I really like coffee shops. Not really the coffee, but the smell of a French roast in the early morning, along with the crackle of the pastries being torn to bits by customers as they rush off to work. The coffee grounds rinsing down the drain, the boiling water, and the steaming milk all add a special chaos that is seen nowhere outside a kindergarten classroom, and the coffee shop.
I started going in the mornings for a barista I met named Stacy. Stacy wore her nametag over her left breast because she loved her job. She said that her day was made when she brought the hollow black eyes of tired workers life. My day was made at 7:30 am, two and a half hours after she put the first pot on, when the chime of the doorbells caused her to look up from the cup she was at. It was as though a rainbow had been caught in the sunlight, and the whole café reflected her color.
Of course, that was a decade ago. Now I just go in the morning, sip a cup of tea, and read the newspaper until the bus arrives. The driver, Mike, knows me by name, but he took to calling me James a few years back. He overheard a passenger say I looked like Daniel Craig, and that made him laugh so hard he had to get off the bus for a rest stop. We sat there for fifteen minutes, awkwardly waiting for his scraggly gray beard to make it’s way back through the doors.
Some people might be worried someone would run off with their bus, but not Mike. Everyone knows Mike’s bus. It’s the only one with paint so faded that the company’s label is gone. They asked Mike to replace it, but Mike’s been there too long. Nobody tells Mike what to do with his bus.
And then it’s time to get off the bus. Brief case in hand, I step through the doorway of the glass door of the office. And who is there to greet me? Stacy. You can’t let your sunshine stray too far over the horizon, can you? I picked up Stacy, and she quickly outgrew her role as secretary. She stepped over me, and then over the CEO, but she still comes around to giggle at my salt and pepper hair in the morning. Our matching rings don’t hurt either. That’s the new nine to five for me, and I can’t say it doesn’t feel right.
Did you like this story? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!
Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!
Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!
Feel free to share any of my work!
You can follow me on social media! 🙂