Saturday, October 1, 2011

Tales From the Coffee Shop

So, keeping current with the whole writing thing.
I worked at this little coffee shop in downtown Toronto over the summer. It was open to the street, no AC and we baked stuff as well.
The coffee tasted like battery acid (purportedly, I never drank it myself) and some of the pastries we had in the display could have been used to induce blunt force trauma.

In short, we did next to no business. I still got paid, and I loafed around the back room a lot with my laptop. It was a pretty reasonable gig except for the weather.

The boss was an alcoholic and I'm pretty sure he spent most of the time high.

At least three of the other employees smoked (god I can't stand the smell of cigarette smoke.)

The "customers" we'd get? I'm pretty sure most of them weren't up to any good. Like we had these two guys come in one day. Only reason I remember it was because the girl serving people came an bugged me about it. Anyways two guys, both wearing long coats like they're extras just walked in out of a scene from the Matrix.

The one guy, much older, has grey in his hair, looks like he's some sort of addict, eyes are a little screwy, malnourished, looks older than he probably is, hood pulled up over his head. The younger guy, brown hair, blue coat, looks twitchy and nervous as all hell. I'm pretty sure he's on drugs. Keeps fiddling with something in his pocket.
They talk in the shop a while, the older fellow keep looking around and soon he's pretty nervous too. The older one actually orders coffee and drinks some of it. Which is the shocking part. This was abominably bad, horrible coffee by all accounts. super-humanly bad coffee. The younger guy bolts out of the coffee shop after they talk for a while.

That was actually a fairly horrible day. Between the rain, those two guys in the shop and then the subway? Absolutely rubbish. So here's the story there. Bloor-Danforth subway line, blocked by body. SRS BSNS.
HOW DO I WAIT FOR TRAIN?
Obviously it is not on the tracks. THANKS FOR THAT DUMBASS.
I was three hours late getting home and STARVING. (It wasn't pretty)

The worst part was of course that half the food had gone by that point.

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