A Little Something Different

October (Charlotte - a barista)

Charlotte- a barista

Getting stuck with this god-awful morning shift all by myself is basically the worst thing that has ever happened in the history of my career at Starbucks. It’s this new manager, she doesn’t seem to understand that I have to always work with Tabitha or Keith. They keep me level and they keep me from wanting to strangle customers.

And look who just happens to walk in- Gabe the loser. It’s an interesting and terrible phenomena about working at Starbucks, you really do get to know the regular’s names. And unfortunately they get to know yours. Gabe’s been coming in for a long time, though he wasn’t around much last year. I almost missed him, but now he’s come back, flakier than ever.  I’m pretty sure he’s talking to himself right now.

 Tabitha and Keith like to pretend that Gabe is some kind of special snowflake. That he’s the cutest, shyest, most wonderful boy on the planet. Personally, I think they’re nuts. I think the kid is straight up loopy and in the worst way possible.

“Hi,” I say as Gabe gets to the register, trying to put on my best Starbucks smile and failing.

He says nothing, continuing to stare at his shoes.

“Hello!”

Nothing.

“Yo! Dude!” I glance around the register to find something to flick at him.

The girl behind him nudges him and Gabe looks up.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“S’okay,” I say, even though I really don’t mean it.

“What can I get for you?”

“Grande coffee, room for milk.”

“Sumatra or Pike Place?” Normally I would assume Pike Place, but Gabe mixes it up sometimes.

He stares at me like I’m speaking a foreign language even though it’s a pretty basic and obvious question.

“Sumatra or Pike Place?” I’m practically yelling. It’s ridiculous.

He stares at my lips and does a weird combination of a shake and shrug. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

I point at the urns behind me that say “Sumatra” and “Pike Place.”

“Oh, Sumatra’s fine,” he says. I feel a little bad, his cheeks are a burning red that you usually only find on cinnamon candies and he’s blinking a lot as he hands me a gift card.

For the life of me I can’t figure out why Tabitha has such a gigantic crush on him. She could do better, I think, as I hand him his drink.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, digging deep into his pockets and dropping a few coins in the tip jar. I have to fight the urge to thank him profusely for his seven cent tip. Wait until I tell Tabitha and Keith how weird he was today.