Penny Bleed 1/30/06

I am sooo tired. I didn't get my morning Starbucks cause my local one is closed for remodeling. Fuckers. Some guy comes into today wearing a huge fanny pack. The fanny pack of death which marks people as a tourist. I feel back for him. People should not sell these things anymore. It only causes embarassment and instant hatred towards anyone wearing one. A double machiatto is two shots of espresso with foam spooned out onto the top of it. A cappucino is two shots of espresso with foam on top too. These are the same drinks. Only the machiatto is more expensive. ALWAYS ORDER A CAPPUCINO! The Spaniard tells me she has diaherria. She asks me what she can and can't eat. I tell her no coffee, chocolate, caffiene, cigarettes, dairy, etc. Things that make your system go faster, ya know? She tells me that she has no life without all these things. I DO tell her she can eat solids like bread and meat and fruit (NO PRUNES). She ain't happy. A man comes in who smells like my dad. A man I dispise and have deep rooted hatred for. He smells like my dad so much that it makes me think of my childhood and I am confused. I throw a penny at my manager and make his finger bleed. A creepy couple orders coffee but I cannot help but flinch at them. The man looks like Napoleon Dynamite if he was htirty years older. The woman looks like a mix between Morticia Addams and if that girl in the well from The Ring had downs syndrome or a really bad case of mono. They give me the wiggins....boring day.

Busiest Day Ever!

Ok, listen up bitches. If you are rude to me or use a sarcastic/demanding tone, you ain't gettin no smile and "Have a good day." You getting an icy look of death and cold coffee. Today was my busiest day EVER! I had credit cards and cash flying at my face all day ith customers barking in my face and CONSTANTLY adding on to their orders after I had rung them up. Some bleach blonde cunt needs tin foil for some gad damned reason and when I stop EVERYTHING I am doing to get it for her she calls me rude when I give her a "get the fuck out" look afterwards. "Damn right, I'm rude, bitch now go chew on your tin foil and leave!" Some high and mighty Polish chick acts like she better than me but seeing maoynaisse smeared across her face as she eats her sandwich in front of me makes me feel superior. I am declaring all out WAR against the Russian. If you have been reading, you know about how angry I am that I am expected to refill milk and supplies when I get to work and then before I leave for her when she opens. Ok, so when I arrive at work, I get everything I need and then move to the register, and then she goes to the register in the back where she gets about 5 customers every half hour. Now I have been getting slammed for about an hour and a half when I start running out of milk and cups. I make a quick list of what I need and tell Mocha Boy, who has broken into a sweta behind me, to give it to the Russian and have her get the shit for me. 10 minutes later, Mocha Boy returns carrying all the shit on my list. "Did she get it for you?" I asked him. "No. She said it is our responsibility." "No...no! no! no!" ............."Listen bitch, when I ask YOU to get some thing, I mean YOU! Not him! Why? Because I need him to make the fucking coffee for me and I need to run the damn register! You are standing down here, sipping your damned iced tea and doing your nails! You wanna tell me why you can't go get the damn shit yourself? Get down off your fucking throne and do some damned work! I have never once seen you bring so much as one fucking cup up from that fucking basement, so don't fuck with me cause the only thing that beats a diva is a homo, so fuck you!" I walk away. "Bitch best not make me get my nameplate ring and leave an imprint on her face!" I mumble under my breath. A man with an eyepatch orders from me. Not an ordinary pirate "argh!" eyepatch, but some weird filtered thing taped to his left eye. I keep trying to to stare but he catches me repeatedly before storming off. Oops, my bad. Another man, who is not all there mentally, wants a pina colada smoothie. He asks what is in it, and I tell him the mix, milk and ice. "No, I mean what's in the mix?" "Um...." I read the label. "Coconut, pineapple, water, vitamin C." "Oh see, I tried to make a pina colada smoothie at my house and it tasted disgusting." "O..k.." "I put in a pina colada and ice and that milk from a can and it was gross!" "Condensed milk?!?!" "Yeah" "I imagine that would taste pretty gross then...you're not supposed to drink condensed milk straight, it's used for cooking." Just then his aide comes up and ruches him out the door looking extremely embarassed. And finally, just a note about something that annoys me. If you want two or more forks, then don't ask for "a fork," ask for two or more forks cause otherwise you're just getting one...and don't look at me like I'm the stupid one, you said A fork!!

Asian Leather Daddy

Right outside my cafe, a man tried to hand me a flyer that I could see from half a block back. It said "Hot Naked Women." I laughed in his face when he tried to hand it to me and sidestepped around him and in the front door of my cafe. Can't people tell who the 'moes are? Today was like an Asian Invasion in my cafe. I would say about 80% of customers were of Asian decent. Apparently Canal St. is trying to take over Soho in one fell swoop. We ain't having it bitches! But the most hilarious thing in the world is an Asian leather daddy. He was wearing chaps over his jeans, a tight leather vest with no undershirt underneath his leather biker jacket. He had on a chained biker cap and was apparently trying to grow his version of a trucker 'stache to failed attempts. He looked like a child molester with a big wardrobe budget. A European man who looked waaayy too much like a woman tried to pay for his $3.80 latte with his $10 Metrocard. I tell him it is impossible. He looks at me confused like he thought it was good anywhere like a little credit card. WRONG! After repeated attempts to tell him he was incorrect, he reluctantly gave in and paid in cash. A man who looks like Neo/The Matrix from a bad sci-fi convention orders espresso. He is dressed all in black. Trenchcoat, dress pants, black shoes, baclk shirt, slicked black hair and black sunglasses. One problem with his whole Matrix look though. There was a huge Armani Exchange logo in white on his black shirt. Plus when he took off his sunglasses, he had downs syndrome eyes. Soooo not the chosen one. He pays and sits down and it takes me about three minutes of standing there saying "sir" over and over again to get his attention to get his god damned espresso. Oh, and the pain in my lower back is gone. Yay!

