Chapter Text
“I’d like…um-”
There was a pause from the customer, a blonde with a bob hair cut and a pink velvet tracksuit. It was a pause that the cashier knew was going to lead up to a nightmare of an order for him.
“-A Double Ristretto Venti Nonfat Organic Chocolate Brownie Frappuccino Extra Hot with Foam and Whipped Cream Upside Down Double Blended,” The words came rattling out of her mouth, obviously a well-practiced set, ”And…hmm…And a muffin.”
Working as a Barista wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. But that didn’t mean that Henrik “Doc” Vogler wasn’t going to give it his very best. Every part of this job, from the cleaning, to the drink making, to keeping his coworkers in line were going to receive his utmost attention.
“Zhat vill be five dollars and seventy five cents,” The German said as he started on her drink order, “Vhat is your name and vhat type of muffin are you after?”
“Amanda. What types do you have?” The girl asked, peering into the case on the counter. She placed her fingers on the glass as she looked through the different kinds. All Henrik could think about was how he was going to have to clean the case after the woman left.
“Chocolate Chip Cookie Crumble, Blueberry Delight, Banana Nut Bonanza, und, Pumpkin Cream Cheese, the latter is a fall special,” He recited, having already grown immune to the ridiculous names the company gave the baked goods after only a few months.
“Um, okay,” the girl said, “Do you have any that are, like, gluten-free?”
“A dietary restriction?” He asked.
“No, um, it’s just a preference.”
“We haf no gluten-free muffins at zhe moment, but we do offer a gluten-free chocolate chip cookie, as vell as a gluten-free Snickerdoodle.”
“No, nooo, those won’t- Is that really all you’ve got?” She asked, “Ugh, fine. I guess I’ll take a Banana Nut muffin. That sounds like it’s the healthiest one.”
“Zhe calorie counts are on zhe menu-”
“Just give me a Banana Nut muffin,” The woman said, smacking a ten dollar bill down on the counter.
“Alright, just one moment, please,” Henrik replied, somehow managing to keep his professional smile on his face despite his growing annoyance, “I am just about finished vith your drink.”
The woman impatiently cracked her gum as she waited, sighing and rolling her eyes when her drink wan’t ready the moment she wanted it to be.
‘Finally,” She muttered under her breath when Henrik placed her drink on the counter and slid a glove on so he could go retrieve her precious muffin.
He placed that on the counter, and then, after punching some numbers into the register, handed the woman her money.
“Four twenty five is your change,” He said, “Have a nice day.”
“Would have had a better one if this stupid place had gluten-free muffins,” The woman muttered as she finally, finally, walked away.
Before Henrik would go around to clean the case, he needed to check something first. When using the whipped cream, it hadn’t seemed right. It was off, in a way. It wasn’t bad, just off.
After trying it, squirting a small amount onto his little finger for a taste, he found out why.
Someone had used half-and-half instead of actual cream to make it.
If Henrik were to make a guess as to who, his first would the Jane fellow. Either him or the Boston Brat.
He didn’t have too much time to contemplate it, because he set right to making a new batch before another customer came in. The aforementioned Bostonian arrived soon Henrik started, the boy having just finished up his break,
“Scout,” Henrik said, using the boy’s nickname, his real name rarely ever used, “Who made zhe last batch of whipped cream? I vant names.”
Scout recognized that tone. It was one where the older German was calmly trying to sniff out the source of a problem, so that he could go inflict his anger on the proper person or thing. Luckily, for once, Scout was in the clear and could truthfully say -
“Jane did,” Scout said, getting his apron off of a hook, “He made the stuff last.”
“I see.”
“What’d he do that’s bugging ya’?”
“Zhe man used half-and-half in zhem.”
“Oh no, not thaaaat,” Scout sarcastically, “That’s the most awfulest thing that ever happened in the history of ever.”
Henrick’s face clearly showed a lack of amusement at the Scout’s commentary.
“C’mon, lighten up, man,” Scout said, “S’not the end of the world.”
“No, but it is wrong!” Henrik said as he cleaned out the bottle, “Zhere are instructions given, instructions to be followed, and he clearly disregarded zhem.”
“Hey, you wanted whipped somethin’, he gave ya’ whipped somethin’,” Scout said with a shrug, “Half-and-half was probably the closest thing around when ya’ said that. We’re lucky he didn’t try to make it out of, like, used coffee grounds or something. Imagine how that woulda’ gone.”
