Coffee Shop

“Are you kidding me?” she said, money in her hand, eyeing the girl working the cash register at Starbucks.

            “I’m sorry, but…”

            “Unbelievable,” she continued, berating the cashier. “So what is the reason this time? Price of gas? How did a bean become more expensive all of a sudden?”

            An uncomfortable silence filled the air between them. All around, the normal buzz of the morning ritual provided a contrasting backdrop to the tension at the register.

            “We changed our prices a couple of days ago,” the cashier offered. “It’s on the board.”

            “I always pay $4.23 for my coffee. Always!” she emphasized by slamming her money on the counter.  “As a matter of fact,” she added, tilting her head to the side, “That’s what I paid two days ago. So, you’re telling me the price has gone up in two days?”

            The cashier looked incredulously at the customer and the growing line behind her. She was tempted to just let the situation go and avoid the turmoil it was causing. Her five-cent customer would not let that happen however.

            “Oh, to hell with it!” the customer said. “Here’s your damn five cents.”

            She dug into her coin purse and threw the nickel across the counter, much to the shock of most of the other customers trying to enjoy their morning caffeine jolt.

            “And you just tell the fat cats in Seattle,” she added, grabbing her cup, but not able to just walk out, “that I hope they choke on that nickel.”

            By this point, most of the coffee shop had stopped to watch the drama unfold. The customer threw one more haughty look at the cashier and stormed her way out the front door to the parking lot.

            “What a bitch,” an anonymous voice announced from the line that had grown during the exchange. That opinion was met by a round of low chuckles.

            “Who’s next?” the cashier asked, trying to return the crowd to their daily routine and regain her composure. As she heard the next customer order their grande, non-fat, upside down, concoction, squealing tires followed by a crash sounded from outside.

            A couple of customers rose from their seats to look out into the parking lot. From her vantage point, the cashier could not make out what happened.

            Another employee walked back behind the counter from the front door, where she had been picking up trash.

            “You’re gonna love this,” she told the cashier as she went to the back with her bag.

            A loud buzz had started to fill the coffee shop again. Phrases such as “oh my god” and “nice,” could be overheard.

            A woman, with a considerable coffee stain on her white buttoned down blouse, walked back in the door and headed straight for the kiosk with the napkins. The room held its silence, though the eyes of the customers spoke volumes. Quietly, with her nose in the air, the woman grabbed a handful of napkins and proceeded to try and save her blouse as she pushed her way out the door back to her car. Her blue SUV was resting against a parking post, which she had backed into, in her desire to leave in a flourish.

            “No, karma’s a bitch,” the cashier said as she turned to fill the next order.