Yes! In all his bald glory! And it was crowded last night too, but there he sat, all twitchy and introspective--and BEARDLESS! Yes, he shaved it off, ladies and gents! It was not a compliment to his face, I must say. The beard gave his jaw a definition which didn't actually exist, I discovered, after the beard was gone. And also without the beard, he looks about 21 years old. Much less Bullish.
Meanwhile, I have new people to introduce you to.
"Baby Boy" He worked at the cafe before I was rehired, and had just quit when I appeared. But, like myself, he was still on the books and agreed to plug in some holes in the schedule. The way A.D.Annie bombards you with words, Baby Boy had no choice but to come back. I call him "Baby Boy" because he shares the name of the guest artist in Beyonce's song of the same name. But he looks like Eminem and acts like Marky Mark when he was back with the Funky Bunch. He's okay.
From the customer side of the counter;
"Hollow Leg" This woman starts out with a large coffee, black. She might be 95 pounds. Within two hours, she has come to us for her third refill. That equals 60 ounces of coffee in two hours. Every. Night. I can't believe I hadn't mentioned her first. I have no idea why she STILL looks so tired.
"The Multicolor Madwomen's Brigade" I hadn't noticed that these women were part of one set because they intermittently attend the cafe throughout the week, but last night they were in full session at the same table, clucking away. Their faces pale as ditto paper. Their lips are bright red slashes, like wounds. Their clothing is like Stevie Nicks as designed by Richard Simmons. Once, the chief instigator wore yellow and orange the color of Sherbet. Their median age is roughly 68 yrs. old. And I almost made one of them wear her free water away from the counter last night. I mean, if there's a long line, and you already have ALL OF YOUR ORDER, and there's only TWO WORKERS helping everyone else (me and Baby Boy on register while New Kid and Undercover Emo are on one their endless breaks), and if I squeeze in a second to give you a FREE cup of ice water while filling two other orders, and you dare ask me to remove some of the ice cubes, and I find another nanosecond to do that, you don't yell at me to remove ALL THE ICE CUBES when you clearly did NOT say ALL of the ice cubes. I swear, I almost lost my job last night. No one knows how close I came to dumping the water on her head. Then when we handled the crowd successfully (Baby Boy and me, brothers in arms!) and I looked back at gouts of water I splashed on the counter in the vicinity she had been standing, I guess I came pretty pert near close to it when I handled her back the ice-less ICE WATER she asked for. Because at that point I stopped looking at her or trying to please her. I had just snatched the cup out of her hand, dashed the ice water and cubes into the sink, refilled it with iceless water, handed it back to her without eye-contact or a thanks, and then willed her into the cornfield with all my other enemies as I went flying back to the espresso machine. That mad old hag.
And here's a new category of cast members--Employee's Loved Ones featuring;
"Won't Go Away Girl Jr." This is the daughter of an employee who apprently has no child care, but doesn't believe the daughter, who is now nearly sixteen, can take care of herself at home alone. So this girl loiters in every department, trying to be relevent and liked, past closing, while we all try to clean our departments and get. the. hell. out of the store before midnight. Won't Go Away Girl Jr. has a mad crush on Baby Boy, and so I was treated to her presence in my cafe for two nights in a row now. Thank God Baby Boy doesn't work full time in the cafe. The only consolation I had two nights ago was that Jr. plopped herself down at the original Won't Go Away Girl's table and loitered for two hours. The karma was a flowin', let me tell you. I though the Sr. was going to gnaw her own arm off at the socket to get Jr. to go away. Talk about your immovable object and your irresistable force. I'm suprised the store didn't implode.
Only Carmine Macchiato could have saved the night, but neither he nor his Lady was in attendance. I suppose they were home, making little Macchiatos. Woof! I bet that Carmine is one hunkalicious freight train of chugging love! Now that The Bull is shaved, Carmine's back on the throne. And too, Carmine doesn't wear flip-flops.