Day eighteen—or maybe nineteen?—of the Coup D'é-Tea

The day's battle was at a tipping point. The business suit in front of Fruitastic and the cosplayer at Cool Beans both had five customers between them and the respective registers. Cora's intel was lacking on the cashiers of the enemy, but within her own territory, they had Kevin all by himself, scrambling. Still, he was doing surprisingly well, and even though he constantly looked like a deer in the headlights, the line in front of him kept moving. And yes, the customers left the line only because their orders were successfully taken, and not because they got tired of waiting.

Behind the espresso machines, Cora was in the zone. While her ears focused on the customers placing their orders, her eyes darted between the cup in front of her and the one about to receive two espresso shots a foot away. Once the liquid gold began to flow from the portafilter and into the second cup, Cora turned to the first drink, letting the aroma of its hazelnut syrup engulf her senses as she poured warm milk inside.

After she finished and handed off the beverage with a wide smile, savoring the last whiffs of hazelnut while she could, she chanced a glance across the battlefield.

Even without Farron, the unbalanced fruit salad of Fruitastic employees was managing to stay relatively fresh. Still, the remaining three workers were hardly a threat, and while they provided a challenge, it wasn't the one Cora wanted. It had been nearly fifteen minutes since Farron stepped out, winking at Cora and waving with her keys as she passed. Darlene had left too, though not as cheerfully and more in a hurry, only muttering that she would "be right back." Were they at some exclusive convention for managers of beverage establishments? Or maybe a fight club. Cora didn't think Darlene would be any match for Farron, but who was she to judge?

A loud sigh sounded from the registers, and Cora's focus shifted to the source.

The middle-aged woman in front of Kevin looked like she had just dropped the kids off at soccer practice and needed a little caffeine before arguing with the coach to win her offspring more playing time. Cora telepathically sent her condolences to the woman's future victim as she retrieved the cup from under the portafilter, listening for the woman's order.

"I'll get..." the woman began, pausing as she scanned the menu, "a large...no, extra large caffe mocha blended with hazelnut and caramel, four shots of espresso, soy milk, not too icy, extra whipped cream with that chocolate drizzle, plus some chocolate-covered espresso beans. Do you kids have those crushed cookie things? I'll add that too. Oh, and extra mocha. And a little bit of peppermint with that too. Actually, no, do you have that sweet cream thing that goes on top? I'll take that instead."

Cora froze in the middle of pouring milk and turned. Kevin looked just as nervous as he always did—or maybe he just had a resting anxious face.

"Is that...all one drink?" he asked, stammering only slightly.

"Of course, dear."

A few silent seconds later, the order appeared on the screen above Cora, and Cora had to restrain herself from crying tears of joy. Kevin input the drink customizations perfectly.

Instead of sobbing in the middle of her shift, Cora channeled her excitement over Kevin's success into her own work, quickly finishing the drink in front of her and handing it off before starting the shots of espresso. As she compiled the plethora of ingredients in a blender, she overheard the next order: a medium roast coffee, black.

"Got it," Kevin mumbled as he spun around to the coffee brewers, a medium-sized cup already in hand.

Cora sighed exaggeratedly as she covered the blender. "I'm so proud of you right now."

Kevin lowered his head at her words, but Cora could still see the glint of his braces as he smiled.

A minute later, Cora worried she had spoken too soon when the next customer said their order, and there was nothing from Kevin except silence. She hoped he was just mildly surprised. After all, the customer ordered almost the exact same drink as the soccer mom.

Terrific. It must have been another social media trend.

"Would you like anything to, uh, eat with that?" Kevin asked as the drink appeared on the order screen, right alongside the previous one.

That time, Cora's eyes really did well up with tears.

"You were amazing, you know that?" Cora told Kevin when the last customer had finally been served, and the duo cleaned up the remnants of the battle. "That was spectacular. I knew you could do it. Well, maybe I was a little worried, but I knew you had it in you."

Again, Kevin directed his smile downwards at the dishes he was washing. "Thanks. You helped too, though. The thing you told me about picturing the ingredients as they're mentioned? As if I was making the order as they spoke? I couldn't have done it without that."

It was Cora's turn to be embarrassed. "You would've figured something out eventually. You're a fast learner, Kevin, no matter what Dar—other people might say."

Kevin seemed to know exactly what Cora was originally going to say, and after staring at her for a moment with wide eyes, he grinned openly, braces and all.

"Excuse me!" a voice snapped from the other side of the counter. "Get me the manager now!"

Cora felt herself freeze at the nearly shrieking voice, and she didn't need a mirror to know she looked as shocked as Kevin's paling face. It seemed like their excitement was about to be cut short.

But maybe this was the chance Cora was waiting for. There was only so much she could do by challenging Fruitastic and submitting Beannovations to show her qualifications. At last, after eight long years, she was the most senior member of the Bean Team around to handle a problem. And she was determined to show off the high quality Cool Beans service they claimed to be known for.

So Cora turned with the widest smile her stiff face could muster.