Big Ass 1/25/06

My stupid tight ugly hat makes me forehead break out. At least on fucking zit a day, which sucks cause the rest of my face is clear. Hell is forming in the mirror in front of me. I find out today that a man is cheating on his girlfriend/fiance/wife. Yesterday he was in all over this one chick, today he was in all over a different chick. I wonder which was is the steady one. I hope they find out about each other at my cafe so I can see a good cat fight. I find out that the black girl's name, the girl who works accross the street is either Jo or Joan. I couldn't really hear her cause i was busy and the music was loud. It was a steady boring day. Some guy with a pink mohawk comes in. The same color I used to have streaked in my hair. I tell him how often he should tough it up and to go to Ricky's to get the good hair dye. He may have though I was hitting on him, but I was just bored and needed someone to talk to. I have a message for the snotty emo-fag that came in today. Your fag hag has a huge ass, so stop telling her she's gorgeous. It's only going to make her fall more in love with you than she already it and give her higher self esteem than she should have for a girl with a big ass.

Beard Of Defiance

So now I am back to work after a long weekend with my sister who came to NYC to visit me. We spent the whole running from one place to the next so she could see everything. The Latino Thug keeps calling me "son." I am NOT his son and refuse to be referred to as such. I am wondering if this whole "son" business is just a subconscience primitive quest for dominance and repect, the deisre to be the Alpha Male. ??? Since the Mayor told me that he likes me clean shaven, I have decided to grow my beard of defiance. I don't wanna shave. Make me! The Latino Thug, my Manager and Mocha Boy are all obviously talking about masturbation in Spanish. Apparently, the correct verb for such an action is "POM! POM! POM!" while moving one's fist back and forth. The Russian is stupid and can't count. She tells me I need to get 8 whole milks when there is obviously only room for seven, and 6 soy milks when there is only room for 4. What the hell? I have to drag them back downstairs. These two Jeish chicks who are as dumb as a box of hair order decaf and repeatedly tell me to "make sure it's decaf" as I'm pouring it and when I make it for them, they change their minds to French Vanilla instead. "You know there's caffiene in those, right?" I say as I they drink from them. They both looked shocked. "You don't have decaf French Vanilla?" "Nope." Inside my head, I am basking in my success in beating them. They come back and ask if the wine we sell is kosher. I don't know why they care since they don't even look old enough to but any. One of the Olsen twins decided to grace my cafe with her presence. I can't tell which one it was because one of them always dresses nice and the other one like a hippie. The one who came in today was a mix between high fashion and bag lady chic so Mary Kate...or Ashley...if you are reading this...I have a name and it's not "Hey, gimmie a..." My favorite black girl from accross the street buys some zuccini bread and tries a sample of what we have out. She spits it into a napkin I have handed her when I tell her that people have been touching it all day. I have decided that the Russian is not merely switching back and forth between bitchy and politeness. She is a rare find. A polite bitch. She says things with a mixture of "I'm Better Than You" and "Please And Thank You." She will be destroyed. I just have to come up with a plan. The Mayor's teeneaged granddaughters come in and have lunch with him. The whole time they just sit there pecking at their salads, fake laughing and looking slutty. Again, I use or bread samples but in a bad way this time. Since the girls get free food anyway, I tell them they can just take some real pieces instead of the samples. "Those have been touched by people all day," I say as one of them swallows and then makes a disgusting look at me. A foreign man of indistiguishable origin comesin with his girlfriend and pays for what he has ordered. He handed me a dime when I needed a nickel, which he had in his hand. I put the dime back in his hand and took the nickel. "Five is bigger than ten?" he asked me, "Yes," I replied. He then said something to his girlfriend which I can only assume was a foreign "five bigger than ten" penis joke because they both burst out laughing. We had a small electrical fire today. Two extensions cords started smoking where they connected while one of the men I worked with quickly unplugged one of them. I just watch the smoke loom in the air before disappearing towards the ceiling. I probably would have died if I kept watching it the way I was and the fire got worse. Oh, well.

