Chapter Text
It’s official— I hate my job.
The coffee that spilled all over my white shirt was searingly hot and I wouldn't be surprised if it was giving me first-degree burns already. I cursed under my breath, hoping that any of the customers waiting on their drinks wouldn’t hear me as I shuffled my way to the back and locked myself in the closest bathroom.
Lights above me flicker unsteadily as I try to search for any spare paper towels, and given my luck there's only the terrible thin brown ones in the dispenser that I practically have to grab half a roll just to have enough for what I need.
“Jesus Christ.” I sigh outloud, though the loud fan above my head is too loud to even hear most of my thoughts over. I feel a headache growing rapidly behind my forehead as I scrub at the bottom of my shirt, the hem nearly soaked with, now room temperature, black coffee. This day just can’t get any worse.
It’s been exactly three weeks since I first started here. A slow, painful three weeks spent cleaning tables and spilling drinks all over the counter just for some meager minimum wage.
This was not what I spent 5 years in University for.
A rattling at the doorknob to my right caused me to flinch, extracting me from my thoughts as I hurried to keep cleaning my shirt. It was too busy to hide out in here for the next few hours— two of my coworkers, Ben and Elise, were trapped up front dealing with a horde of people from nearby businesses and schools all flooding us at once. It was an unlucky location, in my opinion, because I had to work through the rush. I know it’s technically good for business— but it's not my business. This place could burn overnight and all I care about is that paycheck.
And God, my head is throbbing, another person tries knocking at the door even though it’s locked and the light is on, and I’m on the verge of a midlife crisis if all of this keeps up—
But I don’t have a choice.
My hands still at the hem of my shirt, the paper towels now thoroughly soaked and ripped by how aggressively I was pressing them against me. It hits me, again, like it has been the last two months.
I got myself into this mess, and no matter how much I like to blame my environment for my bad mood, the only reason I’m stuck in this place is because I got too cocky. I flew too close to the sun.
I published that ridiculous paper and tried shoving it in everyone's faces with no proof. I got myself in this mess.
Another rattle at the door— “Dude, are you almost done in there? There’s a line!”
I toss the garbage in the bin and swing the door open, nodding apologetically towards the line of customers all giving me dirty looks before I slip into the ‘staff only’ door to my right. There’s an apron shoved back at me as soon as the door shuts behind me and my manager, a stern woman in her late fifties, gives me a long look up and down.
“Are you alright?” She asks, mostly as a lawsuit precaution given the fact that I could’ve gotten seriously injured at the job. I don’t have any insurance to pay me enough to lie.
“Yep, I’ll survive.”
She pushes me gently towards the front, an action I don’t quite like as my shoulders shoot up towards my ears, but she keeps walking me forward anyway. “It didn’t burn you too badly did it?”
“Nope.” I cleared my throat, knowing what would come next.
“Perfect, Ben needs your help on bar.” With one last harsh pat on the back, she shoves me forward once again and I’m thrown between both of my coworkers running around me, carrying steaming latte’s or jugs of milk that needed steaming.
Elise catches sight of me first. “Ryland, can you pass me the oat milk?”
“No, he needs to take orders—” Ben interrupts.
“We can’t accept anymore orders when we’re swamped—”
“I’ve already gotten three complaints—”
Oh boy. Okay.
Without listening to any more of their bickering, I’m grabbing the milk and pushing it towards one of them before taking my place behind the cash register. I’ll just take it hour by hour, I think, that’s the only way I’ll survive another year of this.
I take a deep breath.
“Hello, what can I get started for you today?”
— ☕︎ —
Things slowed down eventually.
Ben’s shift ended and I silently pumped my fist, thankful that he wouldn’t be around to act condescending towards my awful latte making skills, and I prayed nobody else would come in for the duration of my work day.
It was impossibly foolish to even want that in the first place due to the fact that every half an hour, at least one group of people would come in and swarm me and my coworker with a plethora of complicated drinks, and then we would be wandering aimlessly cleaning until the next wave appeared. Still, the calmness of the cafe was enough to grant me temporary serenity.
The evening sun was beginning to slowly set, bright rays of light seeping through the windows and dowsing us with what felt like a breath of fresh air. I scrubbed the counter despite it already being clean, and calming acoustic songs were playing through the speaker, blending the white noise of customers sitting and chatting enough for me to get lost in my head again.
I had a long list of things I needed to sort out, but it was barely the beginning of summer. A few things were already checked off— like finding a job and keeping it.
A shiver ran through my body as I remembered the brief few days I tried working in an office setting before promptly being let go for, and I quote, ‘doing my job too well.’
