Most of the time, working at 'Brewtiful' isn't too bad. I was employed by Jerry around five years ago, when I was only sixteen. It was my first ever job and for four of those years, I actually looked forward to coming into work.
Most of my friends went away to university a few years back, but I just never really knew what I wanted to do.
I liked making coffees and basically singing to myself whilst serving customers but I did feel like I should have probably already found my 'passion' in life by now.
It was only this last year at Brewtiful where I've seriously started thinking about my life plan. I couldn't just make flat whites for the rest of my life whilst on minimum wage and earning next to no tips.
However if i was honest with myself, its not even the urge to have a better job or go to university that's making my shifts at Brewtiful less and less enjoyable. The biggest factor that has inspired my urge to leave Brewtiful is the newest staff member Benjamin Lovat.
It was funny actually, that before Benjamin started his first shift, around three months ago, I was excited when Jerry had told me he had hired a 'nice young gent, around my age that was not too bad on the eyes either.'
Jerry hadn't told me his name or what he looked like, but based on customers i often blushed when serving, I thought Jerry knew my type.
The day Benjamin and I had our first scheduled shift together, I went out of my way to use my new glittery eyeshadow and far too expensive lip gloss. I even used my Gucci perfume. Ha, what a waste.
Most of my other colleagues were middle aged women so being told an attractive guy, my age was going to be right next to me for hours and hours made my heart skip a beat.
To be fair, my heart did skip a beat when I walked in on that awful day.
Jerry was standing behind the counter and was serving a customer. Next to him was the 'new guy' . He was frothing some milk so I only saw his back at first. He was tall, so much so that he made Jerry look tiny, with broad shoulders on a black shirt that looked a little too snug as I could make out every single muscle across his back.
New guy had dark hair, almost black that had a little bit of a wave to it. Ding Ding Ding, Jerry was not wrong. Even from just seeing his back, I could tell he was going to be attractive. That was, until he turned around.
There he was. In all his awful glory. Benjamin Lovat dashed a ridiculously bright, white smile and slid across the coffee he had just made to the woman waiting in line.
I stood still in my spot, still unsure if I had just imagined this entire scene. But sadly my eyes were not deceiving me.
The woman who had just been handed her coffee by Satan himself, smiled brightly in return and handed him what looked like a tenner tip. What the mother loving fuck? The most I'd ever been tipped was £2 and that was because I gave said customer a free cookie.
But for Benjamin, he steps foot in Brewtiful once, and an hour later he's got a £10 tip. Karma really doesn't exist. Because if it did. My high school bully wouldn't have been standing right in front of me.