Ghetto Wino

Some people I work with are seriously not all there. Two of them keep pouring bleach straight onto the floor and using whole bottles at a time. Even close to heaters or heated things. Hooray for toxic gas! I am summoned to the basement office once more. I walk in and the Mayor is on the phone. I had two cups of coffee before I showed up and I am nervous for no reason. I sit down and her talks on the phone for about ten minutes, barely acknowledging my presence. My leg is shaking. I am biting my nails. I am just edgy. I stare at the poster of the orangutan on the wall with its tongue out. I watch the security cameras looking at my co-workers...spying on them. My manager comes in and we kinda just stare at each other for a while, waiting for the Mayor to get off them damned phone. Finally, my manager tells me that they need my info again. Address, social, birthdate, full name. They lost what I wrote it down on last time. I run upstairs as fast as I can after writing it all down again. For some reason, the Spaniard is being a bitch. She is yelling at my for doing my job and for doing things that aren't even my job. She must be on the rag. I will wait it out. This married chick comes in with her husband and they are apparently out of town. She asks me if I know if the club/restaurant (I don't know what it is) Tao is "happening" tonight. I tell her I have no idea. "I only go to the gay clubs." "Oh...good." "Yeah." "Do you like drag queens?" "Um...as friends." "So you're not attracted to them?" "No...I like them but I am gay which means I am attracted to men, not men dressed as women." "That makes sense, I never understood that whole thing." She turns to her husband, "Honey, do you understand--" He cuts her off. "Do you have to open that book?" He looks at me. "I'm from L.A. I know all about it." "Good for you." An elderly woman but not too elderly, like 50's or so, who is very high class, orders wine from my friend who works behind me. We're gonna call him Mocha Boy from now on. Normally but very fast she says "Two glasses of white wine please." Mocha Boy: "Excuse me?" He hasn't understood her. "TWO GLASSES OF WHITE WINE!!!" Me: "What kind?" "White!" "Yes, but what kind?" "Chardonnay!" "Ok....(under breath) stupid bitch.." I get her her wine. "Anything else?" "WHITE WINE!" "It's right here. Would you like anything else besides the wine?!" "Water." I know she is not hard of hearing, because when I am getting her the water, she is talking to her daughter quite normally without hearing aids or aids of any other kind. A man named Javier comes in and orders two frozen cappucinos. "Are you Charles?" "Yes." "I work across the street. The girls told me to ask for you." "Oh, that means you get it for cheap." "Cool." I fix him two frozen cappucinos and he goes to leave. "I have to remember to send something over for you." "Ok............" It makes me excited in anticipation. Nothing shows up for the rest of the day and I am disappointed. Two adorable and not at all pretentious French men come in and order coffee. I say adorable because they are holding hands so obviously thy bat for my team (unless this is a strange macho French custom among hetero men) and they look in love. They don't bother me. Near closing, a woman orders a glass of white wine. I go to pour it in a wine glass and she asks if I can pour it into a coffee cup with a to-go top. I oblige and I am happy. "No offense," I say to her, "but this is really ghetto...and I love it." "It is really ghetto but hey, I'm a wino at heart." "Ghetto is not a bad thing. I am ghetto, and you being ghetto makes me like you rather than hate you for even stepping foot in here." "Well, on your way out tonight, steal a bottle and enjoy yourself." "I just might." I don't though. "I would normally just drink it out of a glass but I need to get buzzed and my boyfriend's friends are all total conservative fucks." Oh, how I love this woman.

Where You At, Bitch? 1/19/06

I cut my arm open on the freezer door today. Blood, ew. I have a prolem getting milk for people when I leave for the day. I am told that I have to stock the milk freezer because they do it for me for when I get there. But they don't do it for me. They wait until I get there and make me go get it. So from now on, I am not stocking the milk before I leave. A black guy comes in and orders black coffee. "Like you." I think. I am not racist I swear. It jsut popped into my head. Some Asian guy comes in and want coffee. All he does is repeat "coffee" over and over again. "Coffee! Coffee! Coffee!" Perhaps he is a bit retarded or maybe he's just REALLY addicted to coffee. A blonde chick from the store accross the street where the cool black girl works comes is and models her clothes for me when I ask what kind of clothes they sell. I like her jeans. A hippie lesbian comes in and wants a bottle of water but leaves when she finds out that it's over $2. She comes back ten minutes later and buys it anyway. A woman sitting in the wrap-around booth in the back jumps up and screams. A cockroach attacked her. It was about 3 inches long. I laugh so hard I have to retreat to the kitchen for a few minutes. I make TONS of tips today because I am awesome. Playing with the register, I find that if someone came in and bought just one of every item that we seel, the total would be $803 and some change. I make a ballerina out of the corkscrew we use to open some over the wine bottles. I put the arms up towards the bottle cap remover and make it gracefully glide across the counter. Wow, I am bored. A man comes in with a blonde woman and he looks suspiciously like James Frey, author of A Million Little Pieces and My Friend Leonard. But he is drinking Budweiser so unless his books are in fact ficticious, I will assume this is not him. A random woman who looks like she is upper middle class runs in, steals some bread and runs out. I have no idea what I should do but no one else working seems to care that much so I shrug it off. I am summoned to the basement office to talk with the Mayor. He asks me about school and when I think I am going and what classes I will take, etc. He tells me that I will be making $7/hour. I tell him that my manager told me $7.50. We banter about this for a while before he says "Fine, if he say you get $7.50. You get $7.50. I talk to him later." Yay me! As I am leaving, the Hispanic Thug is in the back booth with two cans of bug spray screaming "Bitch! Where you at, bitch?! I'll fucking kill you!!" I leave quickly and hope the cockroach either dyes fast or gets away and attacks someone else soon.

The Knowledge Spreads...

Check it out.

