I was working in the coffee club, probably I’d been there for a few weeks (I never stayed long both times I worked there. The boss liked me so he rehired me when I came back with my sweet talk… ‘I’ve changed’).
I tore off the scrawled order and handed it to the supervisor (coffee bitch [pardon me]). I went off to deliver a tray of cups and hesitantly returned with my next order. I looked at her expression, which was not lovely, directed at me and not lovingly so. She handed me the docket I’d given her before. What’s this?
‘Expresso‘ I said.
‘What’s that?’ she asked.
‘You know, expresso.’
‘It’s espresso, Alistair.’
Her face sucked itself in like a black hole of sour unfulfillment. ‘How long have you worked here?’ The implication was that I’d worked there long enough to know what an ‘espresso’ was.
I worked there for maybe a month more until the crossed wires became unbearable (and my terrible memory was unbearable to everyone else). The I left, to return perhaps a year or two later, after working in other places with much the same result, perhaps not so bad. Pretty much the same things happened the second time ’round. :)