Not Greg Heffley's diary

Starbucks

When you open a book, you'd expect the story to have a plot, something to catch the reader's attention, an element allowing people to keep on reading right? Well... honestly, whatever this piece of writing is does not possess it. There is no beginning nor ending, and as there is no plot, there won't be plot holes either — amazing, right?. I guess you could say this is my personal diary, or a more elaborate Twitter account perhaps, more characters, less hashtags (even if I do use them actually #controversial #OmGsOeDgY).

Anyway, if you're still interested, my name is Grace, and I'm 19. Just like many people of GenZ, I have never managed to fully maintain a journal, so here is my 70th attempt of doing so. The date? Oh yeah, right... because we need to keep track of things. October 19th 2020, 4.17pm, in front of the StLazare Starbucks. Why writing in front of it rather than inside you ask? Well... I work here, and this is my five minute break. Normally I'd smoke but, I'm currently out so, here I am, attempting to put words on thoughts that run on caféine rather than a decent amont of sleep and sanity.

5.38pm
I'm on cleaning duty and the first floor is weirdly empty: won't complain, won't stand either.
It's so weird. I get so bored here I've been trying to make some sense into the frequency of people coming in and when, but it always seems to change. However, it does not keep me from observing. Not that I see it written, I notice that I've always been the observing type.
—- First year of school I used to tell on my classmates when they were lying about what there were doing because, I knew. Gosh, no wonder I didn't have much friends until middle school — when I stopped caring about what people my age were doing, and started watching adults instead. —- Even if it's inconstant, I do recognize faces now and then. There is the girl, probably in her twenties, bringing all of her tinder dates here, saying everytime after her name's been calling that she "had never been into this Starbucks before", sentence which, as interesting as it was, could not be more ignored by the date.s obviously using this girl as a distraction from the fact that they still have feelings for their exes. Then, there is Blondy. Charming, polite, nerdy, two kids from what I've seen, and, perhaps, divorced. This is acknowledgeable by two elements : no ring, nor significant other coming with the three on "family weekend Starbucks" as he likes to call it. I actually don't know much about them, all I know is that they were my first clients when I started in September, and that they never use the same names — it's probably an inside joke between the three. His daughters have always been respectful of the place, and are one of the reasons I really never have to do anything when I'm on cleaning duty. Then, on Mondays from 9 to 11.45am, there is Jo. Jo always orders a grande Americano with two pumps of vanilla, and always stays upstairs, reading, right where I'm actually seating actually. I could make a vague description of more clients, but Jo, my colleague, is calling me to take over.

6.04pm
Ok I went to the bathroom just to correct something because it was stressing me out to know that there was already a confusion in the amongst the first pages of this diary. Since there are two Jo's, the client, and colleague. Let's let the client keep their names, and name the other Jo, JoB —because he's the barista. I know it sucks but at least I'm not anxious about it anymore.

~10pm-ish
We finished closing and putting everything back an hour ago. Now I get to tell you about the best part of my day: the leftovers. Basically, every piece of cake, cookie, pancake, pastry or whatever that is broken cannot be sold. Meaning we get to have then when the day comes to an end. I mean, i'm broke so, if my dinner is meant to be a carrot cake with a blueberry muffin then so be it. I'm not picky when it comes to food: as long as it tastes good. Life is already sucky enough, I might as well enjoy my plate. The ride always takes forever to arrive, but at least it's one of the moments I can do nothing without feeling like I'm procrastinating on my studies. I just watch people not respecting the red lights as they almost get hit by the bus, swearing because that's all they know how to react, and dream of my warm and comfy bed.

10.56pm
My cat took over the bedroom apparently, but I still managed to squeeze myself under the covers. They're cold though, heat broke down in the building — or so my neighbor told me. I mean, it's fine, it's not like we were going to enter winter soon anyway right? My hand hurts, I have nothing to say to you right now... i mean the first paragraphs or writing are fun but, what I am suppose to do here? Do an historical description of myself? Just recap my days as they go by? Write non-sense thoughts? The three? Bruh I don't know. Last time I was this clueless it was actually when I was 10 and went to my first coffee-shop alone. Oooh actually Imma tell that one 'cause it's a funny story.

Basically my mom was often taking me to Starbucks when we were just the two of us, and, I don't know for sure what she was ordering for me each time but it tasted super sweet and super good. Unfortunately, I'd never actually listened to her talk to the baristas, which led to "my first accidental coffee order". To put some context, I was out of school and it was almost summer so my parents were letting me go home by myself as it was not super far on foot. But, hey, for SOME reason, on that particular day, I had decided to take the subway alone for the first time, at 4.30pm, to go to the nearest Starbucks I knew (only a few stations fortunately). I knew what I wanted, that pure sweetness with frosted strawberry and a bit of caramel. However, I think I forgot —but quickly got reminded but reality— that I was a ten year old. Ten year olds are SHY, especially me. I was so shy with adults I barely could argue with my parents like a normal kid. So, when I arrive in front of the counter; only my head showing a bit; I was completely speechless. Honestly, I got lucky, the barista was nice, and totally understood the situation, which led to him explaining to me a few of the drinks I could have. It could stop here but, nooooo, what would be the point telling it right? Anyway, here he is, enumerating tasty sugary drinks, and right before I make up my mind, I hear his colleague yell "a caramel macchiato with extra for Samantha". I turned around to see this wonderful cup, dripping with whipped cream and a sweet smell... "I want what she just got!" I exclaimed to the guy, but he made a weird face "Are you sure? I think you wouldn't like it much", which is the logical thing to answer to a ten year old asking for a drink full of caféine when they came for a "fraise à la creme" (I just remembered the name of the actually drink). "Yes yes yes please!" I said over-excitedly. I mean, right now he could have told me there was poison inside I could not have cared less. Samantha had extra caramel? Bitch I wanted to be Samantha.
So here I was a few minutes later, tasting my drink outside. And, besides the fact that I was already late in comparison to the normal way back home, I almost chocked on the cup as it was my first taste of what coffee was like. Nonetheless, I still drank it because I'd paid for it. Feeling sick, I took the subway and went back. During that time, a weird feeling got through me. Excitement, energy, happiness... I felt as if I could do the whole day again, I even remember saying "that's awesome" before running home.
Ok now imagine the face of my parents after their 10 year old come in late from school, on cafeine, at 5.30pm, worried as fuck I'd gotten killed on the way. That's it, that's the tweet... and the awakening of my cafeine addiction.