From Karen to Kaya: The Ring of Change Saga
Prologue
“It’s a little warm in here, don’t you think?” asked the customer. Around 40, with bleach blonde bangs and thick rimmed sunglasses, she smacked her lips impatiently as she awaited my reply. I just tried to focus on finishing up the order of iced mochas I was working on. Skim milk, half sugar, two…
“Ahem, I asked you a question,” she said, raising her voice. “Don’t you think you ought to turn up the AC in here?”
“We’re trying to reduce our carbon…” I began.
“Oh, don’t give me that green energy BS! I’m expected to cook like a flippin’ Thanksgiving turkey, all to keep the polar bears happy!?” she shouted, her face looking it had been Botox-frozen into a permanent expression of surprise and sneering outrage.
“I demand to speak with a manager!” she announced, placing her hands on her narrow hips.
I let out a long sigh as I finally put the lids on the drinks. “Order for Karen!” I shouted out.
“I’m Karen” she said, walking towards the counter.
“Of course you are,” I muttered under my breath. Her unfashionable brown sweater billowed a little over her toothpick frame as she moved. Her puffy breasts looked unbelievably plastic, relatively small but completely denying gravity on her chest.
“What’s that supposed to…” Karen said, as she angrily pointed. But the with the wild motion, she accidentally knocked over her drink. It spilled onto the counter, the dark liquid dripping down, and the ice clattering noisily near her high heeled shoes.
“Now look what you made me do!” she shrieked, as I grabbed the mini mop and the wet floor sign. “I asked you once and I’ll ask you again. Where is the manager?”
“You’re looking at ‘em,” I replied, as I cleaned up the spill.
“What? But you’re just a kid,” she said, her thin lips puckering into a scowl.
“I’m 26!” I replied exasperatedly.
Karen leaned forward and squinted at me, pausing for a long time.
“What is it now?” I asked.
“I’m trying to read your name tag. Looks like it says ‘Melody.’ But that’s not a real name. It’s a typo, supposed to say ‘Melanie’ or something, right?”
“No, Melody is my real name,” I said.
“Who are your sisters, Chorus and Rhythm?” Karen scoffed, before taking a few suspicious sniffs. “And what’s the smell like in this place? Is that some kind of foreign perfume or something?”
I glanced around, hoping another customer would walk in to at least give me an excuse to stop talking to her. No such luck.
“Look, you cook me alive with this heat in here, you spill my drink, and you won’t even get the real manager. I think I’m entitled to take back my tip from the tip jar.”
“None of that is… wait, you didn’t put anything in the tip jar to begin with,” I realized. God freaking damn it, this woman is annoying.
She reached her hand in anyway. Did she really think she was entitled to steal our tips, too?
But instead of pulling out a wad of bills, she pulled out a little ring. A weird, gawdy thing, with a moon and a pearl.
“Someone might have accidentally dropped that in the tip jar…” I began, taking it out of her hand.
“Yeah, me, it’s mine,” she lied, snatching it back and then putting it on her finger. “I wish your generation knew what hard work was really like,” Karen scoffed.
“My generation!? Okay, boomer. You wish you had it what it takes to work in a place like this!”
And with that, Karen stormed out, hopefully never to be seen again.
Chapter One
“Where are the 11 AM interviews?” I asked Tobey.
“Nobody… uh… showed up to this one,” he said with a shrug.
“What!?” I said. “Yesterday I was the only one here, and I had to deal with a total Karen by myself. We have to hire someone. We just have to.”
“Well, you can’t … um… do that if nobody shows, can you?” he said. Tobey was in college, so I couldn’t increase his hours. And I was already here all day, every day…
Suddenly, the door swung open. To my horror, it was Karen. Her outfit was a little different than yesterday – no brown sweater, and her shoes had gone from high heels to flats – but that was her.
“I’m not late for the interview, am I?” she asked.
“That’s her!” I whispered to Tobey.
“Her who?”
“That Karen from yesterday! She’s really pretending to come in for a job…” I said through gritted teeth.
“Well, you gotta… uh… interview her anyway. I mean, you could get uh… sued if we don’t.” Tobey said. “Pre-law coming in handy!”
“Ugh, fine,” I said, rolling my eyes, and reluctantly making my way to the little table where Karen was standing.
I slouched into the big bean bag chair next to the table. Karen looked at the beanbag chair next to me, frowned a little, then pulled one of the metal chairs from another table over. It made a horrible scraping sound as it was dragged across the tile floor.
“So, what makes you want to work at the Happy Bean?” I said, going through the mandatory interview script with as little enthusiasm as possible.
“Well, someone offered me a challenge, right?” Karen said.
“What!?”
“You said you wish that I had what it takes to work in a place like this, didn’t you?” Karen asked. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
“That’s not what I…” I began. Exactly what had I said yesterday? I didn’t remember it sounding quite like that.
Whatever. It didn’t matter.
