Hi, I'm Cynthia, Your Grumpy Barista at Vic's.

Hi, I'm Cynthia.  Yes, Cynthia, the coffee barista you see every time you drive through the Vic's Coffee drive-thru lane in South Boulder.  The one who gives you a frown whenever she sees you.


I start work every morning at 4:30am.  I come in at the same time as Rick,  the boss.  He has me do all the menial stuff like turn on the lights, sweep the floors, wipe off the tables, prep the coffee machines.   All while he fiddles with the cash register.  I get no help from him whatsoever.  I mean how many times can you rearrange money?


If that's not enough, after working the busy early morning rush hour from 7 to 9 at the front, he puts me at the window right after to relieve Sara to deal with the mid-morning drive-thru rush.  I mean, I'm not the only barista working here, right?


I'm gritting my teeth because I'm trying to keep my queasiness at bay which is why my mouth is set into this permanent frown.  You see, I'm ten weeks pregnant, and this morning sickness has been getting the best of me.


I'm not really trying to be rude. I'm  just an emotional basketcase.  I start off happy but then about three minutes later,  I want to scream, then cry, then scream again, then throw the huge coffee machine that is on the table next to me against the wall.  My boyfriend hasn't called me back since I told him about the baby four weeks ago.  This was supposed to be the guy who "loved" me.   What a jerk.  Sigh.  I didn't ask for this.


I'd curse at you right now for being so slow to hand me your money but then I get fired and I really need this job.


I barely reach out of the window to hand you your coffee.  Only because reaching out makes me want to  retch in the moment, and I can't have vomit all over the customers can I?  Rick would get on my case, and then wonder what was up with me.  I haven't told him yet that I'm pregnant.  I'm not looking forward to his response.  So you'll just have to basically lean all the way out your window to get your coffee.  Sorry.


My feet are killing me.  I'm so tired that I can barely stand.  It's why you find me sitting on a stool when you drive up to the window.  And why I grimace when I have to get up and serve you your coffee.   I try to smile but I can't.   But at least, I'm fast in getting you your white mocha.  So if nothing else, you get your coffee in under a minute.


Anyway, nice to see you again.  I mean it, even though I'm still frowning.  I'm trying not to throw up the blueberry muffin I ate ten minutes ago.   Can you drive away a little faster?  I only have a few seconds to sit down before someone else decides to drive up.


Thanks, and have a good day.  I can't wait until mine is over.


This is a somewhat piece of fiction inspired by the writing prompt  from the Red Dress Club where the assignment asks you to think of someone - it could be a fictional character, a public figure, someone you know - who gets under your skin, and write a piece from his or her perspective.




Concrit welcomed.