Henrik still didn’t appear to be amused. Instead of responding, he just set himself to the task of making this right.
Scout didn’t know much about his co-worker. The man was strict when it came to the business, always telling people to get to work, to fix their mistakes, and never making any himself. Always standing up straight, at attention, and bringing the utmost discipline wherever he went.
Made the boy wonder who had stuck a stick up his ass.
Or at least, it made him wonder who the older guy was trying to impress. It was weird. Even though the older man was holding a chain job, nothing outstanding, it was like he was trying to impress someone.
Thing was, there was no one to impress with a job like this. You came to work, you did your job, you got your paycheck, and if you were lucky, you had a job the next day.
That was it.
There were a few exceptions, though. For Scout, the ladies were the ones to impress, especially a certain black-haired one Give them an extra pump of whipped cream, and maybe they’d give you a number, though it had yet to work with his personal favorite customer. There was also one particular customer that Scout’s coworker enjoyed dealing with, that one g-
“Don’t just stand zhere,” Henrik’s voice cut through and interrupted Scout’s thoughts, “If zhere are no customers, zhen find something to clean; go clean zhe drains.”
Never mind impressing anyone, maybe the guy did have a stick up his ass.
After a long quiet period, now in the late afternoon, a fairly nondescript businessman stepped up to the counter,one didn’t feel the need to hang up his phone. This made it very hard to Henrik to take the man’s order.
“Hello, velcome to-” He was cut off by the man holding up a finger.
“Yeah, uh huh. Have you talked to Bernard? Bernard? The guy in marketing? What do you mean we don’t have a Bernard in marketing? His name’s Richard? Really? When did that happen?”
“May I take your-”
“Have you run the numbers on that? Isn’t that your job? It’s not my job to do that. I just tell people what to do. That’s just how business works.”
Scout watched the scene in utter silence, peering up from his mopping to see how the scene was panning out. Though the German had lost his temper a few times with his coworkers, few enough times to count on one’s fingers, it had never been with a customer.
It made him wonder if today was going to be the first.
“Right now, ve haf half price-”
“Business, business, business,” The man moved his finger to actual cover the German’s lips, effectively shushing him, “I tell you what to do, not the other way around. Why is that so hard to understand?”
Though he had been trying to hold his tongue, Henrik felt that a line had crossed a while back with this customer. The physical contact was clearly too much. It angered the German so much, in fact, that he missed the bell signalling the entrance of another customer, despite as large as the man was.
Before Henrik said anything, though, Scout spoke up for him.
“Don’t you touch him like that, ya’ bastard!” Scout said, ready to brandish his mop if needed, “Keep yer’ grubby hands off of my co-worker. You ain’t the first asshole we’ve had today, but if we’re lucky you’ll be the last.”
…Can you give me a second?” The man said into his phone, anger showing on his face, “The idiot Baristas keep interrupting-”
“Are not idiots. Maybe the idiot should hang up phone.”
There was a new voice, a deeper one, speaking now, one from the newcomer into the cafe. This further interruption caused the businessman to glare back behind him at the man.
“Maybe you should mind your manners.”
“Maybe you should mind own.”
“Is this really the type of attitude that you condone here?” The man said, turning to the German, “I’m surprised.”
“No, it’s not,” Henrik said calmly, “So I must ask you to leave.”
The smug look on the man’s face, present for the first half of Henrik’s reply, turned to angry shock. He tilted his head up and looked down his nose at the man.
“I will be sure to leave this place an appropriately scathing review.”
“Nothing you’ve done’s been appropriate so far,” Scout said, continuing with his mopping, “Why should we think that yer’ revew’ll be the first?”
With that, the man stormed out of the building, pushing past the Russian man. The door closed loudly behind him, with the small tinkling of a bell accompanying his exit.
“Deal with people like this all day?” The larger man asked, stepping up to the counter.
“More or less,” The German replied, leaning forward on the counter as he talked, “During lunch, people didn’t haf the time to be as…zhat. It vas too busy. Later in the day is vhen zhe entitled troublemakers come in.”
“Entitled troublemakers? Is that so? I will leave then.”
“Present company excluded, of course,” Henrik replied, replying to the Russian’s teasing, “Vhat drink are you after, Misha?”