They Want Me Dead

I dyed my hair black last night. At work, when my manager sees me, I get a double take from him and he makes a terrifying face. A mixture of "What the hell?" and "Oh My God!" I'm not sure if he likes it. The Japanese girl loves it. She says the blue black color is what she tried to do to her hair but since her hair is already black, it didn't work. I tell her to dye her hair a dark blue and it will have the same effect. (Hopefully.) I have a headache even before I get there today and my stupid tight hat doesn't make it better. I think it must be caffiene withdrawl even though I had my morning Starbucks. Bring on the coffee...I drink as much as I can. I also drink water and take some Motrin. My headache fades but never entirely goes away. There were only three people in the whole cafe when I got there too. Slow, slow day. Odd because of the cold weather outside. I think the tumor on my back is actually a bruised bone. I must not have noticed that I hit it on anything. I deduce it is a bruised bone because only the bone hurts, not the muscle. I busted open my left index finger too. This job is dead set on destroying me starting with my mind and now working on my body. I quickly bandage it before my blood can infiltrate someones mochacino. There is something odd I notice today. I am very good at noticing patterns. Today, either people paid exact change or when they didn't, their change was multiples of 4. ($.04, $.08, $.16, $.32, etc.) Or their change is a palindrome. ($1.01, $2.12, etc.) This weirds me out. Some idiotic slag asks me for a cell phone charger when she notices her phone is dying. "Do you have a charger?" "A charger for what?" "My cell phone." "Um...no." I think, "Do you really think that by any chance we would have a damned charger? And if we did by some chance have one that it would be the right one for your phone? Please go die in a hole somewhere." If you know me, you know I pace when I am bored, on the phone, nervous or strung out on caffiene. Today was a mixture of boredome and caffiene. The Latino Thug asks me what I am nervous about. "Nothing," I respond, giving him shifty eyes to make him think I am lying though I am not. Today, all day, the music overhead is nothing but Indian/Arabian dance music. It makes me want to belly dance and I kinda do though to some people it may have looked like I was having an epileptic fit and about to blow chunks all over the cheesecakes. But no, I was dancing. This fat guy I work with who my co-workers refer to as the "fat, stupid one," even to his face, smells like poppers and cum. I find this weird because he is married. Do straight guys use poppers too? Three Irish women who are lushes come in and keep ordering beer and wine. Wow, they think the word "bar" in "coffee bar" is literal. I identify them as "lush with straight blonde hair," "lush with curly blonde hair," and "lush with wavy brunette hair." They leave but I wish they would stay. We have giant roaches, which is odd because we are relatively clean. But roaches don't care about that, they care about food and darkness which we have plenty of. But these aren't normal roaches. They are huge. Like fucking massive. They are never in the coffee area though, they are only in the sandwich making station. I hope they stay there. I purposely spilled coffee on a ditzy streetwalker wannabe. She ordered, I made what she wanted for her, set it down on the counter and she paid. Then she stood there and talked to her friend while the man behind her tried to pay for his stuff. The man told her "excuse me" several times before I reached over her shoulder and grabbed his items so I could ring him up. He told me it was to-go. Perfect oppurtunity. I picked up a bag and put his things inside it, tipping the bag just enough to nudge her coffee still sitting on the counter. One little nudge made it fall over spilling coffee all over the counter, the floor and victoriously, her jeans. She let out a shriek and jumped back. I made her another coffee without her asking me to and without me telling her I would. I handed it to her with a big, fake smile on my face and told her to "have a good night." She glared at me and stormed out. I win.

Espresso Enema 1/18/06

As soon as I arrive at work there is a tall young Asian woman at the counter odering something. I start making it for her and while I am doing so, she pulls out a cigarette and lights it right in the middle of the cafe. I give her a "What the fuck?" look and stop what I am doing. "You can't smoke that in here." "Really?" "Really." I hate her for two reaons. One, she is dumb enough to light a cigarette inside and two, I want to steal it from her and smoke it myself. She drops the cigarette on the floor and puts it out with a twist of her shoe. I am shocked. Someone comes along soon and sweeps it up. She leaves. Soon after, the Spaniard had to "talk to" me. She told me I wasn't closing the coffee bar correctly. Apparently, I need to restock it. "They do it for you before you get here, so you it for them for when they get here in the morning." But they don't do it for me. They wait until I get there and then they ask me to get it for them. I had to rush out of my apartment this morning cause I was late and I didn't get to bursh my teeth, shower or wash my face...but I did manage to to my hair perfectly. My lip is busted open. I sneezed and the next thing I know, there's blood. My lips weren't even dry or anything. I chapstick like crazy. When I lick my lips, I can taste the salty, metalic flesh underneath the skin. A guy comes in and orders a cappucino. I ask him if he wants a medium or a large. He says "small" and points to the teeny tiny espresso cups. I tell him we don't make cappucinos in those. He asks wat we do make in them and I tell him "espresso or machiato". He orders an espresso. After I hand it to him and he pays, he quickly runs to the bathroom with a little waddle. I think he is constipated. He prolly ordered that espresso to give himself an enema with so he could speed things up a bit in there. Ew. I tell myself that this must be true and believe it. I scauled my hand with hot water while making tea for some old woman. There is a bright red welt. A Nicky Hilton look-a-like comes in and does a quick look around the cafe at the things we sell in her fake designer, velour track suit. She leaves. "Take me with you!" I cry out in my mind. For some reason, close to closing time, I get tired and grumpy because I am not feeling well. It's 7:45 and these two bitches come up to me and I put there food in bags because after 7:30, everything is to-go. They ask if they can sit. I tell them no. They sit in the front of the cafe by the big window anyway. I try to burn them with the lasers that are supposed to be shooting out of my eyes at this moment and fail.

I Wasn't Looking At Your Boobs!

