|To Remember|

II : A Job To Remember

"Floyd, you're needed at table number 4" Great! Twenty minutes into the job and an extra is already needed.

I'm a cleaning boy at 'The Baking Dough'. That is the name of a café. The café is a bit modern for it's name as it does not have low yellow lightings but white and just as bright as a normal human's eyes would prefer, glass instead of walls and quotes hanging on the walls. And you'd be surprised to know that it did not belong to an old woman but a young 26 year old girl named Raven. She is 26 but her maturity level is really quite high.

I'm not just a cleaning boy, I'm the cleaning boy. Though I'm a bit more than that too. I help in the kitchen every weekend. And I just don't assist, I bake too, well sometimes. And if you ever get to taste a cake made by me, you're gonna be mesmerised. It would feel like a soft heaven in your mouth of whaterver flavor you odered. It will remind you of clouds, rainbows and paradise. I'm not exaggerating because that is what people tell my fellow colleagues.

Apart from that, I sometimes also serve as the guy who takes and hands you your orders. And in today's case a waiter. So, I'm a multi tasker and an all-rounder of this Newyork café. And just as my work varies, my salary varies. I get my money every Sunday, depending on the work I do. I never take days off but instead do all the work and then read with a cup of self-made cappuccino. If anyone ever saw me reading, they wouldn't believe their eyes. 'Cause do the bad boys read?

Well, I grap the paper pad and head out to the table to take order. I hate waitering, if that is a word in the english dictionary, 'cause I have to interact with people. Agreed, I never smile at them and tell them "Hey, I'm Floyd and I'm your waiter for today" as Rory does even though it's an around the corner café and not a fancy restaurant. Nor do I speak out the items from the menu 'cause hey, you've got eyes for a reason, put them to work.

As I approach the table I notice they already have food and maybe they just want more, plus point, a less of interaction and a less of problem for me. It is a family of 5, a couple and 3 kids. When the man notices me standing besides him, he gestures towards the table which is spoiled, I might say. Two or three pastries smashed on the table, merging together. It's a huge mess. So, I was here as a cleaning boy not a waiter. A huge pluse point, no interaction at all.

I quickly paced across the room to grap my 'cleaning tools'. After I was done cleaning I was told to take orders from behind the counter, as of take away section. With a slight frown I popped behind the counter and was ready for a small war. A boy of around 17 years came up to me and asked me for an Americano. I handed him his order and he looked at me a bit confused.

"Can you please write a small note on the cup for me?" he asked kindly.
I pointed to the marker which was placed in the space between us. He looked a bit offended. But I don't write names on cups. I don't like writing random people's name whom I probably wouldn't see again ' cause most of them are tourists.

I watch him as he wrote 'For my Dear Valerine... =)' With a heart and a smily. Oh! How so sweet and beautiful, and cheezy and boring and just so extra and fake.

An hour passed by just the same. Handing people orders and getting smiles from stangers of all kind which I returned with a blank face. I expect it to be the same till this shift ends in about 2 hours.

It was boring as hell until I saw a girl walking in.
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