That’s right. For the sake of fuck. Of all things relating to the sakeness of fuck.
1-14-05 9:30am
Robot Barista sat in the coffee shop in the wee hours of the morning like the little old lady who lived in the shoe. He had so much time, he didn’t know what to do.
In walked chatty regular, chatting about nothing in particular, Beatles this, Beatles that, I-IV-V chord progression, or was it a I-II-V, oh, that Gary Larson was a funny sonofabitch. Robot Barista sat twiddling his robot thumbs listening to chatty regular.
Suddenly, as if it were planned, the phone rang and in walked 4 customers. Robot Barista answered and terminated phone call, started customer 1’s drinkie. Phone rings again. Phone is answered, caller put on hold.
Customer #2: Multi drink order with several requests for additions like flavors, decaf this, skim this, blah blah that. Done.
Customer #3: Bitchy Mom. Bitchy Mom was illegally parked with her permit only-wielding son behind the wheel, and notes po-leese car pulling up behind her vehicle. Bitchy Mom scolds Robot Barista, saying had she known she’d be standing here for 20 minutes (looking at customer #2), she would have kept going. Bitchy Mom orders espresso, then says NO, I wanted a triple! Robot Barista complies and kills her with his eyes.
Chatty Regular continues to talk.
Customer #4: Plain coffee. Aaah! Easy one! Transaction complete in seconds flat.
Customer #5: Triple espresso. Robot Barista hands Customer #5 cup with great pride and feeling of accomplishment, only to see her remove cup lid and say “oooh, this is espresso? Can you put water in it or something? It’s sooo strong!” Hm. Espresso. Strong. Didn’t see that one coming, did she? Robot Barista grabs cup, fills empty space with water, Customer #5 walks away happy.
Chatty Regular left at some point after losing patience with lack of Robot Barista’s attention span.
Robot Barista tiptoes to basement like a Secret Asian Man to relax, regroup, and have some “fresh air”. Robot Barista consumes too much fresh air in too little time, becomes slightly dizzy. Hears BEEP which tells him yet another human is violating the premises.
Upon walking upstairs, Robot Barista spots serious looking human holding official looking clipboard and briefcase. Not good. Official looking human introduces himself as Wang Chung, Inspector 111 from MN Dept. of Commerce (name and number changed ever so slightly to protect his anonymity. Why should that be a concern? Don’t know.) Robot Barista experiences extreme difficulty processing Wang Chung’s communications, but understands this: Wang is a weights and measurements inspector and has discovered, that sadly, coffee shop’s bean weighing scale is not qualified as a “legally approved” scale.
Wang threatens to shut store down, but first returns to his giant illegally parked state vehicle (note absence of po-leese car that was there minutes ago busting Bitchy Mom’s ass.) He returns minutes later with several forms for Robot Barista to read and embellish. Wang leaves, but orders that scale is replaced, or he could shut store down “like this” *snapping fingers*
Robot Barista was tired and suffering from severe internal malfunction. He retired to the basement for absorption of more “fresh air”, only at first breath to hear entryway door beep again.
Robot Barista scanned entire basement surface area to find sharp object with which to penetrate his cranium and inflict a permanent, yet relieving end to his existence, but a 4′ segment of garden hose was all he could find. He returned to the main level of the premises, looked at the clock, took a deep breath, and carried on in a comatose state of mind.
One hour to go.