On my way to work today, an evil bitch of a woman sprays herself with perfume that chokes me for the rest of my ride. I alsmot want to pull the emergency cord and push her onto the tracks. The Russian is back. It's weird but she asks how my weekend was and is friendly with me. I am cautious around her. Waiting for her to strike. An Asian man orders something but all I am focused on is his Sigfriend and Roy sweatshirt. There is a Hot Chocolate craze today because of the freezing weather outside. A woman orders regualr coffee with soy milk. I get it for and she brings it back. It has chunks in it. I assume the milk is sour but upon inspection, it is fine. I pour her another cup and the same thing happens. The coffee must be sour or something. Weird. In between tracks of bad Spanish guitar (seriously, whoever is playing is awful) they play a remix of Britney Spears' "Everytime" and I shake my booty just so much that no one could really tell. I have to hide my love of her in public for fear of being stoned to death. I see a woman sitting in front of me who looks too much like one of my quasi-lesbian fag hags. I miss her. Brooke Sheilds came in today. (I guess that old woman wasn't lying...or perhaps she is just stalking Ms. Shields.) I go to charge her but then realize who she is and the Spaniard tells me not to charge her. She is six months preggers. I tell her "Congratulations." and she thanks me. She has long brunette hair that just reachesthe top of her bossom. She has a radiance about her and she is as beautiful as a pregnant woman can be. She tips me $5 or $6 and I don't have the heart to refuse her kindness and tell her I do not recieve any of that money. I have to remember to tell her next time she comes in that I will help her plot the assassination of Tom Cruise. A black woman comes in with the most GIGANTIC afro I have ever seen. I quickly get her drink and then turn my back to her to "observe" the flavor shots on the shelf behind me but I am really masking my laughter and mockery of her ridiculous hairstyle. I wonder if she will come in tomorrow so I can bring my beard trimmer to cut the giant dead moose hide off of her tiny tiny head. I have to keep telling people that the bathroom door is closed because someone is in there. These people really want me to piss in their coffee and call it half and half. My friend who silently makes the coffee behind me makes the weird concoction that he loves. Mocha powder, Hot Chocloate powder, half and half, ice and whipped cream on top. He makes me taste it and I can feel the fat ruching to my thighs. It disgusts me. I am waiting for him to hurl. He doesn't, unfortunately. Since I drank Starbucks on my way to work today, I decide to make myseld decaf coffee. It starts to make m fall asleep so I add espresso. I paid for it later when I was going crazy and demanding people who just walk in tell me what they want before they even make it to the counter. I can now empty the espresso machine in one big WHACK on the side of the garbage can. It makes me feel straight and manly. I rock. A college aged girl comes in wearing a white belly sweater (that's right, sweater) over a baby blue tank top with a white khaki skirt ove black leggings with tan Uggs. She is brave wearing this in public but oddly enough she pulls it off well. I tell her I like her weater and the way she says "thanks" makes me think, she thinks I am looking at her boobs. Ew. I start talking Spanglish in my head, filling in English words with the few Spanish words I do know. I wonder how this will osund if I ever speak in such a language. A small black woman comes in and orders a frozen cappucino. I think she is crazy because it's below 20 degrees outside. She says that everyone she works with orders them all the time and she wants to get in on the action. The cappucino mix that I have is frozen. I stick it by the stove and she says she'll be back in 20 minutes. It's not thawing that fast so I fill a coffee pitcher with hot water and put it in. It seems to work better. By the time she comes back, enough has melted to make three drinks. I make hers, she orders one for her co-worker who is with her. I make a couble by accident. I offer the rest for free. She takes it and tells me she loves me. She says she works across the street and they will give me discounts if I ever go inside. I love her too. I like her hair too. Black girls almost always have awesome hair.

NO FREE WATER!

There are two French men who have come in for the past three days and order the same thing everytime. Two salads and ONE glass of Merlot. THis confuses me. I hate them. Again, accents usually make me like someone but these men seem pretentious and I hate the way the pronounce "Merlot" like "Meerloh." A woman who has a child strapped to the front of her in one of those baby carrying devices orders coffee and then returns a half hour later telling me it is cold. Obviously it's cold you foolish douche. I make her another and pour enough milk in it to drain a cow. I give her the "don't fuck with me" look when I hand it back to her and she leaves. She does not return. I notice today that my manager only has about three or four outfits. He always wears the same shoes and pants (the pants don't look bad, I would wear them repeatedly too) but he only had a few shirts. One long sleeved, grey flannel shirt and two or three different t-shirts. He wears the long sleaved ones on cold days like today. I need to take him shopping if he will let me. I semi-make friends with another guy who works there. He has a mustache and a goatee. He works on coffee and I work the register. We have a kind of quiet friendship. We work together without words. It's weird yet calming. A punky guy comes in and trys to tip me. I tell him not to and why, he is almost outraged but goes and calmly sits with his mother/grandmother. I start "cheating" on the espresso machine. I am supposed to let it finish by itself but when we are busy I stop it manually but there should be about 5 more seconds of espresso pouring out of the machine. My manager and the Spaniard are sitting on the far end of the cafe and they are asking all the men (there are no females working today) what their penis size is. When they finally get to me, I respond honestly. I have nothing to hide. A group of four teenage emo kids come and spend two hours horsing around in front of me. I grow tired of them fast but they don't necessarily bother me. Althought they are all wearing the same colors but in different combintations. The boys' baggy khakis are all almost the same color while they all have dark gray, maroon, and black t-shirts, hoodies and hats. I wonder if they plan this or if they are the only colors they own. Many people came in today and ordered a glass of water, which we give away for free. I think that we should charge $50 for water if that's all you are getting. If you buy something else however, even just a cookie, it's free.This begs the question, how many people would pay $50 dollars for water? I wouldn't. Besides, who says water should be free in a semi-high end cafe? NO FREE WATER! You want free water? Go find a drinking fountain in a Duane Reade or something. Perhaps if you were dehydrated or something like that I would feel bad and give you some free water, but that's not guaranteed.

