Unpretty Me

Now Brewing #04: Coffee Burnouts and Genius Idea

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Luke slouched on his couch, a cup of cold coffee in hand, his phone balanced on one knee as he typed out a message to SirenAngel. He had just finished another chaotic day at That's So Brewed, and his brain felt like a soggy waffle.

The staff had been dragging their feet all week. Everyone—from baristas to bakers to booksellers—looked like they were ready to tap out. Even the usual joys of latte art and sarcastic book recommendations weren't lifting their spirits.

Luke cracked his neck, stretched his fingers, and typed:

LukeTheFluke: "Ever feel like your entire team has been replaced with zombies? Not the cool movie kind either—just... tired, caffeine-powered ones."

It didn't take long for Isla to respond. She was lounging in bed, munching on the last of her potato chips while Marina the mermaid plush supervised from the nightstand.

SirenAngel: "Yeah, I know the type. They order oat milk lattes but still complain that they taste like oats."

Luke chuckled. He loved how effortlessly funny she was.

LukeTheFluke: "I swear, if I see one more employee stare blankly into space while steaming milk, I might lose it."

Isla twirled a lock of curly hair around her finger, her mind wandering. As usual, she had no clue that LukeTheFluke and Luke, her boss who never remembered her name, were the same person. She tapped back a message without thinking too hard about it.

SirenAngel: "You know what you need? A team-building weekend. Take everyone to the beach, play some games, drink a little, bond over shared trauma of annoying customers. Works wonders."

Luke stared at the screen, eyebrows raised.

A team-building retreat? That... actually wasn't a bad idea. And it was far better than his original plan of handing everyone Red Bull and hoping for the best.

LukeTheFluke: "That's genius. You're a genius. We're doing this."

Isla smiled at her phone, feeling oddly satisfied, though she had no clue she had just accidentally made her own work weekend way more complicated.

The next morning, Luke gathered his employees in the café on the first floor of his three-story pride and joy:

- That's So Brewed on the first floor.

- You're So Kneady, the bakery, on the second floor.

- Treat Your Shelf, the bookshop, on the third floor.

He clapped his hands together. "Alright, everyone! Listen up!"

The baristas looked up from their machines, mid-espresso shot. The bakers peered down from the second-floor balcony, flour on their faces. A bookseller poked his head from behind a bookshelf on the top floor, still clutching a hardback novel.

"Next weekend," Luke announced with a grin, "we're closing all three stores for a company-wide beach trip!"

Silence.

"Like... all weekend?" asked Bea, a barista.

"Yes! Friday afternoon through Sunday!" Luke said, feeling rather proud of his decision.

This was met with a murmur of disbelief and cautious excitement.

"So no customers?" Rey, the baker, asked, brushing flour off his apron.