PETRA
Chad closed the restaurant on Saturday morning so that we could have a staff meeting. We sat in the lobby, each one of us at a table. There was me and the two other morning workers, the counter staff, the assistant manager, and Chad.
I couldn’t help comparing everything that he did to what I had done as the owner of my own shop. I never would have closed the place down for a staff meeting. I worked them in after hours or on Sundays. The thought of closing to foot traffic on Saturday seemed ridiculous, but who was I to complain?
I’d had to come in at three that morning anyway to prepare the goodies. Just because the store was closed for an hour didn’t mean it was going to stay closed the rest of the day. People would be lining up to make sure they could get their hands on one of my creations. As soon as the meeting was over, the counter staff would have to hustle to clear the lobby and the counters so they could open at nine.
I didn’t envy them. I was off for a few hours after the meeting, but then I had to come back later that afternoon. I hated a split shift, but Chad didn’t seem to care. He didn’t care about a lot of things, and that was what made working at that particular bakery a chore.
I loved early mornings before anyone else arrived. I could put on my music and dance around the place. I pounded out the dough and molded it to perfection. A lot of heart went into the donuts and muffins I baked. That was my little gift to the world, but it didn’t seem like Chad appreciated it.
He droned on about staff schedules and did that thing that I hate where he obviously had a beef with one staff member but instead of talking to them directly, he brought it up in a staff meeting.
“I wanted to make you all aware that you are not supposed to prop open the back door. It’s a fire hazard, and it will attract the wrong kind of attention. If anyone feels the need to prop the back door open, please don’t.”
One of the other bakers leaned over to me. “I don’t see how it’s a fire hazard.”
“It was probably just Jamie going to the dumpster,” I reasoned. “It probably wasn’t propped open for more than a minute.”
“In other news,” Chad went on, “we’re going to have to postpone the renovation of the store front. I’m working with the bank to secure a loan, but that’s going slow.”
Everyone groaned. Not that it affected our paychecks at all, but the lack of decorum probably did mean fewer tips. The bakery was busy in the morning, but it petered out during the day. With a more attractive storefront, there were guaranteed to be more customers and that meant better earnings. For some reason, Chad didn’t understand the direct correlation.
He had a few more nitpicky items on his agenda, but finally he let us go. I stood up as the counter staff raced back to their places. They had to brew the coffee, turn on the backlit menu, and fix all the tables and the chairs. Glancing outside, I saw there were already customers waiting.
“Everyone in the back,” Chad said, waving his clipboard.
“I’m off,” I told him.
“Well, you can’t hang around front,” he said.
“Says who?” I asked. “I’m gonna get a cup of coffee.”
“If you’re going to stay out front, make yourself useful,” he decided. “Help Andrea fix the tables and then open up the door.” He tossed me the keys.
Just great. I was going to be forced to do a little bit of unpaid work in exchange for the coffee I was definitely going to pay for. It wasn’t fair. I put it down on my great big list of things that annoyed me about Chad.
Following orders, I helped the counter workers rearranged the tables in the lobby before opening the door. Like a good little soldier, I got in the back of the line instead of cutting right up front. I got my coffee and then couldn’t find Chad to give him the keys back. By the time I finally found him, I had burned a half hour on the stupid coffee, and it wasn’t even that good.
I should have gone to a proper coffee shop after leaving the meeting. When would I ever learn? I took my coffee, now half-finished and completely cold, and left the building. I didn’t know where to go. I had to be back in a few hours to take over at the counter.
It seemed that the afternoon counter person hadn’t just been sick. She’d decided to quit without notice. That meant Chad was leaning on me to cover her shifts, and as long as I was available, he probably wouldn’t see any urgency in hiring someone new. I wished there was some way to talk to him that he would understand. The man was deaf as a doornail when he wanted to be. The only things he seemed to care about were trifling little annoyances that didn’t bother anyone else.
I decided to go see Meara. It had been a while since we’d sat down for coffee, and I needed someone to unload on. I texted her, thinking it might be a little early. But she was up and responded almost instantly.
Come to my house!she wrote. We’re just finishing up breakfast.
Which house?I asked because she had three boyfriends, all of whom retained their own residences.
She sent me the address, and I hopped into a cab. Arriving about twenty minutes later, I buzzed her apartment. She let me in, and I rode the elevator up to her floor. It was a much nicer place than mine, with golden sconces on the walls and mirrors everywhere I looked. I didn’t know which of her men owned this place, but they were clearly in a much higher tax bracket than I was.
Meara met me at the door. She was dressed in her pajamas, and she looked radiant. Her smile was bright enough to light the world, her skin soft and her hair done up in a perfectly messy bun. I gave her a kiss on each cheek, following her inside and depositing my cold coffee in the trash.
“Do you want another cup?” she asked.
“Sure,” I agreed. “I just came from a staff meeting.”
“How was it?”