Fragmentation

Secret Santa Service

Clueless 

(Secret Santa Service Short Story, 2013)

Everyone who walked into the coffee shop this morning seemed rather disappointed that my nametag didn’t say ‘Rebecca’. I am not the lady who usually is there on Tuesday mornings with your coffee already ready to go. Nope, my nametag says ‘Noelle’, and unlike her who knew most people’s drinks and recognized all the regulars, I have absolutely no clue what I am doing.

 “A peppermint swirl with two pumps chocolate to go!” I yell at the beverage makers; are they called baristas? I’ll be honest, I don’t know.

“And an espresso shot,” the woman in front of me tells me. Again.

“And an extra shot of espresso!” I add. The people making the drinks smile, but I can tell under their smiles they’re thinking about how much of a dumbass I am, how I don’t know anything.

The woman in front of me looks like the type who’d be in a hurry - for a party, rather than a business meeting. She’s decked out in a black cocktail dress with a fur coat making her little size puffier, yet somehow you can see she’s curved underneath the mass.

As she chats on her Bluetooth, I hear her talk about her friend Sarah and how she’s being ridiculous in her manners: she even goes as far as to call her a wannabe-hooker.

I don’t think I’d want this woman as my friend.

“Peppermint swirl, two pumps chocolate, one shot espresso, ready to go!”

The woman nods and walks away, but I have to call her back.

“You didn’t pay yet!”

The woman gives me a dirty glare, her manicured reddish-blonde eyebrow up in an accusatory look.

“You are supposed to ask me for that while I wait,” she says. She pulls the money out of her purse and slaps a five dollar bill on the counter.

I look down at the little cheat sheet underneath the table.

Peppermint swirl; it’s the number 111 because it’s a special and is only an in-season item.

I type that in quickly and type in the money.

It gives out a not correct cost. I do it again.

Again, it’s not the right cost.

A guy hits me from behind, a big grin on his face.

“You’re putting in the numbers backwards,” he tells me. I can’t help but blush and look down and re-type it.

“Don’t you know anything?” The customer asks and I immediately stop. I grip the sides of the cash register and take a deep breath.

She’s just a bitch, its fine. I shake my head, knowing I shouldn't be thinking like that. She’s just not a very nice person, it’ll be alright.

The guy who told me I was typing in the numbers backwards comes back and is looking at me with a sympathetic look to his eyes.

“Are you alright… Noelle?”

I take a deep breath and nod, pushing back my hair and click the open number.

"$2.17 is the total cost, out of five, so $2.83 is your change. Will that be all?” I say, already beginning to run on automatic. The woman gives her a speculative look.

“You did that faster than the cash register,” she says, giving me a skeptical look. I don’t find that that hard to believe, this cash register hasn’t been updated in a long time. It is probably one of the first cash-registers that accepted cards, but I smile at her and take the sort-of compliment.