Henrik knew the man’s name well. He was a frequent customer, always coming in after the afternoon rush had blazed by. It was a welcome visit. After the hectic crowd, the Russian brought a natural calm, something that Henrik would welcome in this chaotic, sometimes rage-inducing business.
“What do you recommend?” Misha asked, “Anything special on the menu?”
It was a question that the man asked every time, and every time the German was able to recite what was unique to the menu today. Though impressive, it wasn’t necessarily the answer that Misha was looking for.
Maybe, one day, that answer would come.
“I want a black coffee, small, but not smallest. Next one up,” Misha said, trying to remember the size names, “Is called a tall, correct?”
“Yes, zhat’s right,” Henrik said as retrieved the cup and wrote the man’s name on it, “Zhe names aren’t always zhe clearest, but zhat is the next size up. You usually order a small, did you sleep poorly last night?”
“No,” Misha replied, watching the other man get his coffee, “Just wanted more from the ‘doctor’ while he was working.”
“Doing a decent job making drinks does not make one a ‘doctor’,” Henrik argued, placing Misha’s drink down on the counter, “It’s just doing my job. Two fifty.”
The Russian already had the money, five dollars, in hand. Before Henrik could give the man his change, Scout called from the back room.
“Hey, hey, hey! Where’s the caramel syrup bag thing?”
“To your left.”
“Which left? My front left, my back left, or my right left!?”
Henrik sighed.
“Excuse me a moment,” He said to Misha, disappearing back behind the employee-only door.
The moment after he disappeared, Scout emerged. The boy headed straight to the counter, and checked the register.
“Two fifty?” He said, “Out of five, gives ya’ two fifty in change, and-”
Scout took the money, placed the change on the counter, and pulled out his phone. He tapped it a few times, scrolling down until he reached the “M”
“There’s Mother Hen’s number,” He muttered, pulling a marker out from the front of his apron. He grabbed onto the man’s coffee, scribbled something under his already-written name, and then placed the drink back down, turning it towards the customer.
“Alright, Hen’s m’manager, so I have his number, and you two are just bugging me,” Scout said quietly, glancing back behind to make sure that his co-worker was still busy,, “So here’s the deal; gave ya’ his number, call him up, say it was an accident or whatever, and make a move or, just, something, anything. You two are kinda hopeless, especially if this is all yer’ ever gonna do, so consider this a favor from a guy who’s tired of watching the same thing happen every day. Just actual use it, alright? And don’t tell him where you got it.”
Misha picked up the cup, and turned it towards himself, looking over the new addition and hiding it from others’ view. He dropped some of his change into the tip jar, dropping the remaining dollar into his suit pocket as Scout dropped his phone back into his apron.
“-Point of going back zhere to help you if you’re just going to leave,” Henrik came back out of the staff room, “Do you hear me, Scout? Next time you ask for help, stay so you might learn somezhing.”
‘Right, yeah, sorry,” Scout said, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “Just thought I should make sure the customer was happy. Yer’ happy, right?”
“…Yes. Very happy,” Misha said, realizing that the conversation had turned to him, “Good service, good coffee, why would I not be happy?”
“See?” Scout said, “I did good. I’m gonna go finish mopping now, a’right?”
“Zhank you, Scout, and make sure that it’s actually clean, and not just soapy,” Henrik said, moving back to Misha, “Did he get your change?”
“Yes, leetle man did, took good care of customer,” Misha replied, turning to leave, “Am all set. Thank you.”
“Have a nice day,” Henrik said, watching the other leave, “Come again soon.”
And with his favorite customer of the day taken care of, surprisingly quickly, the man went back to work. Normally the Russian man had time to talk, and didn’t run off as soon as he had gotten his drink. That was new.
Had Scout said something, or done something, wrong? If the boy had, he was sure that Misha would have said something about. The boy wouldn’t have gotten off easily, he was sure, and Scout wasn’t acting suspicious in the least. So maybe he hadn’t.
All Henrik could do was wonder about it. Wonder during his shift, wonder as he gave Scout a light lecture for his, for once appropriate, attitude with the businessman, wonder after his shift, wonder on the way home, and wonder as he finally sat down for the first time in hours.
And still he wondered what was going on when the phone in his apron pocket started to ring, and he reached down to retrieve it…
Without even glancing at the screen, he answered the call.
“…Hello?”-