Confessions Of A Coffee Boy

One man. One cafe. Soho, NYC. Bring it, bitches!

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

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.

1 Comments:

said...

That Japanese girl is going to come back, some nulticolor hair dew and "me love you long time." Cus you know them Asians love color. (I'm Not Haten)


I would like a ham and cheese sandwich and hold the roach please. Thank you.

Popper and cum, mmmm...I'll pass. eewww

1:17 AM  

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