I know what you’re thinking. No, I am not a drug dealer. I’m a second semester senior who has class two days a week and could really use some extra cash to help pay for my upcoming jaunts to Mardi Gras and Spring Break. Unable to secure one of those cushy work-study jobs this late in the game, I nabbed a gig at the not-so-friendly coffee shop next door. Given the rapid turnover of every other employee that has ever worked at Cream & Sugar, I don’t know why I thought that the work would be harmless: pour hot coffee, add some cream and sugar (hence the shop’s name, duh!), stir, serve. Period.
Wrong. Though my friends often prod about the drugs, honestly, I’m preoccupied with the complex art of coffee making. I’m elbow deep in ground espresso beans desperately trying to remember the difference between a cappuccino and a latte, while nervously punching buttons on the ornery cash register, which never seems to have the right amount of money in the drawer. I am supposed to warn customers that there is a crucial difference between the macchiato that they serve at Starbucks and the real macchiato that we serve. Apparently Cream & Sugar has an inferiority complex to Starbucks. I just nod in agreement, and hope that nobody ever orders one.
But two weeks later, I’m still going strong. So come visit! I’m the goofy looking kid who will stare blankly when you all look eagerly at our menu and proclaim your desire for a double mocha lite-n-sweet Americano.
