Welcome to Starbucks. Let me take your order.

[LevinLetLive]

This is a Starbucks. I know, it might not be your first choice for coffee, but maybe you got a gift card for Christmas or you just like being associated with the brand. I'm not married to it; I'm just the cashier. Heck! I don't even drink coffee, but I won't take hot chocolate from anywhere else. You don't know that just walking in, but I don't exactly keep it a secret either.

We've got a few regulars in here. There's a guy who's always glued to his Macbook in one corner, and a girl who always comes in around 1:00 p.m. and gets on video chat with her friends. We've got a handful of nurses who go to a nearby medical school that I see almost every morning, and I've got their names memorized, plus two or three neighborhood joggers. You're a new face though. Did you just move here, or are you just coming in for the first time in a while? Makes no difference to me, really. My wage doesn't go up or down no matter how many people visit.

Technically, this is even a slow location. We get the benefit of making small talk and getting to know our customers without always being in a huge rush. All I care about is the conversation and whether or not you leave me a mess to clean. Trust me, if you do, I notice. I won't do anything to you, but I'm definitely going to remember it.

Anyway, I'm a strange looking fellow even for a Starbucks cashier. I'm barely over five feet, I've got long, dark hair that's tied back in the dreaded "man-bun", my eyebrows haven't been done since I moved out of my mom's house, and my apron is just covered in heavy enamel pins with all manner of things on them. They clink when I move like some kind of nerd armor. There's Pusheen, mermaids, flowers, bugs, references to games and TV shows, baked goods, and a bunch of other miscellany. It's obvious that I couldn't pick, or else I'm doing it on a dare.

Anyway, you come in and there's no line! Isn't that excellent? I'm leaning on the counter when you walk in, but I stand up when I see you.

"Welcome in." I greet you with a polite smile. "What can I get you?"

[noric]

Starbucks.

Last resort coffee.

Alas, today was last resort.

The coffee machine at the clinic took a nosedive with an exuberant husky in the a.m., and a late term pyo's due in five minutes. Surgery'll prolly go 'til 8pm. I pulled the lucky straw in getting the caffienation. Nearby caffienation. I get to discharge the dentals in twenty.

I don't really notice the cashier. People aren't my thing. But I notice Pusheen. That gets a smirk and that gets the wearer notice. The cashier is now 'pin guy that's about my height'.

My smile vanishes as I review the menu and its endless expanse of options. What _is_ all this shit? "One sec," I mumble, pulling up my phone, "I have a list."

It takes me too long to get to the text with the clinic orders. I look as out of sorts as I sound- turquoise scrubs- top and bottom- splashed with something that whiffs sterile- blonde french plaites woven behind each ear, frazzled loose from a day of dog wrastling. Also pet fur. Lots of pet fur. A lint roller between clients can only do so much.

Finally, I mumble out some names I've never heard of in sizes that sound like candy.

"And, uh, a medium iced chai latte, please." Why do cashiers always make me feel like a shy six year old schoolgirl. I'm the damned client.