By the Letter
Death metal? Color me shocked. For someone who claims they don’t like music, that’s the last genre I would’ve imagined for you. You scare me. I never imagined working as a barista would make a person so hardy.
No, my book wasn’t of the “For Dummies” variety; it actually took itself a bit too seriously and reading it made me feel depressed. It went too much into the psychology of a toxic work environment, of red flags to look for, and it basically seemed to imply that it all depends on your mindset and whether you’re strong enough to withstand certain jobs. I’m not in the economic position to simply up and quit, and it isn’t that bad of a job, as secretaries/assistants/peons go.
I quite enjoy running errands. It keeps me on my toes, and getting paid for fetching coffee? It’s the dream (he says, to a former barista. I suppose it’s easier when you don’t have to prepare the drinks themselves, though I will say I’ve developed a knack for balancing over four coffees in my lap while driving.)
I’m happy you’re happy at home, your father sounds ideal; I don’t want to say I miss you, I think we’re too early in whatever this is to say something as bold as that but, well…I kind of miss you. I missed a big chance in not having spoken to you beforehand. They always say to let employees work, and a smile and a wishful “Good day” are mere niceties and not to be taken as an invitation to ask them out. I guess you’ve already guess I had a crush on you (or else why would I even ask you to write to me), and this is gettign difficult for me to write so I may just keep this letter to myself and rewrite another one where I don’t lay my heart on the page and admit like a teenager that you are a nice person I would like to get to know more of, especially in person.
We’ll always have letters, am I right?
I’m just going to end this here, very awkwardly and very shyly,
P.S. Is there also a bug going around in Australia? Over here almost everyone I know has come down with something or other; I’m hoping it’s not too serious.
thank you for not asking about my not-so-subtle comment on living only with my father. my mom…is a touchy subject, maybe for a future letter so stay tuned for that i guess. it’s easy to write to you but there are moments when i’m hit with the realization that you’re a fully developed person, with wants and flaws and terrible taste in coffee, that i become self-conscious and forget to write something with actual depth in favor of self-depricating humor.
have you ever considered that your work isn’t important?
and i don’t mean to sound insulting, this is just a way i’ve coped with my own job. after suffering mindlessly for a few months, i one day thought to myself: you know what? your work isn’t important. and rather than feeling angry, dismayed, depressed or anything, i felt oh so empowered, you know? like, fuck it, a customer is just another customer getting their daily fill of caffeine, fuck them. so my attitude completely changed when i realized i wasn’t doing anything for the world, in a good way. drinks and pastries are going to be shat out one way or another, so why bother letting it weigh down on my mind?
i have no doubt that a secretary/assistant/peon is an important position; if no ones takes care of the little things, can the big things really be accomplished? but maybe look at it from this perspective; what you do doesn’t matter, not on a galactic level at least, so don’t worry if you get the wrong coffee order, if the papers get a bit wet, if you’re late two minutes. your bosses get to break their heads open over that, not you.
you? having a crush on me? i never would’ve imagined so.
only a crazy person asks a barista to write letters to them after asking them how their day was. i still can’t believe i’ve been going along with this and writing back and forth. i almost can’t remember what you look like. you know, that whole my-work-isn’t-important thing lends itself to not paying attention to what customers look like. i think i saw you for the first time when you made small talk that one day.
it never occurred to me to feel flattered until now, so thank you. i can’t say for sure if i miss you or not, i wouldn’t say i desperately miss taking orders.
there i go again, making jokes. i will say i have a new found affection for the post, my heart does a little skip whenever i find your letters on the table. so perhaps i do like and appreciate you as well.
p.s. well now you’re scaring me. i forgot for a second there we live in different countries but yes, there’s also something going on over here. a few cousins of mine came down with something and it seems to be spreading.
Mika is a Mexican writer and translator, pretender, pet-lover, and a mess at 1 in the morning.