Kristina Springer: The Espressologist

"Yeah, go ahead." I wait until she's gone and then pull out my notebook. Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. Hmm. She's a little more difficult. Sarah is more of a seasonal girl. That is, she changes her drink with each season or holiday. I flip through the pages and finally settle on pumpkin spice latte, her current drink of choice.

"Ah, there we are," I mumble out loud.

Small Pumpkin Spice Latte

Lots of fun and a bit sassy. Up-to-date with all the latest trends and has a bit of an exotic flair. Wants to have a good time and not be tied down for long. Cute and playful. Likes a good thing but not too much of a good thing. Not the commitment type. She's the kind of friend who is a lot of fun to hang out with and doesn't make you feel like you owe her anything ...

"You've GOT to be kidding me," Derek says as he steps around the corner, staring directly at my notebook.

Ah, crap. Man, I'm just batting a thousand today with him.

"What do you think you are doing?" he asks, just as two older women with Tammy Faye Bakker makeup jobs walk in and head straight for the counter. "Sarah? Sarah?"

he calls out. I stuff my notebook back under the counter.

"She's in the bathroom," I say.

Sarah comes walking quickly toward us, smoothing down her apron. "Sorry about that." She gives us one of those "you know how it is when you have to go" smiles.

"Sarah, cover Jane. Jane, let's go back in my office and talk."

Ugh. This is so not cool. I give Sarah an "it's no big deal" look and follow Derek to his office. I have to think quickly before we get there. I know he is going to yell at me about my notebook, so I need a logical reason for having it up at the counter.

Derek stomps into his office, points to a seat to indicate that I should sit down, and shuts the door behind me. "What's up?" I ask, playing stupid.

He sighs, sitting heavily into his chair opposite me.

"Jane, you understand that you're the assistant manager now, right?"

"Yeah, of course." Duh, Derek, I was totally here last week when you gave me the job.

"Well, then, that means you have to start acting like one. You need to be setting an example for the other employees. You need to be backing me up whenever I need you to do something. First you screw up the inventory, and then I catch you doing your homework while you are working. You've had the job for what, four days now? Maybe I made a mistake in promoting you.

Maybe it is too much for you to handle ..."

"No!" I protest loudly, interrupting his tirade. "I'm totally perfect for this job. And I wasn't doing my homework." Please, I've been back at school for all of eight hours. I haven't reached the point of doing homework yet.

"You weren't?" His eyebrows shoot up and he tightens his lips.

"No. I was working. I was ..." Hmm ... what was I doing? "I was coming up with new specialty drinks. I thought maybe we could do an Assistant Manager's Specialty Drink of the Week' and feature what I come up with. I was being inventive. Creative. I was being a go-getter. I was 'thinking outside the box.' " Ooh ... that's a good one.

"Hmm." He seems to consider this. Believe me, believe me, believe me, I beam at him with my eyes. "Well, that's not a bad idea," he says. I relax into my seat. "But it would have to be a 'Manager's Specialty Drink of the Week.' " He straightens up and gets a little attitude in his voice. "I mean, I think people would want to know what the manager suggests since I AM the highest-ranking person here." I nod. "Of course."

"And it might raise sales," Derek says. He glances off to the side of his desk where his computer monitor sits and runs his index finger horizontally across his chin. Yeah, I'm sure he's thinking more sales than Todd Stone. "Your idea isn't half bad."

"Thank you!" I beam. Wow, three pats on the back for me for flipping this situation around so quickly. "So, what did you come up with?" he asks. Oh, crap.

"Well..." I stall for time. "I don't have my notebook with me, but..."

"Yes?" he prods.

"What about a soy raspberry mocha with a swirl of caramel?" I suggest, crossing my fingers behind my chair.

"That's gross," he says flatly. Ah, well, they can't all be winners.

"I'm still working on it," I tell him. "Give me some time."

"You lost me at caramel. But it wasn't a bad try. How about this? Come up with a month's worth of specialty drinks and get back to me with them. Your idea is okay."

He gives me an approving nod. Derek actually looks almost happy.

"Thanks, Derek!" I say, and head out of his office.

"Did he demote you?" Sarah asks when I join her in the front.

"Not at all," I respond. "We were just talking about some ways to increase profits."

"Wow," Sarah says, looking impressed.

"Yeah, there really is a lot that comes with being assistant manager," I say in my hoity-toity voice.

"Sounds like it," she replies as she straightens up the straws and picks up wrappers off the counter. "By the way, your friends were just in here."

"Which friends?" I ask.

"Two girls," Sarah answers. "Both thin and blond, but the taller one was really beautiful. I couldn't really tell if she was being sincere or snarky, though. They ordered small nonfat lattes."

"Ugh ... say no more!" I immediately know whom she is talking about. "They aren't my friends. Not even close.

I'm glad I missed them."

"Really?" Sarah questions. "They asked about you."

"What did they say?" I'm not sure I really want to know.

"Well, the taller one specifically said, 'What? My friend Jane isn't here today? Oh shoot, she makes the BEST drinks.' "

"Yeah," I conclude, "she was being snarky."

"Who were they?"

"Just some stupid girls from school last year. They were seniors when I was a junior and not exactly nice to me."

"Oh, how lame are they? I guess they haven't matured at all since high school."

"Nope," I declare, starting to make two small vanilla crème frappycaps a couple of preteens just ordered.

"So, what kind of mood is Derek in now?" Sarah asks.

"Almost decent," I tell her. "I would talk to him now if you need anything."

"I actually do," she says. "I'm hoping he'll let me have the day after Thanksgiving off. I want to hit the Black Friday sales."

"Sounds like fun! But that is one of our busiest days.

Everybody wants coffee while they shop. He might not go for it. I would definitely ask him now before he gets on his next tirade." I am so jealous. I'd love to go to the Black Friday sales, but I know for sure he'll have me work that day.

"Okay, be right back," she says, and heads toward Derek's office.

The front door swings open and five police officers walk in. They aren't in the standard-issue police uniform, though. They are wearing faded blue jeans, dark sweatshirts, and black bulletproof jackets with the word POLICE embroidered across the back in white capital letters. I recognize Officer Jake right away. He's been in here a couple of times before and he is definitely hard to miss. In his early twenties, and built like a baseball player, Officer Jake is tall, Italian, and gorgeous. The muscles busting out of his forearms are incredible. You just want to touch them. The other guys with him are decent-looking enough, though maybe a bit older. Officer Jake is definitely the cutie of the group. And single.

"Hey, how's it going?" he bellows out as he approaches the counter, confidence radiating from him.

This guy is definitely comfortable in his own skin.

"Great. What can I get you all?" They each give me their order, but I concentrate on Officer Jake's–a large extra-bold Sumatra with room for cream. Hmm ... confident, daring, fun, and, well, incredibly hot. He's perfect for Sarah.' Now how to get them together?

I make all the officers their drinks and call them out.