A family walked in the shop: a large woman with beat up looking spandex, a tough looking guy with some chains, and two small kids. Tobey was good worker, but he could sometimes be on the slow side. I had to just get this over with if I didn’t want a line to start forming.
“So… what was your previous job?”
“This… would technically be my first actual job,” Karen replied. “But I was president of my homeowner’s association, community manager for my church, and volunteer tennis coach at my country club, if any of those would do.”
“If you can afford to play tennis all day at your country club, why do you need to work at a coffee shop?” I asked, finally giving up the script.
“Because… well… it’s kind of embarrassing, really…” Karen began. The door swung open, and more customers walked in – an impossibly buff lady and a twink guy in a silk shirt. The buff lady had to duck a little to avoid hitting her head on the door frame.
“Why’s it takin’ so bloody long?” said one of the earlier customers, in a thick, low class English accent. God, had Tobey not even finished with them yet!?
“You see, I recently got divorced. So… got to take care of myself now,” said Karen. “That’s why I was a bit on edge yesterday.”
For a brief moment, I actually felt a little bit sorry for her. Of course, it didn’t last.
“So sorry if you felt ‘triggered’ or ‘offended’ by me or anything,” Karen added.
She was sorry… if I felt offended? It was the least sincere apology I’d ever heard.
Another couple walked in the shop, this one a zaftig woman with red hair and thick glasses, along with a geeky guy with even thicker glasses, their shoes squeaking a little as they shuffled forwards.
“So, how much can you offer?” Karen asked.
What a question. This wasn’t a real estate transaction – it was a retail job.
“Store policy is minimum wage plus tips,” I said, hoping that would scare her away. But Karen just shrugged.
“Gotta start somewhere I guess,” she said, grinning at me with those big, almost neon-white teeth.
“Look at how slow they are, JD. Our coffee shop is like, way better,” said another customer in line, a blonde bimbo with her jock boyfriend.
Tobey weakly waived at me. Sweat was already pouring from his brow.
“So, when can I start?” Karen asked.
“I’m sorry, but there’s just no way that…” I began, but just then, the door swung open again. A heavyset, older, couple walked in, wearing what looked like some very fine Italian suits.
“Hope this place has come good biscotti,” grumbled the man. “If not, I’m taking their Yelp page to the fuckin’ cleaners.”
I glanced at the growing line of customers, and back to Tobey. I realized that even if I rushed back to help, we’d still be short staffed.
I really didn’t have a choice.
“Can you start right now?” I asked, knowing I’d almost certainly regret it.
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“It’s a little warm in here, don’t you think?” asked the customer. Around 40, with bleach blonde bangs and thick rimmed sunglasses, she smacked her lips impatiently as she awaited my reply. I just tried to focus on finishing up the order of iced mochas I was working on. Skim milk, half sugar, two…
“Ahem, I asked you a question,” she said, raising her voice. “Don’t you think you ought to turn up the AC in here?”
“We’re trying to reduce our carbon…” I began.
“Oh, don’t give me that green energy BS! I’m expected to cook like a flippin’ Thanksgiving turkey, all to keep the polar bears happy!?” she shouted, her face looking it had been Botox-frozen into a permanent expression of surprise and sneering outrage.
“I demand to speak with a manager!” she announced, placing her hands on her narrow hips.
I let out a long sigh as I finally put the lids on the drinks. “Order for Karen!” I shouted out.
“I’m Karen” she said, walking towards the counter.
“Of course you are,” I muttered under my breath. Her unfashionable brown sweater billowed a little over her toothpick frame as she moved. Her puffy breasts looked unbelievably plastic, relatively small but completely denying gravity on her chest.
“What’s that supposed to…” Karen said, as she angrily pointed. But the with the wild motion, she accidentally knocked over her drink. It spilled onto the counter, the dark liquid dripping down, and the ice clattering noisily near her high heeled shoes.
“Now look what you made me do!” she shrieked, as I grabbed the mini mop and the wet floor sign. “I asked you once and I’ll ask you again. Where is the manager?”
“You’re looking at ‘em,” I replied, as I cleaned up the spill.
“What? But you’re just a kid,” she said, her thin lips puckering into a scowl.
“I’m 26!” I replied exasperatedly.
Karen leaned forward and squinted at me, pausing for a long time.
“What is it now?” I asked.
“I’m trying to read your name tag. Looks like it says ‘Melody.’ But that’s not a real name. It’s a typo, supposed to say ‘Melanie’ or something, right?”
“No, Melody is my real name,” I said.
“Who are your sisters, Chorus and Rhythm?” Karen scoffed, before taking a few suspicious sniffs. “And what’s the smell like in this place? Is that some kind of foreign perfume or something?”
I glanced around, hoping another customer would walk in to at least give me an excuse to stop talking to her. No such luck.
“Look, you cook me alive with this heat in here, you spill my drink, and you won’t even get the real manager. I think I’m entitled to take back my tip from the tip jar.”
