I walk into my local coffee shop and stand in line. It's winter, so everyone is lining up to get their hot chocolate, their double espresso for work, or their unnecessarily complicated drink order that takes 5 minutes to be entered into the system, and 5-10 minutes to figure out how to actually make it. Most of the time, you can tell who's going to order what. Usually I'm against stereotyping people, but you can really just see their drinks in the way they dress. The people that are dressed up all formally often order very simple, caffeinateing drinks. The teenage girls, long-haired, that wear all kinds of beanies, even inside, and have the most mainstream shirts possible? You guessed it, the complicated drinks. If you look at the line, you can see a ton of them, asking themselves what they're going to drink, what unique combination they can order to stand out. It's ironic, really, how they follow the status quo to a tee, but then they try to be different and stick out.
10 minutes pass, and there's only one group of people ordering together in front me, now. I can see that I'm next, so I take a peek at what kind of food is left. They only have cinnamon rolls and chocolate muffins. I had a muffin yesterday so I'll take a cinnamon roll.
I get to the front of the line and am greeted by a familiar face. "I take it you're having the usual and a cinnamon roll?" the barista guesses. I nod and pay, to make sure that the others in line don't have to wait very long. I pick up my order a few minutes later and find a spot. I take out my laptop, just a HP Notebook (I got myself the cheapest one I could find compared to the features, so that I can look for jobs) and boot it up. While waiting, I notice that the coffee shop's radio is on. "Cool Kids" by Echosmith is playing. How ironic.
Hours pass, and it's 16 minutes before closing time. Most people have left and there's noone in line, surprisingly. The barista walks over to me and seats herself in front of me. "Still looking for a job, huh?" I look up from the computer. "Yeah. I haven't been able to find anyone who is willing to give me a job. I had the right qualifications for every job I applied for. I don't see why they keep denying me a job." I tell her. She asks for my CV, and just when I'm about to tell her that I don't have any more with me, I remember that I still have a copy in my bag. I give it to her. "Why, is the a position free, here?" I ask her. She chuckles. "God no! And even if there were, do you even know how popular baristas are these days? They're like the new bartenders." I see her point, but find her comparison kind of stupid. I mean, seriously, who would rather mix coffee than alcohol? "So what then?" I ask her, taking the last sip of my now cold cappuccino with a bit of vanilla syrup, stronger coffee than usual and a lot of chocolate powder on it.
She looks at me with that expression on her face that everyone has when you ask a question with an obvious answer. Disbelief that you don't know the answer already, mixed with confusion, with a touch of added pressure. They want you to indicate whether you're being sarcastic or just plain stupid. I know that look too well from my high school years. I don't change my expression, knowing that she will realize that I am being serious. She starts to explain: "You're not the only one who comes here often! I'll ask the other regulars if they might have a job for you. Go home. Get some sleep. You look like you need it." I'm not that happy, but I feel like I should be. I tell myself that I'm just too tired and reply: "Thank you." She doesn't hear me. She's already gone, picking up all the used plates still lying around, needing to be cleaned, so that they can start being useful again.