I laughed. “Well, that happens with any fast-paced business. I’ve found that there are usually more happy customers than angry ones though.”
“True,” she suddenly looked serious. “Doesn’t it make your blood boil when you realize that these big companies use the cheapest ingredients in their food and charge top dollar for it? Doesn’t it make you want to scream when you realize that the profit margin on a cup of coffee is four hundred percent?”
What? Where did she get that ridiculous number from?
“Um…”
“I’m starting a personal revolution against all fast-food and coffee chains,” she whispered. “They should be donating their money to third world countries and helping our nation’s poor instead of getting rich.”
I sighed. “I’m pretty sure Autumn Wonder donates six hundred million a year to social programs and invests—”
“That’s a lie!” she reached over the table and put her finger against my lips. “Don’t be fooled by their propaganda, Ethan!”
Oh god…
“Okay. I’ll take your word for it.”
“Good,” she moved her finger back. “I’m glad you came out with me tonight.”
“Me too…”
The waiter set our calamari on the table and I picked up my fork.
“Don’t you dare eat that!” Rachel swatted it out of my hand.
“What? Why not?”
“Brothers and sisters!” she stood on top of her chair. “Friends and family! Slaves to the almighty dollar! Join me in the fight against these trite food corporations! Put down your forks and fight with me right now! No more eating cheap food and paying top dollar for it! No more funding these corporate big wigs’ pockets! All of you stand with me! Stand with me right now!”
Silence.
Everyone in the restaurant stared at her. I heard a straw drop to the ground.
Rachel got down on her knees and knelt in a prayer position.
“Forgive them father,” she whispered. “They know not what they do.”
I give up…
Lola adjusted my name tag and swept a lint roller across the brim of my hat. She hummed the refrain of Frank Sinatra’s “The Coffee Song,” and looked me over a few times before deciding I looked like the perfect Autumn Wonder employee.
“And don’t forget to wear the most important part of our uniform, the smile!” she smiled widely and blinked, waiting for me to smile back.
Can I tell her that I’m the CEO right now? This is getting ridiculous…
“Look! It’s your very first customer!” she whispered and pointed to an elderly woman who was making her way into the store. “Good luck, Ethan! I believe in you!”
The elderly woman approached the counter and looked up at the menu board. “I just want a regular cup of coffee. None of that fancy stuff. How much is that?”
“Four dollars, ma’am.”
“Four dollars! For one cup? Are you crazy! I can buy a whole bag for that price!”
“Well ma’am, it’s—”
“Ma’am, you probably can buy a regular bag of coffee for four dollars,” Lola rushed around to the woman and handed her a cup, “but it won’t taste half as good as ours. Why don’t you try this out for free? Then come back tomorrow and let me know how it tasted.”
“Well, alright...Thank you, doll!”
No wonder we’re not making enough money!
As soon as the woman walked out, I sighed. “We give free coffee to anyone who complains about the price?”
“No, we—Shhh, there’s another customer.”
A man wearing an “I love Arkansas” shirt, clearly a tourist, walked over to the bakery glass and looked over the pies.
“I’ve never heard of a cherry bourbon pie before,” he said. “The tag here says this is the best cherry bourbon pie in all of Arkansas, is that true?”
“Yes sir,” I pulled out the pie and placed it on the counter. “This is the best—”
“No it’s not,” Lola snatched the pie from me and placed it back behind the glass. “I don’t want to lie to you sir. The best cherry bourbon pie is two miles down at a bakery called Sweet Seasons. It’s absolutely phenomenal! One slice will change your life!”
WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING?
“It’s that good?” he looked like he didn’t believe her.
“Trust me! If this is your first time in Arkansas, and you want the best pie our state has to offer, go there right away.”
“Well, thank you for your honesty,” he smiled and walked out.
“We just lost more money,” I tried to remain calm.
“I know.”
“The purpose of a business is to make money, not lose money. And I’m pretty sure—actually I’m one hundred percent sure, that the company handbook doesn’t say anything about hand delivering your customers to a competitor!”
“I’m sorry,” she folded her arms. “Are you the manager?”
Don’t blow your cover…
“No. No, I am not the manager.”
“Really? Well, are you the head baker?”
“No. I’m not.”
“That’s right,” she nodded her head. “You are a coffee barista and a green apron barista at that! You haven’t even earned the black expertise apron! You—”