My Broken Heart Is Broken 1/13/06

My friend from a previous job, T pops in. We chat and she gets free stuff like all my friend now do. I popped my blister and was right is saying it was pimple-esque. I had to squeeze out all the puss. I was gross. I am now becoming addicted to my "Bailey's" coffee. Hooray for an addictive personality. A bitchy solcialite brings her vanilla coffee I made her two minutes ago back to me and refers to it as "disgusting." My first thought is "Hey, you're the one who ordered it." She asks what the last coffee brewed was. I tell her it was the vanilla. She asks, "and before that?" I tell her regualr, plain coffee. I brewed it about an hour ago. She doesn't know this. I pour her the coffee and I hope it tastes bitter on her rich bitch tongue. I hope that it makes her throw up on her Gucci shoes. I hope they are ruined. I start telling people not to tip me. I don't care about loose change but anyone whotries to put in a dollar bill or more, I tell them they can take it back and tell them why. Some do, some don't. A smal blonde midget comes in. I'm not sure if I should call her a midget or little person or dwarf. I am not politically correct when it comes to people with dwarfism. Her nose barely reaches the counter. I tell her I like her glasses. They are just about the only thing I can see of her besides the top of her head. Yet another annoying song plays over head repeating "My broken heart is broken." "Really?" I think, "I would say that a borken heart is completely intact. You make no sense, I hate you." I notice that I have a routine at work now. I arrive, get bombed by people for a good half hour, when it dies down, I make my Bailey's coffee...work for a while, take my break around 6/6:30, come back inside, make my dinner (salad), finish working, close the coffee bar, go to the bathroom, rinse the sweat off my face and do me hair, go into the basement, punch out and leave. Two fillipino men ask me to join them after I get out of work. I quickly decline and throw up in my mouth a little bit. Neither of them are attractive in any way and I am completely disgusted by what I think they have in mind. A man comes in wearing a suit that reminds me of Mark Twain. Except his suit is not white, it is large stripes of dark and light blue. I openly laugh as he walks in but try not to as he orders. His shoes are electric blue snakeskin. He has a handle bar mustache that is curled at the ends with wax. It is real. He looks as if he is only in hislate twenties and I am completely baffled why someone would go out into public like this and embarass themselves. Oh, did I mention his staff? He had one. It looked like a Moses staff. It had an unlit lantern on it. I wonder what he could possibly be doing. A sluttier Paris Hilton wannabe demands to know where he credit card is before I even have a chance to give it back to her after swiping it to pay for her order. All I can think about is how good it would fell to have the back of my hand connect with the side of her face. Maybe I have been watching too many Buffy episodes. A woman who should look like she is in her fifties but looks like late fourties with some back work done comes in and gets dangerously close to my face while ordering. Being this close to her though allows me to observe that she has obviously had her lips done and that she should sue her doctor because they are losing their elasticity and beginning to drop and are kinda lumpy. She has had Botox. That is also looking quite lumpy. Her eyelids are melting down to meet with her eyelashes. They don't look happy to see them. This woman is also dressing far too young for her age. Her top is so low cut that I can see the skin folds/flaps in her cleavage. "She should have done the boobs, not the face." I think to myself. Her jeans are so tight that I vaguely detect the cellulite growing in cottage cheese clumps on her ass and thighs. She is also quite tanorexic. She is wearing a dark tan belt with rhinestones that matches her skin tone exactly. I feel sorry for her and decide to give her decaf when she asks for regular...maybe it will slow down her rush to the plastic surgoen today.

Milk Bubbles 1/12/06

I have finally mastered making cappucino. I find that the foam looks like milk bubbles. I think that I could just take a straw and blow bubbles in the milk and no one would know the difference. I will test my theory soon. My roommate C comes in. I give him about $40 worth of sandwiches, gooies, coffe and smoothies forabout $8. My friend M comes in again, she gets about $15 worth of food and coffee for free. I am becoming addicited to Tangerine POM. So many addictions in this place. Someone drops a Blockbuster card on the floor and I pick it up. I ask my manager what I should do with it. He tells me to go to Blockbuster. I think about renting as many porn/softcore movies I can and not returning them just so that the man who owns the card is extremely embarassed. Have yet to do so. Don't know if I will. My blister is now for some reason turning neon green. I think my pinkie may fall off. I make about $35 dollars in tips and then I am informed that no one gets to keep the tips. The Mayor gets them all. If you ever tip anyone in a coffee shop...or anywhere for that matter, please ask them if they are allowed to keep them or not. Keep your money or slowly slide the cash across the counter, as long as no one else is around. The Mayor must be killed. I am told by the Latino Thug that my manager used to be around 300 lbs. This is why he has "chi-chis." I laugh but I can see it. THey aren't big but they are present. He is still losing weight so I am sure they will go away.