“None of that is… wait, you didn’t put anything in the tip jar to begin with,” I realized. God freaking damn it, this woman is annoying.
She reached her hand in anyway. Did she really think she was entitled to steal our tips, too?
But instead of pulling out a wad of bills, she pulled out a little ring. A weird, gawdy thing, with a moon and a pearl.
“Someone might have accidentally dropped that in the tip jar…” I began, taking it out of her hand.
“Yeah, me, it’s mine,” she lied, snatching it back and then putting it on her finger. “I wish your generation knew what hard work was really like,” Karen scoffed.
“My generation!? Okay, boomer. You wish you had it what it takes to work in a place like this!”
And with that, Karen stormed out, hopefully never to be seen again.
Chapter One
“Where are the 11 AM interviews?” I asked Tobey.
“Nobody… uh… showed up to this one,” he said with a shrug.
“What!?” I said. “Yesterday I was the only one here, and I had to deal with a total Karen by myself. We have to hire someone. We just have to.”
“Well, you can’t … um… do that if nobody shows, can you?” he said. Tobey was in college, so I couldn’t increase his hours. And I was already here all day, every day…
Suddenly, the door swung open. To my horror, it was Karen. Her outfit was a little different than yesterday – no brown sweater, and her shoes had gone from high heels to flats – but that was her.
“I’m not late for the interview, am I?” she asked.
“That’s her!” I whispered to Tobey.
“Her who?”
“That Karen from yesterday! She’s really pretending to come in for a job…” I said through gritted teeth.
“Well, you gotta… uh… interview her anyway. I mean, you could get uh… sued if we don’t.” Tobey said. “Pre-law coming in handy!”
“Ugh, fine,” I said, rolling my eyes, and reluctantly making my way to the little table where Karen was standing.
I slouched into the big bean bag chair next to the table. Karen looked at the beanbag chair next to me, frowned a little, then pulled one of the metal chairs from another table over. It made a horrible scraping sound as it was dragged across the tile floor.
“So, what makes you want to work at the Happy Bean?” I said, going through the mandatory interview script with as little enthusiasm as possible.
“Well, someone offered me a challenge, right?” Karen said.
“What!?”
“You said you wish that I had what it takes to work in a place like this, didn’t you?” Karen asked. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
“That’s not what I…” I began. Exactly what had I said yesterday? I didn’t remember it sounding quite like that.
Whatever. It didn’t matter.
A family walked in the shop: a large woman with beat up looking spandex, a tough looking guy with some chains, and two small kids. Tobey was good worker, but he could sometimes be on the slow side. I had to just get this over with if I didn’t want a line to start forming.
“So… what was your previous job?”
“This… would technically be my first actual job,” Karen replied. “But I was president of my homeowner’s association, community manager for my church, and volunteer tennis coach at my country club, if any of those would do.”
“If you can afford to play tennis all day at your country club, why do you need to work at a coffee shop?” I asked, finally giving up the script.
“Because… well… it’s kind of embarrassing, really…” Karen began. The door swung open, and more customers walked in – an impossibly buff lady and a twink guy in a silk shirt. The buff lady had to duck a little to avoid hitting her head on the door frame.
“Why’s it takin’ so bloody long?” said one of the earlier customers, in a thick, low class English accent. God, had Tobey not even finished with them yet!?
“You see, I recently got divorced. So… got to take care of myself now,” said Karen. “That’s why I was a bit on edge yesterday.”
For a brief moment, I actually felt a little bit sorry for her. Of course, it didn’t last.
“So sorry if you felt ‘triggered’ or ‘offended’ by me or anything,” Karen added.
She was sorry… if I felt offended? It was the least sincere apology I’d ever heard.
Another couple walked in the shop, this one a zaftig woman with red hair and thick glasses, along with a geeky guy with even thicker glasses, their shoes squeaking a little as they shuffled forwards.
“So, how much can you offer?” Karen asked.
What a question. This wasn’t a real estate transaction – it was a retail job.
“Store policy is minimum wage plus tips,” I said, hoping that would scare her away. But Karen just shrugged.
“Gotta start somewhere I guess,” she said, grinning at me with those big, almost neon-white teeth.
“Look at how slow they are, JD. Our coffee shop is like, way better,” said another customer in line, a blonde bimbo with her jock boyfriend.
Tobey weakly waived at me. Sweat was already pouring from his brow.
“So, when can I start?” Karen asked.
“I’m sorry, but there’s just no way that…” I began, but just then, the door swung open again. A heavyset, older, couple walked in, wearing what looked like some very fine Italian suits.
“Hope this place has come good biscotti,” grumbled the man. “If not, I’m taking their Yelp page to the fuckin’ cleaners.”
I glanced at the growing line of customers, and back to Tobey. I realized that even if I rushed back to help, we’d still be short staffed.
I really didn’t have a choice.
“Can you start right now?” I asked, knowing I’d almost certainly regret it.
Read the rest on Amazon!!