Koon Chai Cafe

Chapter Four - Smashed Plates

Park

You've got to be kidding me. 

I've been working here for two whole years without a single student from school finding out, and now this guy just happens to wonder in here on his first day? 

I'm gonna have to move. Create a new identity and run. If anyone finds out, they'll become regulars here and I'll never be able to escape them. 

He looked just as shocked as I did. His mouth was slightly open like I'd punched him mid-sentence and his eyes were as wide as dinner plates. 

"What do you want?" I snapped at him, maybe if I made him think I wasn't scared he'd leave me alone and not tell anyone. 

"I, uhh-" he stammered, caught off guard. 

He took in a deep breath and started again. 

"I'm the new barista here, did management tell you I was starting?"

"What?!" This was the last reason I'd expected. "You're the new guy? What would someone like you need a job like this for?"

None of it made sense. I mean I'd already confirmed the guy was loaded, I heard two students gossiping about it in Biology earlier, apparently his family owned some mega Thai corporation or something. 

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, "My Mom makes me work to keep me grounded." 

Jesus Christ. 

"Rich people" I muttered, rolling my eyes sarcastically. 

I sighed and pointed to the back closet, "There's a spare uniform in there. I can trust you to get changed on your own, right?"

He blushed bright red and nodded and shuffled into the back, closing the door behind him. 

I leaned on the counter, my head in my hands. This is a nightmare. He was gonna tell everyone, I could feel it in my bones. School was already close enough to Hell as it was, this little addition was just like buying a bumper pack of spear sharpeners for the demons to poke me with.

Kopter walked out of the closet behind me. The uniform was way too small for him, the seams were straining at his shoulders like they were about to burst. Serves him right for working out. 

The next few hours were what I'd describe as, well, exasperating. 

He was hopeless at every single task I gave him. Chai Latte for table three? Enough sugar to send someone into a diabetic coma. Mango Sticky Rice for table five? Ninety percent rice with one tiny slither of unripe mango. He even messed up pouring juice into a glass and spilled it all over the counter. I mean come on, how sheltered do you have to be to be this bad at everything? 

But his countless mistakes weren't what infuriated me the most, it was people's reactions to them. He'd mess up their orders and they'd respond with a kind smile and ask to take a picture with him for their food blog. Girls would come in, see him, and excitedly text their other friends to come. It was ridiculous! 

By the end of the day I was seething. 

As I wiped down the final table, I felt him tap on my shoulder. 

"I'm gonna go now..." he mumbled, clumsily handing me his uniform. 

I snapped.

"Look. I don't care what 'Mommy' says you have to do, this is my place of work and I need it. This isn't a joke to me, so for the love of God just quit and leave me in peace."