First day of work.

I felt stiff in my new work attire, and it was hard to know if it was the clothes or me being a couple steps away from a panic attack.

It was 10:30 am on a Saturday morning and I was at my new workplace, dressed in the black dressing pants and white shirt I’d bought a couple of days before. On top of that, I had a black apron with the name of the shop written in thin cursive, golden letters, and a black bowtie around my neck. My boss, Ms. Maria, who insisted I just called her Maria, no matter how uncomfortable that made ME, was very satisfied with my appearance.

There was nobody in the shop at the moment, so she walked me through everything I needed to know. It was a relief to see that the coffee machine worked exactly as I had studied in the videos, but M-Maria insisted she’d be taking care of preparing the orders herself unless something came up.

She showed me where all the cleaning utensils were, showed me the back door leading to an alleyway where we’d throw away the trash, and gave me a notepad to take orders.

“Just relax,” she told me, noticing my stiffness. “You’re not a surgeon operating on someone. You’re a waiter carrying coffee cups and sweeping the floors. Even if the shop is gaining steam, we’re not a huge restaurant that serves over 20 customers at the same time. Note down what people order, which table it was, bring it to me, and I’ll tell you when it’s all ready. If we have many people, prioritize order of arrival.”

“W-What if two people arrive at the same time?” I asked.

Maria chuckled. “Pick one, attend to them first, then the other one. Simple, right?”

“Yes…” Dumb question, obvious answer. I’d just have to be quick.

Not two minutes later, the door to the shop swung open with the sound of the bell above. Maria and I turned around to see, and before she could welcome the day’s first customers, the words died in her mouth and she started giggling.

“You have good friends,” she whispered to me.

I sighed with a small smile. “Yes. Yes I do.”

Mila, Grace Sarah and Thomas all walked in, waved their hellos and sat down at a table for four. No, not just a table for four. That was table six. I needed to start thinking like that. They all scanned the QR code on the plastic plate on the table with their phones to look at the menu, though the girls had it memorized by now.

“Go. Put to use everything I told you.”

I nodded, and even though these were my friends, I still walked stiffly towards them.

“We’re a little late,” Grace said.

“Please tell me we’re still your first customers?” Mila asked.

I nodded. “Maria says Saturday mornings are slow.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Maria?”

I sighed. “Say she’ll fire me if I call her ‘miss.’”

Thomas snickered.

“Thanks for coming,” I told them, smiling. “What will you have?”

“An espresso and a donut,” Thomas said. “Do you have chocolate filled ones?”

My chest froze for half a second. I didn’t know. I hadn’t thought to check what donuts we had or didn’t have. I glanced towards the display, but I couldn’t make them out. I swallowed.

“I’ll check,” I told him.

“No, don’t worry. Chocolate filled if there are. If not, vanilla glazed.”

I nodded and wrote it down the way I would if they were any other customers.

-Table 6: Espresso + donut (chocolate > vanilla)

My hand shook, making my handwriting a bit messy and slow. I noticed that every moment I spent writing was a moment a customer was waiting. It made my heart race.

“I’ll have a fresh orange juice and a croissant,” Sarah said.

-Table 6: Espresso + donut (chocolate > vanilla); Orange juice + croissant;

“Mmm… Just a fruit tart,” Grace said.

-Table 6: Espresso + donut (chocolate > vanilla); Orange juice + croissant; Fruit tart;

Looking at the menu on her phone and scrolling down with a scowl, Mila asked in a voice low enough for only us to hear, “Can I have the waiter? To go is fine, too.”

That almost made me drop my notepad and all my friends burst out laughing.

“...The waiter is busy until 7:00 pm,” I said with a resigned sigh. Even here I wasn’t free of their teasing, it seemed.

“A nine hour shift?” Grace asked. “As a part timer?”

“Eight,” I corrected. “Lunch hour doesn’t count. Maria says Saturdays are the busiest days. The shop closes on Sundays, so I’ll have those free.”

“I’ll toast to that!” Mila laughed. “With hot chocolate and a slice of lemon pie!”

-Table 6: Espresso + donut (chocolate > vanilla); Orange juice + croissant; Fruit tart; Hot chocolate + lemon pie.

I excused myself and went back to the counter to report the order to my boss.

“You guys get along well, huh? Aaah, youth! How I miss it!” Maria moaned theatrically, yet she got to work on the orders not a second after hearing it. “Can you pour the juice? We do have chocolate donuts, by the way. If you ever forget, feel free to ask me, but don’t leave in the middle of taking an order to check. Take everyone’s first, then check that we have everything they ordered all at once. If not, you may have to do several trips, and that’s inefficient.”

I nodded. First order and I was already noticing how much I didn’t know.

The juice dispenser had several transparent containers with slowly rotating blades to keep mixing the liquids inside. Managing it was as easy as setting the glass, pushing a button and watching as juice poured itself. You did have to push the button again to stop it, though.

Sarah was the only one who ordered juice, and Maria had just finished Thomas’ espresso and was now preparing Mila’s hot chocolate, so…

“Should I get the pastries?” I offered.

Maria smiled. “Yes, please.”

“Do I use these plates?” I asked, pointing to the short tower of small plates next to the display.

“Mmhm! That’s what they’re there for.”

My friends over at the table weren’t talking at all. Those four sets of eyes were on me, watching me like eagles. Talk about adding pressure. I ignored them in favor of looking at every pastry in the display, committing to memory (as well as I could) what we did have.

I got the lemon pie, the donut, fruit tart and… what else? Oh, the croissant! I set them all on a tray that Maria had gotten ready. She finished with the drinks and reached for a drawer to take out three small forks. I’d forgotten that.

Maria then whispered. “Ask your big friend if he’d like a fork and knife. Not many people use them to eat donuts, but it doesn’t hurt to ask and it’ll earn you points with other customers. Maybe even a nice tip.”

Now came the part I was most worried about. Carrying the order to the table without fucking up. They tray had everything on it, and lifting it wasn’t a problem. It wasn’t heavy. No, what I worried about was walking with that thing, accidentally tipping it over to one side and having everything slide off, or just tripping like an idiot.

I walked slowly, to the point I must have looked ridiculous. It was embarrassing, but I made it from the counter to the table without dropping anything.

After everyone had their order, I shot them a little glare. “Don’t you guys have anything to talk about? You know, instead of staring at me?”

“Oliver,” Maria called. “That’s no way to talk to our customers.” Despite the grin on her face, I still flinched. She was right, after all.

“Don’t worry, ma’am!” Mila told her with a grin of her own. “He won’t even dare to speak like this to anyone else.”

They all laughed while my cheeks burned. The real question was if I’d be able to talk to other customers at all.

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