Chapter 7
Maya
Maybe today could have been a beautiful day. But it's not. Because this cursed coffee machine keeps hissing. And it's staring at me. It puts pressure on me, and I can't handle pressure.
Just as I hesitantly reach for one of the many levers, the function of which I knew during this morning's briefing, my boss, Annika, leans over the counter toward me. "One mélange, two espresso, and a large chai latte with soy milk," she reads from the small notepad in her hand even though I haven't even finished her previous order.
"Coming right up." I sound more confident than I feel. At least I know which cups and glasses to use for the drinks. I grab them from the shelf and place them in front of me on the chalked wooden countertop.
Now what? I'll start with the espresso. And then... what was it again? A mélange?
I whirl around in search of help. But seeing how many customers in the café are waiting for their orders only makes it worse.
"What's wrong?" I don't like the amused smirk on Annika's face.
I smile awkwardly at her. "Um... that was one espresso, and...?"
She blows a stray strand of her disheveled hairaway from her forehead, only for it to find its way back to its original place. "Write it down if you can't remember."
More pressure. Great.
I quickly look around for a notepad. Over there, at the end of the counter, is one, along with a pen. "Just a moment, please," I say and hurry off so fast that I almost stumble over my own feet.
I march back to my boss a moment later. "I'm ready to go." I put the pen to paper, only to realize that the damn ink pen isn’t working as Annika rapidly recites the order once again.
Is anything going to work here?
"...and a large chai latte with soy milk. You need to keep up, Maya. We can't keep our guests waiting for so long." With raised eyebrows, she gestures toward the relaxed people chatting behind her.
I really need to deliver now, but as soon as I'm back in front of the coffee machine, it's as if someone wiped my memory clean. There are just too many levers and buttons. But I don’t dare ask Annika the same question again as I did half an hour ago.
I place a cup under the machine's outlets and randomly press one of the buttons. A hot cloud of steam rises in front of me.
"My God, what are you doing?" Before I realize what's happening, Annika stands next to me, stopping the mist from escaping from the nozzle under my nose. "Did you hurt yourself?"
Her scrutinizing gaze meets mine, and I shake my head. "I'm sorry," I stammer.
She looks at me for a moment too long. Surely, she's considering what to do with me. "Listen, Maya..."
"I'll get the hang of it. I promise." My fervent nod must convince her even though I don't even believe it myself.
Her features soften at my words. "It's my fault. I've asked too much of you. Can you empty the dishwasher?"
Of course. After all, I'm not a complete idiot. Or am I? "Already in progress."
I do my best, but even in the following hours, things just don't go smoothly. Two cups break while unloading the dishwasher, a guest complains about the wrong milk in their coffee, and a piece of cake slips off the cake lifter. When it finally calms a bit after noon, I take the opportunity to catch my breath. For the first time today, I look at the sun-drenched room with its unique furniture. Every table is different, and every chair is unique. Although the decor seems haphazard, everything fits together perfectly.
However, I'm starting to doubt whether I fit in here myself. Probably not. But I don't have a choice. The barista job will at least keep me from being homeless. Besides, there isn't much else I can try.
My gaze falls on the pretty woman with the neatly tied platinum blond ponytail and heavily made-up lips at the window table. She is saying goodbye to her much younger friend with a handshake. As the friend leaves in a submissive posture, I notice the piles of documents on the table. Every available space is filled with empty cups and glasses, most of them bearing deep red lipstick marks. The blonde must have been here all day.
So it was a business meeting. Obviously an unsuccessful one, as the elegant lady doesn't lookhappy. Just like the young woman who hurriedly leaves the café.
"Could I have a glass of water, please?" The blonde's voice reaches me from across the room.
I give her a friendly nod and get to work.
"Your water, please," I say cheerfully as I place the glass in front of her a little later. Then I start gathering the empty cups. "Can I get you anything else?"