Trapped In A Freezer

Today was a slow day/night. My friend M came to visit me today. She is from my hometown. She brought a few friends with her. I gave them about $10-$15 dollars worth of coffee and drinks for around $2.50. The blister on my finger starts to have a green whiteness to it and sort of resembles a sideways pimple. I think I may have gangrene and vaguely detect the smell of almonds. I got trapped in the freezer today. I was in there getting milk and suddenly the door closed behind me. The inside does not have handles. My eyes open wide and I am terrified. I start pushing at the edge of the door with all my might. It doesn't budge. I think about what it would be like to die in a freezer. How long it would take, what it would feel like. Would it hurt? Would I actually be frozen in one position? When will someone find my body? I am stuck inside for 10-15 minutes. You know how I escape? I switch to the other side of the door. I push it once and it opens. Apparently, the door does not latch and I was pushing the wrong side of it. The Russian was absent today. I hope for no return of her. My day is almost stress free because of her. Almost. The CD playing over head skips like crazy today and someone keeps having to run to one of the offices downstairs to change it. I have no idea where the office is because our basement is like a huge fucking maze. I know where I punch in and where I get the milk. That's about it. Tons of blondes pour through the door today. Each alone but every single on the same. Hair just a little bit too blonde but they all have perfect skin and make-up. I hate them and love them at the same time. Oddly enough they all basically order the same thing. Which is a Honey Vanilla Latte thought they change it up. Some order it with skim milk, other soy and the ones who will always be naturally skinny order it regular. A man named Juan Llamas gives me his business card today. Says he works at a marketing firm that is based out of L.A. Says to give him a call. I still have his card and every time I read his name, I think of actual llamas. But his last name is not pronounced "llamas," it's pronounced "yamas." Which in my bad Spanish translation mean "you talk/you call"...? Anyway, I like it. Llamas are my favorite animals. The Latino "thug" who works next to me at the salad bar only speaks to me in Spanish now. I know he knows English because he talks to customers and other employees in English. I wonder what his motives are and if I will have to bludgeon him to death sometime soon. Another friend J comes in tonight. I make her a smoothie that costs over $5 and give it to her cheap. We talk for about 10-15 minutes before my manager shows up and I go outside with her. She says her smoothie is good. We chat a little and then I have to go back inside. The owner of my cafe is called "the Mayor." He comes up to me behind the coffee bar when it is slow and tries to strike up conversation. It's hard to tell through his accent if he is Hispanic or Italian. It keeps changing. He asks me if I go to school and I tell him that I start at the end of the month. (Hopefully.) He says that when I do we can sit down and figure when I go to class so that I can still work there. He would like for me to "keep the working," and then he abruptly walks away. I wonder if I have just been accepted to the cafe family and he likes me or if I just make coffee fast and he doesn't want to have to find someone else anytime soon. I think I have to start lotioning my cuticles because thy are getting pretty beat up at this place. They are red and peel-y. They hurt. I also have this knot ball of pain on the lower left side of back. It will not go away and has been there since yesterday. Maybe it's a tumor. I fell like I am alienating myself from my co-workers semi on purpose. I don't talk to them. But on the other hand they don't really talk to me. I am trying to understand their Spanish. I catch a few words like "pollo" and "ensalada" but nothing much more of relevance. The CD that has been playing all day has finally stopped skipping and it is now playing a song that repeats "You're so damned beautiful" over and over. (These cafe songs tend to do that.) I think the woman is singing to me because yes, I am that self-involved. It becomes my theme until after we close and I put on my headphones to blare Kelly Clarkson.

1/10/06 It Was A Tuesday

When I get to work today, my shirt and my hat are missing. Someone has stolen them. I go with my manager to the basement to get new ones. He gives me another 2XL, I ask for something smaller. He gives me a medium. It fits better but not tight like I like my shirts. As I am waiting for my shirt as he digs through boxes, I accidentally step on one of those rat traps. The paper ones that you put on the floor and have super sticky crap on them. It's takes me about 5 minutes to get my foot back. He cannot find a new hat for me to wear, so I go to work without one. Hope that I will never have to wear one again. 10 minutes later he comes back to me with a hat. Now this new hat was not like the one I wore before or like ones that my fellow co-workers were wearing now. I put it on and I look like a train conductor. I hate myself. I bend the rim and turn it to the side slightly. Now I look badass-ish. Sweet. I go to make a cappucino for someone and I do. I am amazed. So amazed I almost forget to give it to the woman who ordered it. I have a blister on my left pinkie. I have no idea where it came from. I suppose that it is from being burned at work and not realizing it. It looks like blood and puss is trying to break my skin from the inside. A small thin woman comes in and orders 8 different pastries, all To Go. I hope that she gets fat and gets diabetes...or is plaged with binge eating for the rest of her life because packing up these damned things to go is a pain in my ass and we don't have bags big enough to hold them. Later, I turn to my left and see Patrick Dempsey sitting talking to a woman. He apparently did not get coffee or I would have seen him closer. He stays for like 3 hours talking. He's cute but not overly so. A woman comes in and is what the show Seinfield would call a "soft-talker." Not only is she a soft-talker, she is a cunt. When I ask her to repeat her answers to the questions I have asked her like "Would you like milk in your coffee?" or "How many pieces of cake?" she not only repeats the answers but screams them at me. She says she doesn't want a bag for her food and then gets mad when I do not give her one. I want to jump over the counter and slap her repeatedly. Whatever, I made her frozen cappucino with a little flavor, milk and absolutely NO caffeine. A cute guy walks in. He has an English accent. Normally I would instantly fall in lust with him, but for some reason the way he says "croussaint" makes me think he is pretensious. He sits at the table right in front of my counter and I glare at him as muchas I can before her finally leaves. Another man walks in a orders a Honey Vanilla Latte with lots of "honeys." This man should be murdered. Not only murdered, but murdered and then fed to homeless cannibals that live in various parts of New York City. I have met them, we have an agreement. Today was not a very busy day. I get bored easily and I have noticed that passing time is easy if I clean things constantly. I am becoming OCD about it. Anytime there is a crumb or little tiny drop of milk or coffee, I immediately need to clean it up as soon as possible. This may become a problem. I find that we have very tiny bottles of wine that when poured, are exactly on glass full of wine. I wonder if 1)I can take any home, 2) If there are midget wino-s that these would be perfect for. My friend, the Spaniard leaves around 5pm. As she walks out, she is wearing a vest that makes it look like Cookie Monster is giving her a hug or mugging her for her Prada. I get really bored and after making sure everything is clean, I arrange croissants and eclairs in ways that make them look like they are having intercourse. I giggle all day at them but I don't think anyone else noticed. Around 7, I usually need more coffee to make it through the day. Today, I start adding shots of Irish Creme flavoring in my coffee, pretending it's Bailey's and thnk that if I at least think I am drunk on some level then I can cope with this place. A song by 98 Degrees plays over heard. I have never heard it before. It keeps saying things like "Your eyes," "I love you," "I love your eyes," "Your eyes of love," over and over and over again. It is possibly the most ridiculous, awful most un-musical piece of shit I have ever heard. All I hear is "eyes" and "love." I might get sick. As a final note, I have something to say. To all you bitchy fat chicks, just because you hate youself and your body because of years of overeating and lazily lying around on your ass, don't take it out on me cause I am thin and cute. I will spit in your coffee and wipe the sweat of my forhead with my palm before I pick up your muffin or danish if your treat me like shit again for no reason...or for any reason. And p.s. Fattie, if you order a cappucino with no foam, then you are ordering a latte you dumb twat.

