Sunshine in a Bottle

Insights into the Male Persuasion

“Decaf, please,” the harried looking woman in front of me ordered. Business attire? Check. Permanently attached mobile device? Check. Perfectly applied makeup that almost managed to hide the fatigue on her face? Check. Most likely a personal assistant of sorts to some major corporation.

“Will that be all?” I asked, punching in the order on the electronic cash register. I continued at her nod, “That will be four dollars and fifty cents.” As she swiped her credit card, I randomly added, “You know decaf is actually more unhealthy than caffeinated coffee? I mean, sure, less caffeination and all, but there’s also less antioxidants and it’s highly acidic because otherwise the flavor would be lost after the decaffeinating process and - “ A stiff hand on my back made me stop talking abruptly.

“I’m very sorry about that, miss,” the owner of the shop apologized to the shell-shocked woman. “Your order will, of course, be on the house.”

“Well,” she managed finally. “I would assume so.” Then she stalked off haughtily towards the pick-up counter for her unhealthy, free cup of coffee, muttering that this would be the last time she decided to go out and get coffee at such an ungodly hour in which everyone was clearly not sane.

“Amy, man the front for a while, would you?” The girl who was in the process of making an order looked up, surprised, but nodded and removed her apron while I was dragged into the back of the store.

“Would you care to explain what that was back there, Holden?” The auburn-haired, thirty-something year old woman hissed at me, crossing her arms intimidatingly.

“What do you mean?” I gave her my best innocent look. “It’s not my fault she clearly doesn’t recognize the side effects of choosing to drink decaf. If anything, she should be thanking me. I could have just saved ten years of her life.”

“How long have you worked for me?” The random change of subjects threw me for a bit.

“Um…I would say around one and a half years?” I thought, mentally counting back the  months.

“And how long would you say you’ve been on this earth?” She continued.

“Well, that’s twenty-two years,” I answered her more confidently this time, still unsure about where she was going with this.

“Now, I would say that that amount of time is more than a couple of days isn’t it?” She asked me condescendingly.

“Err, yes?” I hesitated.

“Then please, explain to me again, why you’ve made more mistakes this week than a green recruit fresh out of high school,” my boss stated flatly, unamused.

“I haven’t - ” I began to protest. She raised a finger to stop me.

“As of today, you have broken five mugs, dropped a package of disposable cups and rendered half unusable, given three people the wrong order, and chased away two customers. Don’t tell me that that’s nothing.” She paused for a moment to take in my discomforted expression before pressing on. “Are you pregnant?” I promptly choked on air, my eyes bulging out of my head as I hacked like I was a ninety year old chain smoker with lung cancer.

“No!” I managed to sputter out, my face gaining a slightly green tinge. “No!” I reiterated, as if one time wasn’t enough.

“Do you owe someone money? Did someone order a hit on your life? You suddenly found out that you’re royalty and engaged to someone thirty years older than you are?” As the guesses grew wilder and wilder, my head shaking grew even more fervent.

“Then you had better have had a dying grandma or something, because I have put up with your newfound clumsiness for a week already and it has shown no signs of disappearing.” I hesitated, determined not to crack. I wasn’t going to bombard my boss of all people with all the nitty gritty details of my personal life. Talk about unprofessional. She raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for an answer. I cracked. Like an egg. On burnt toast.

“It’s...a guy,” I revealed reluctantly. “I liked him and I’m pretty sure he liked me, but then…” I trailed off, unsure how to exactly explain how I had gotten into a car crash with that same guy and started a fire in his kitchen.

She scoffed. “Should have guessed. Listen to me; here’s my advice on those of the male persuasion. They’re all idiots. Sure, some are better than others, but when it comes down to it, their true colors will be revealed. All you can do is accept this fact of life, kick them where it hurts if you need to, and move on.” For some reason, I could imagine her downing a swig of alcohol from a flask at her side out of nowhere. Then when I blinked, I realized that it was actually happening in real life. “Men,” she scowled, swallowing another mouthful of a liquid that looked suspiciously alcoholic. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.” Then she shook her head, and gestured to me. “You got that?”

Petrified, I could only stare at her in shock. She snorted. “Take the rest of the week off. Clear your head. Beat up whoever he is until he’s crying for mercy. Make up with him. Whatever. Just make sure that when you come back, you have whatever this is,” she waved at me, “done with.”

“I…thank you?” I started, confused. I was pretty sure that she wasn’t getting exactly the right picture of the whole thing. Then the words ‘take the rest of the week of’ made sense to my sluggish, brain. “Thank you!” I stated, more firmly this time.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she grumbled at me. “Stop thanking me now, brat. It’s not like I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart. Be prepared to make up for the slack when you get back.”

“Thank you!” I couldn’t resist adding as I quickly ducked out, dodging the apron that was thrown after me in response.

“You better not return as your sorry self when you get back!” she yelled after me. I saluted her and turned around, almost crashed into a businessman walking in, and then almost tripped on the curb as I quick-stepped to the left to avoid the initial crash. So maybe my boss had been onto something with this week of leave after all.