Well, nobody said that directly, but I knew that was why I was fired. When you try to redo a company's coding system because you noticed a few errors were wrong, I guess that’s not a great look for the guys from the IT department who have been there longer than I’ve been alive.
Whatever. I’m allowed to be bitter about it.
Even if it got me here, which is a much lower paying job than working in an office, but that wasn’t as relevant. Hell, I’m just grateful I spent most of my undergrad coming here for caffeine during finals season enough that the manager recognized me. After I got kicked out of school, I showed up here to apply for jobs online. When she saw me and asked where I had been— it had been a few long weeks attending conferences for my PhD program, right up until the day I only referred to it as ‘the accident’in my mind— and I told her the truth.
Looking back I sort of dumped it all on her, actually. The conference, the paper, the rest of the things that led up towards the accident— and how I couldn’t find a single job in San Francisco that would hire me. I was either too experienced or shunned from that field of research. I was an embarrassment to my degree, and yet she offered a simple solution.
Now here I was, wiping the same spot on the counter for the last ten minutes while Elise is probably smoking at the back of the building where our manager can’t see on the cameras. Lucky.
“How long are you going to be doing that for?” A voice pulls me from my thoughts as my head whips up, glancing towards the cash register as a woman stares at me with a blank expression on her face.
“Oh— sorry.” I toss the rag onto the counter haphazardly before taking a few short steps over, I feel my face flush with embarrassment as I tried not to think about how long she saw me doing that for. “What can I get started for you?”
“A large black coffee.”
I blink at her— she’s so… abrupt with it. Understandably, after waiting for god knows how long without speaking up but still. She has a bit of an accent too, one I can’t decipher, but she's raising her eyebrows at me as a clue to the fact that I never replied.
“Right, is that everything for you today?”
She seems to grow even more annoyed at this, but nods and waits for the debit machine to pull up the transaction. I’m standing here like an idiot trying to figure out how upset she is with me, which was not going to go well with the owners if they found out, so my next words are a bit of a mess.
“Did you— I mean, are you wanting it to stay? Or— You probably want it to go, you look like you’re in a rush, I mean…”
“Do I?” The machine beeps as she sighs, exasperated.
“Uh, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Forgive my coworker, he’s a bit of a dunce.” Elise comes out from the back hallway, smiling casually towards us as she subtly pushes me out of the way, taking the drink ticket and shoving it towards my chest before she’s fully ignoring me. Alright, I can catch the hint.
It’s only when I turn around to pour the coffee that I hear them start talking, a hushed conversation I can’t make out any of the words around.
There weren’t many regulars I memorized at this point, given how odd my hours were. A few familiar faces passed through every other day that I caught glimpses of, but Elise seemed a lot better at starting conversations that were actually interesting than whatever the hell I was doing. I envied her a little bit.
The coffee steamed around the rim of the cup before I closed a lid around it, making sure it was secure so as to not spill it on myself or the girl casting me unimpressed glances during their hushed conversation. Right before I can walk over and hand it to Elise or even place it on the counter between them, my hands start fumbling for one of the red sharpies in my apron pocket. Between all the crumbled receipts I keep in there— accidental— and the hoard of pens I either stole from our stash or took from home— all on purpose— I’m able to uncap one successfully and sprawl out a quick ‘sorry, have a great day!’ with a pathetic attempt of a smiley face.
Not my best work, but it would do for now.
I manage to slide beside Elise and put it between them, not making eye contact with either one of them before turning and opening different fridge doors to pretend I’m occupied.
Behind me, the door chimes as I turn, and Elise is already giving me a grimace.
“What?”
She shakes her head, leaning against the counter. “I leave for a few minutes and you manage to make her late for work.”
My jaw drops a little. “Me? I get that I was slacking but— she could’ve rang the bell at any time!”
“She’s a busy woman.” Elise counteracts.
“You guys were talking even after I finished her drink.” I complain. I’m beginning to think that the whole time they were whispering to each other was spent complaining about me, but that was completely unfair.
Okay, maybe a little fair but— not completely my fault. We’re mutually at fault. I wasn’t able to continue as the front door jingled again, a group of elderly women coming inside. It was enough of a distraction to cut the conversation off, even as we stood side by side and finished their drinks. Elise changed topics, thankfully, now pestering me on whether or not it was appropriate for her to leave work early to see her girlfriend as if she wasn’t the one who was supposed to be closing.
It was hard to tell if she was being serious or joking when half the time her facial expressions never change, so I pinch the bridge of my nose and move on, counting down each minute that passes until I can walk back to my apartment and shower before falling asleep in front of the television— a recent development in my now uneventful life.
And tomorrow, after waking up with an ache in my back, I get to do it all over again.