Less Than A Week

I got this job in Soho working at a coffee shop. Hey, back off, it's money. I get trained, after telling them I have experience in coffee, which I don't and I get this ugly hat (which I HAVE to wear damn it) and a polo shirt that's about a 2XL...I am a small. I am the only person who's first language is English. The girl training me is Russian, another girl is Japanese, and all the rest are Hispanic. When asked if I speak Spanish I respond with "No," or "a little." Am told I will "learn quickly" The Russian training me switches back and forth between yelling and pleasant conversation. I am confused and I feel bad getting mad at her because she turns around and is very nice to me. Am mad anyway, try not to show it. Learn about all the different coffee drinks. Can't make a cappuccino for the life of me. If you ask me for a cappucino, you are getting a latte, bitch. Get yelled at for putting cold milk in coffee...I am told to steam it. I thought one of the reasons for milk was to cool the coffee down so it was drinkable. Fuck you, Russian. The Japanese girl tells stories about how her great grandmother and grandmother were geisha...wonder if she's telling the truth or making it up cause of the movie hype. Hmm...if it's true...sweet! There is a tiny woman who also works with me . She is an artist. She is a Spaniard. Whenever she says the word "Spaniard" she holds her hand in a fist over her heart. I love her. We get along well. My manager is also Hispanic. He bends the rules for me. There could be numerous reasons for this. 1) I'm new and he wants me to like my job. 2) He thinks I'm pretty. 3) He knows I am part Italian and wonder if I am "connected." etc. I see many people come in and out. I am told not to charge a few of them. I don't remember their faces. Oops. Some guy tips me $5 cause I am pretty. I smile and thank him. An older woman comes in. She asks me if I have seen Brooke Shields. I tell her I have not. She says she is her mother and that they are supposed to meet there. I think "Neat." An hour and a half passes. Brooke doesn't show. This woman is either nuts or Brooke blew her mom off. A song plays overhead. A woman with a think Spanish accent is either repeating "Marijuana" or "My Iguana" over and over in all the sultriness she can muster. I make a woman's smoothie for her 4 times. The first like normal with milk. She comes back and says her son is lactose intolerant. I say "No problem," and make it with soy. She comes back and says her son is afraid to drink it. I tell her there is no lactose in soy, she doesn't care. She asks me to make it with water. I do. She comes back again and says it tastes like "flavored water." I tell her that's basically what it is. She asks me to make it with juice. I tell her the only juice we have is in bottles and I would have to charge her for it. She refuses to pay for the juice. She complains to manager and he tell her the same thing. She finally bitches enough that my manager tell me "Just make her the damned smoothie and get her the hell away from here." I do. I'm not happy about it. I have only worked in this cafe for less than a week. I already hate people.
An Open Letter To Cafe Go-ers:
Hi, my name is Charles. As much as I wish I did, I don't speak Russian, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Portuguese, or Indian. Sorry. To the many people who try as hard as they can to confuse me with their "Half caf decaf mochalattecino with a double shot of frozen chai" thingies, fuck you. Fuck you hard in the ass....with no lube. To the woman who put $3 of pennies in my tip jar, thanks for the cash but I hate you. To the woman in the awful pink sweater who was a semi-bitch, I charged you credit card TWICE for your $23 dollar order. Take that! On a final note, no, we are not associated with Cosi, yes, I am aware that Starbucks is cheaper, if it bothers you then go there, I don't want you here. Yes, I pour the milk, no, you can't, the sugar is behind you and no, I have no idea what is in that muffin.

Thank you.