揇id you??Grumpfather frowns.
揕ike I said, I can do better,?Wayne starts. 揑f you want me to throw together a new one with the customizations we like in the shop, I抣l just棓
揟o hell with your customizations.?Asshat doesn抰 even let him finish. 揧ou抮e one barista in one store in Seattle. The Sumatra roast itself is the backbone, and you can抰 improve on boring, no matter how well you craft drinks. This bean has already been bulk shipped as far as Boise. I doubt it would taste much better anywhere else. Shit is still shit.?
Yikes! The coffee isn抰 that bad.
Squeaky teenager makes a sad hissing sound and shakes her head, flipping her long dirty-blond hair over her face to hide. She drops her book on the table and pulls a phone from her stylish pink purse.
I take that as a cue to grab my own bag and stand.
We抮e done here.
There抯 no way I can focus with this drama flying around, but before I head out, I march up to Coffee Lucifer himself.
揌ey, can I ask you something??I wait until blue-eyed death sees me. 揥hat the hell is your problem??
Wayne抯 jaw drops.
I smile at him. Don抰 worry, buddy. I抳e got your back.
Grumpfather cocks his head, staring down at me like he wishes I抎 drop through the floor.
揇epends. Who the hell抯 asking??
I snort. 揑抎 like to ask you the same question. I抦 just wondering what kind of rich ass-clown gets off on starting his mornings by verbally torturing a barista??
揟he kind who owns the place,?he bites off.
揙h. Right, right, right.?I laugh harshly. This guy thinks he抯 something else, doesn抰 he? Talk about exaggerating your title.
Like the owner of the entire Wired Cup franchise梐 multi-billion-dollar corporation梥hows up in random stores just to grump at people making minimum wage plus tips.
No way.
I抦 sure Mr. CEO has flawlessly pressed espresso served on silver platters, all while lying poolside at some exotic villa, somewhere far, far away from here.
揂re you finished? You don抰 have to self-insert into business that抯 not yours,?he growls.
Somehow, it feels like he grows another inch, towering over me higher with every snappy remark.
揂nd you don抰 have to be a huge jackoff to this barista. The coffee抯 fine. It always is when Wayne抯 at the helm. He抯 easily the best guy here,?I say matter-of-factly.
He stares through me.
揑 have nothing to prove to you梬hoever the hell you are,?he mutters.
I hold up my paper cup.
揕ook. I just had a cup of the same new drink you did. The coffee抯 fine. There抯 nothing wrong with it. For a big chain, it抯 pretty dang good. Now, I抦 sorry the coffee isn抰 up to your high and mighty tastes, but don抰 those come from your recipes??
His glare hardens, so venomous I have to clear my throat to keep breathing.
揂ll I抦 saying is, you don抰 have to scapegoat. Why take it out on the person grinding away to sell your product while he deals with rude customers and scalding hot liquid all day??
Grumpfather is so not impressed with my feedback.
His eyes never flinch.
The fact that the man could win a staring contest with an owl hints that I should probably shut up and go.
Guess there抯 just no reasoning with some people.
Too bad I抦 not done.
揂lso, I kinda doubt you抎 know a good cup of coffee if the beans pelted you in the face.?I fold my arms, stretching on my toes to reach closer to his eye level.
揧ou already nailed it. Everything that抯 wrong,?he says slowly.
揑梬hat? I抦 not sure what you抮e棓
But the way his face lights up cuts me off mid-sentence.
When the Grumpfather smirks, he looks like a god.
搼The coffee抯 fine.?慣here抯 nothing wrong with it.?慒or a big chain.挃 He throws my words back at me with an icy calmness that sends shivers up my back before he continues. 揤ery astute observations for someone with no filter. Sales are slumping with the younger crowd. 慣he coffee抯 fine?won抰 cut it in a few more years. Nobody under thirty wants to be caught dead with a drink from a big chain in Seattle and Portland. They抮e I-G-ing cozy little shops.?
揑-G-ing??I repeat.
The teenager behind him laughs. 揌e means Instagramming, but it抯 stupid, right? No one in their twenties Instagrams much anymore.?
揇ess, enough,?he snaps.
揥ow. I apologize, mister. Looks like I had you all wrong,?I say softly, my blood heating.
He gives me a questioning look.
揑 thought you were just a suit having a bad morning. But you don抰 stop at chewing out Wayne. You just have to yell at a kid because she抯 right, huh? Oh, and by the way, I抦 under thirty and I biked across town just for my big chain featured drip this morning. You抮e welcome.?
He flashes the girl an annoyed look. 揈veryone抯 on Instagram. The metrics don抰 lie. If our sales are ever improving, the product has to lead the way.?
My turn. 揥hile you抮e stuck on improvements, can we talk about your attitude??
His lips part, and he stares at me, speechless.
Burn.
揢sually, my 'attitude' saves me from taking hideous advice from strangers who feel a burning need to interject themselves into private business.?He scoffs. 揓ust this once, though, I抣l give you a chance to enlighten me. Where does everyone hang out online??
揟ikTok,?the girl桪ess梐nd I say at the same time.
Grumpfather glares at me.
In one second, he抯 gone from angry demigod to warrior. He turns his head and glances at Wayne before looking back at me.
揟he clock app? Why am I not surprised you share a fifteen-year-old抯 taste in social media??He shakes his head.
I roll my eyes right out of my head.
揝omeone has to. Just like somebody needs to give you an attitude check. It sounds like everybody else lets you go stomping, snarling at problems. And I haven抰 heard a single solution since you started your spiel.?
Uh-oh.
He stares Wayne down again, his nostrils flaring. 揑 hope she抯 not an employee, and if she isn抰梬hy is she here? This store was supposed to be closed for our meeting.?
Wayne turns beet-red and hangs his head.
揑, uh...may have forgotten to lock up again when I came in this morning. I meant to, of course, but once the doors are open, habit kicked in.?He scratches the back of his neck loudly. 揑f it helps, Eliza抯 a friend. One of our best customers. I didn抰 think it would hurt for her to have her coffee here. Uh, don抰 fire me??Wayne throws a nervous look around the room, tugging at the end of his gnarled beard.
Grump-zilla looks me over like he抯 examining some squished animal his limo just ran over. 揌mph. Your 'friend' might be right about the attitude adjustment needed at our stores.?
Wait, what?
I didn抰 say the stores needed an attitude adjustment.
I said he did, but now might not be the best time to point that out.
Because Wayne? He looks like a hardboiled egg dyed pink. And ruining his entire week isn抰 what I抦 after. I wanted to help him梟ot get him fired.
摋there needs to be more respect for the rules, for starters,?the Grumpfather says when my ears ping back on the conversation.
The kid behind us mutters something, but I can抰 make out what.
I almost regret jumping in and hate that it抯 too late to bow out.
I can salvage this, though.
揈xcuse me, but Wayne is a gem. He抯 the reason this store stays open and keeps half the neighborhood coming back. He抯 like a coffee superhero. Don抰 tell me you抮e going to lay the hammer down on your best barista? If you want to boost business, this is the worst way to do it.?
The stuck-up suit presses his lips together. 揑抳e met feral raccoons less frustrating than you.?
I fake a startled gasp, slapping my hand over my mouth. 揙h! Did they bite you, too? Because I have urges.?
He squints in confusion, then lets out a hefty sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. 揧ou抮e annoying as hell.?
揅ool. You抮e Mr. Arrogant.?
He shakes his head slowly. 揑 should give you a lifetime ban from every store.?