Page 1 of Sidelined Love

1

HAILEY

If I could, I would pay someone to drag me out back and put me out of my misery by any means necessary.

But luck isn’t on my side.

Instead, I’m forced to do what I consider to be a soul-sucking job. Well, it's not the job, it's my boss.

“Large Americano!” I call out, but nothing changes.

My fingers tighten around the steaming paper cup as the heat from it begins to seep into my skin. I’m staring for a moment at the woman who ordered the drink, but, of course, she’s not paying attention. It’s taking everything in me not to snap. I have to maintain a positive customer experience for the patrons of Brewed Beginnings.

In order to calm the urge to scream, I take a moment to center myself and then I say it once more. “Large Americano!”

The woman's eyes meet mine. I gesture to the drink before sliding the cup across the counter without looking back at it, knowing it won’t fall off the counter from having done this a million times before.

How hard is it to pay attention so that you know when your order is called?

It takes everything in me to not rub my hand across my face. I hate this part of the job. I am forced to push my shoulders back and paste on a smile as I play the cheerful barista, while customers treat me like I am a piece of furniture. But my bills don’t pay themselves, and my tuition doesn’t vanish into thin air, never to be heard from again. So here I am, at Brewed Beginnings, pouring coffee and trying to keep my shitty thoughts to myself.

“Anything else?” I ask, making myself sound more cheerful than I feel as I hand over the drink.

The woman, scrolling through her phone, mumbles something about extra napkins, and once I give them to her, she hurries off without a thank you.

That doesn’t surprise me. If I had a penny for every time someone didn’t acknowledge the act of service I’d just given them, I’d be a millionaire. It doesn’t make it less annoying, however.

I take a deep breath, counting to three in my head. Patience, Hailey. You need to have patience.

But who am I kidding? This is just another day of me slinging overpriced caffeine to sleep-deprived students. One of the few silver linings about this gig is the free drinks I can consume while I’m here. To be honest, it’s the only thing keeping me from quitting.

I scan the room as students and professors shuffle in. Some are bleary-eyed and yawning because of the early hour. The constant hum of conversation fills the café, broken only by the occasional laugh or loud sip. Everyone here looks as exhausted as I feel. Welcome to life as a college student.

As the morning rush at Brewed Beginnings continues, I slip into a rhythm that’s equal parts robotic and resentful. Is it normal to be irritated this early in the morning? No, but I am, even though I do my best to hide everything behind apleasant mask. Each “Thank you” and “Have a nice day” I offer is as automated as the espresso machine hissing beside me. Thankfully, both of us are working well today.

“Skinny vanilla latte!” My voice cuts through the hum of conversations that surround me, but it’s met with the same vacant stares and slow reactions. “Skinny vanilla latte is ready!”

When I get the same reaction, I’m tempted to snap. How hard is it to listen for your order? Is it time for us to ask for people’s names with their order?

A guy in a black Crestwood University jacket finally looks up. I notice the earbuds in his ears and the surprised expression on his face. He reaches for his headphones, unplugging himself from the music-infused bubble he’d placed himself in. With a quick nod and a mumbled, “Thanks,” he rushes out of the coffee shop. At least he said thank you.

A woman approaches the counter, and I turn my gaze toward her. I offer her a very fake smile. “How can I help you?”

“A large mocha,” she says. I nod and write the order on the cup. A strand of my wavy brown hair falls out of my messy bun. I brush it aside with a huff.

“Next!” I call out as I wrap up another order. I’m more than ready to take the next customer.

A student strolls up to the counter and carefully examines the menu for a long time. Then she looks up at me and speaks. “Caramel macchiato, please,” she whispers, and her voice is so low that I question whether I heard her.

“Size?” I ask, already reaching for a cup. She answers, and I write her order on the cup before handing it off to my coworker, Ben, who is standing at the espresso machine. I keep taking orders and making drinks because the line looks as if it is never going to end. While doing this, I think about what I'll need to do in my classes today. It’s an endless cycle that plays on a loop inmy mind as I try to talk myself into embracing what has already started off as a busy day.

The line dwindles, giving me a moment of relaxation. I lean against the counter, taking a second to scan the café. Students are leaning over their laptops, homework and other papers tossed on tables, and the occasional burst of laughter fills the air. It all feels familiar and captures college life at Crestwood University.

The school is in the heart of Crestwood, Virginia, and is home to the Crestwood Red Wolves. Although the university was built after the town was founded, you'd think it was the other way around. The campus itself is stunning with its manicured grounds and picturesque buildings. While most of the things we could ever need can be found somewhere in the vicinity, our college administration encourages us to go into town and patronize local businesses.

Speaking of businesses, things are slowing down at Brewed Beginnings, and I sigh before I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s time for my break, but first, I should find Marc, my manager.

I scan the area for him, but I grow irritated when I don’t spot him. Despite my dislike for him, he is someone I must deal with while working here. And right now, he is standing between me and another cup of coffee.

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