“Can you hop on the front?” he asked before he even said hello.
I looked up from the pan of goodies I was arranging. “Hello,” I said.
He frowned, as if by asking for common courtesy, I was being rude. “Can you hop on front?”
“I’ve been here since three,” I informed him.
“The afternoon counter girl called in sick,” he said, picking up one of my chocolate croissants and putting it in his mouth.
“But I—”
“It’s just three more hours,” he cut me off.
I didn’t want to say yes. More than anything, I wanted to go back home and change into my pajamas. I had a romance novel I was reading, and the dashing hero was calling to me. That and a few crackers, maybe a glass of wine, was all I really had energy for. But Chad wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He stood there staring at me, continuing to eat my creation until it was just crumbs on his fingers.
I sighed. “I don’t have anything to wear.” Looking down at my work clothes that were covered in sugar and flour, I made it clear that I was in no shape to deal with customers.
“Hang on,” Chad said, wiping his hands on his shirt. He disappeared into his office for a minute and came back with a bakery T-shirt. Plain black with the logo emblazoned on the front, it was clean at least.
I held out my hand. It looked like I would be working overtime. The things I put up with around this place were ridiculous. Where else could I be so devalued and relied upon at the same time?
If I quit, he would be up a creek without a paddle. No one else would ever agree to work such long hours for such little pay, but I had no choice. I had to pay the rent. As soon as I had energy, I resolved to hunt for a new job. In the meantime, it was on to the second half of my shift, as a customer service representative.
I didn’t bother to fix my hair or wash my face. Ducking into the bathroom, I peeled off the dirty shirt and pulled on the clean one. I knew I probably looked shell-shocked from exhaustion, but obviously Chad didn’t care. I doubted he would even stick around long enough to finish out the shift. As soon as he was sure the front of house was taken care of, he would roll back into his car and drive away.
What a charmed life he led. When I would be the owner and manager of my own place, I would put in the work. I would never leave it all up to my employees, much less forced them to work while I was goofing off.
I liked the bakery, and I liked the customers, I just couldn’t stand Chad. Pasting a smile onto my face, I soldiered out to face the rest of the day. It wasn’t looking good for my romance novel that night.
I would probably just fall into bed the moment I got home because I had to be up to do it all over again the next day. The life of a pastry chef definitely wasn’t glamorous, but it was my calling. I couldn’t help it; feeding people made me feel good.