked a 9-5 or anything in food service before.”

“That’s cool. We’ll get you on-the-job training so you don’t have to do any computer programs or anything like that.”

Sweet deal.

“Do you have a history of health problems that could prevent you from carrying anything more than 30 pounds? You’ll just be carrying boxes of inventory from the truck outside to the back of the house every Wednesday.”

“No, that’s fine.”

“So the position pays $9.15 an hour, but we can get you a raise if you work hard enough at the job.”

I didn’t care. I just wanted to take this job because Abe told me to.

“That’s fine.”

“Cool. Can you start today? We could really use a hand in our kitchen.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Great! I’ll go ahead and give you your green apron and you can come in the back with me.”

I followed her to the back of the house.

An old guy towering about 6 ft 4 inches was grilling patties in the back of the kitchen.

“Oh, I have someone I want you to meet! Kapel, this is Natalie. She’s our new barista.”

“Pleased to meet you, Natalie,” Kapel said, not turning around. I figured he had to keep an eye on the burgers.

“Ok, let’s get you your apron.”

We walked over to the closet. A massive cooler sat behind it.

“So this is where we get our ice from. This is the ice we use for our iced lattes, our waters, and for chilling our evening wines and beers. This is where you will keep your bag, in this closet.”

She fished out a green apron, much like the one people at Starbucks wear.

“We’re gonna put you at point of sales today. It’s basically where you stand at the register and ring up people’s orders and write their names on the cups. Do you think you can do that?”

A five year old could take my job right now. So easy.

“Yeah, totally. I can do that.”

So she took me up to the front. My palms got sweaty. In the conservatory world, I could hide in the practice room and not talk to anyone. I could go into class and sit through the professor’s lecture without talking to a single soul. In this place, I couldn’t do that.

I stood at the front. Okay, not so bad, one person.

I froze. The lady stared at me blankly.

“Well, are you going to just stand there or take my order?” she smiled sarcastically.

Ouch. That hurt a lot. I hate sarcasm.

“What do you want today?”

Sam gently nudged me.

“Not “What do you want today”. Say “What can I get you?” Ask how she is doing first.”

The lady looked at us quizzically.

“Forgive us. Natalie’s our new barista and she’s training.”

My face flushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” I said, trying not to curl up into myself and stare at the floor. “What can I get you?”

But by then, the lady had already turned to Sam.

“She knows my order. Watch and learn, sweetie. I will have a triple mocha espresso macchiato with whipped cream, 5 Splendas and sugar-free toffee nut sauce. Oh, and with soy milk steamed to 120 degrees.”

I froze again. This lady basically had put together a drink our of Frankenstein. It was trying too hard to be both healthy and unhealthy. This drink in and of itself sounded more unhealthy than a Luther burger. For those who don’t know, the Luther burger is in an episode of a show I watch called The Boondocks. The grandfather whips up this burger made of a hamburger patty with bacon and cheese, all held together by two Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Even an artery-clogging invention like the Luther burger seemed like a fresh kale salad compared to the drink this lady got.

“Go to ‘drinks’. Go to ‘coffee’. And ring her up for a macchiato with soy milk. Add a sauce.”

I typed it all in. The total ended up being $6.99. For a fucking drink you were going to throw out when done.

“Can I get your name?” I grabbed a cup.

“Oh, you don’t need to put my name. Sam knows,” the lady said, thrusting her bejeweled leathery hand into her alligator skin purse and throwing a bunch of pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters on the counter at me, as well as a five dollar bill and a one dollar bill. It seemed rude that she would just throw her money at me like I was a dog, but I guess that’s part of the job.

“Count that for me,” she demanded.

I sorted through the mess of change while she impatiently tapped her foot.

I pressed the button on the register for cash, and the register opened up to reveal a fresh assortment of compartmentalized bills and coins. I put the change in and asked her if she needed the receipt. She snatched it out of my hands and moved to where Sam was making her drink. Well that was embarrassing, I thought. Maybe I shouldn’t internalize things so much.

A cute guy wearing a waiter’s uniform walked in. He kind of looked like Simon Baker, the Australian actor with wavy blonde hair and a muscular build.

“Hey, how ya doing?” he grinned at me. Then, I saw an equally attractive woman come up to the counter and sidle up next to him, playfully kissing him on the neck. He pecked her on the lips. Crap, I thought. Beefcake is taken.

“Give me an iced coffee with almond milk and three Raw Sugars. And–what do you want, honey?” he motioned to his girlfriend.

“I’ll just have a 5 shot mochaccino with extra chocolate sauce,” she shrugged.

Damn, I thought. That’s not something to shrug about; that’s dessert! A girl slim as her would probably never gain weight drinking those every day. I bet her and Simon Baker-look-alike regularly go to the gym just to show off their tanned bodies to passerby.

“Ok,” I motioned for Sam to come and help me, but she was gone. I fumbled with the machine, and then it froze up on me. I saw one of my fellow employees sweeping up the condiment area. I motioned over to him but he had his earphones in.

“It’s cool. We’ve gotta go and sit down. Can you give us these drinks on the house?”

I hesitated. Why would they not want to pay for their drinks? I mean, we’re people, too, you know, even if we spend hours a day making these nasty sugary drinks to make you bounce off the walls.

“Ummmm…okay.”

“Thanks! We’ll give you a tip after we finish dining in,” Beefcake grins, and winks at me.

“Pooky bear!” the ditz giggles, and playfully slaps her boyfriend on the shoulder. “Don’t flirt with her.”

“You single? You can sleep with Ginger and I; we could always use a threesome.”

I looked at him with an embarrassed forced grin. Gross! I thought this dude was going just get his drink and leave me alone, but looks can be deceiving.

“I….”

“Leave her alone,” a voice behind me said,

“What?” Beefcake turned to find the voice.

A tall guy with glasses and a gangly build, wearing a green uniform, came up to where I was standing.

“Yeah, I told you to leave her alone.”

Beefcake held up his hands in a fake apology.

“Fine, fine, I was just teasing her.”

“Sir, that is technically sexual harassment, and I can have you kicked out of this store any time I please if you are going to walk in and make unwanted sexual advances towards any of my employees.”

The guy sighed, then turned to look at me.

“We’ll be sitting right there. Just hurry up and give us our drinks.”

I nodded. This day was going to be interesting.

—

Beefcake and his girlfriend didn’t even leave the tip they promised. He walked in, so cool as a cucumber, and here he had to go being petty. Fuck him and his dumb girlfriend.

It was the end of my shift at 2 pm. I grabbed my stuff from the closet. When I closed it, Sam surprised me on the other side. It was like a scary movie and I was the person who closed the door only to find a possessed something-rather standing right in front of me.

I jolted.

“Hey, how was your first day of work?” Sam asked me, her dimples beaming from left to right.

“It was good,” I said.

“Will you be coming in on Wednesday for the 5 am shift? You’re on the schedule for that.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll see you then.”

And with that, I grabbed my baseball cap and went out into the New York City sun.