It was the soccer mom. While her expression before was mildly annoyed, it had transformed since then, twisting in reddish anger. In her bony hand was the extra large blended cup Cora handed to her earlier, half of the contents gone and the plastic partially dented under her merciless grip.

Cora inhaled through her beaming teeth before stepping forward. "Hi, ma'am. Is there a problem?"

The woman's fiery eyes snapped to Cora, looked her up and down, and glared. "Yes, actually—you. Now, where's your manager?"

Out of all the scenarios Cora imagined, that hadn't been one of them. Never had a customer complained about her alone, and she strived to uphold that honor. So what had she missed this time? Where had she gone wrong?

Again, Cora took a deep breath. While she couldn't keep up her smile, she needed to keep her calm, even as her body began to ache from the tension.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Cora said, her voice much steadier than her mind. "The manager stepped out for a moment, but I'd like to make things right. Could you tell me what's wrong?"

The woman stared at her for a moment, as if appalled that Cora was even talking to her, before scoffing.

"This is what's wrong!" she snapped, thrusting the cup over the counter and into Cora's face.

Cora jolted back on instinct, but when the cup—and the woman's hand—didn't end up smacking her in the face, she slowly straightened her posture again.

"Sorry," Cora said, her voice catching slightly. "What's the problem exactly?"

The woman scoffed again, sharper, followed by a haughty laugh. "Of course you wouldn't notice it now if you didn't see it the first time around. No wonder you're working here instead of a real job."

As soon as those words hit her, a wave of warmth crawled up Cora's face, burning her eyes.

"Could you tell me what the problem is?" Cora repeated, though she could barely hear her own shaking voice.

"Seriously? Read the label, darling. Or did you not make it past kindergarten?"

Cora held her tongue, not trusting herself to speak when it felt like there was a clump of coffee grounds stuck in her throat. Since the cup was so close to her face, she had to lean back a bit to decipher the text.

Sherry

XL Caffe Mocha Blended

ADD Hazelnut

ADD Caramel

ADD Mocha

ADD Ppmnt

ADD Shot

ADD Shot

ADD Shot

ADD Shot

SUB Whole

Wait. Whole milk?

Cora's eyes darted up to the name, down to the substitution, back to the name, then to the woman and her haughty face. This woman ordered soymilk. Her name wasn't Sherry—it was Sheila.

When the realization hit her, Cora felt as if her heart dropped, dragging down the rest of her internal organs along the way. Never had she given the wrong drink to the wrong customer before, and she didn't think she would start making such a huge error just then. But what if that was the problem? What if, after all these years, she had let her guard down?

"I am...so sorry," Cora managed to say. It was the least she could do after such a huge screw-up. "I can make you a new drink right now. It will only take a few minutes."

"A new drink?" Again, the woman—Sheila—scoffed. "Do you think I want another mistake from this shitty place? No, you can bet your ass that I am not going to even touch anything that comes out of here, or any of your other stores, ever again. No, missy, what I want is a refund."

Cora's eyes widened, first at Sheila's unexpected language, and then at her last word. "A...a refund?"

"That's what I said, isn't it? What, do you not know what a refund is? It's when you give me my damn money back as compensation for such shitty service!"

At Sheila's constantly raising volume, Cora couldn't help but glance past her. Throughout the food court, the activity came to a silent standstill. All eyes were focused on Cool Beans, and not in a way Cora had ever wanted. And it was all her fault.

Darlene was going to return in the middle of the commotion and end up having to profusely apologize to the customer, then file a Penal-Tea Report against Cora. Cora would be fired, get kicked out of her apartment, and have to find a job while living on the streets. Even if her manager didn't show up, there was bound to be someone livestreaming within the crowd, and the fallout of Cora's mistake would go viral. She would definitely be fired for giving Cool Beans a bad name, and the entire food service industry would blacklist her. Not only was she going to be unemployed and homeless, but she was going to spend the rest of her life—and death—alone.

Would anyone go to her funeral? Would she even have one?

"I-I'm sorry," Cora stammered, her voice trembling with her body. "I don't have permission to do that. Our manager should be back soon, and she can take care of it for you. Or...if you need it now, I could give you a gift card instead."

"Did you not hear a word that I just said?" Sheila laughed once, but it was far from humorous. "And you people think you deserve more than minimum wage. I don't want a damn gift card for this place! I...want...money! Real money! Do you know what that is? No, of course you don't, because you don't make any!"

Cora couldn't respond, not when she couldn't deny Sheila's words. All she could do was stare at the woman's red face with wide eyes and quivering lips.

"Do you even know what I ordered?" Sheila continued, shaking her cup around so vigorously that the remaining contents began to fly out of the hole in the dome lid. "Soymilk! Do you know why I ordered soymilk? I can't have dairy! I am lactose intolerant! Or do you people not care about my dietary restrictions?"

"But..." Kevin muttered from behind Cora, his quiet voice much calmer than Cora felt. "The sweet cream has dairy..."

"Is that what this company is about?" Sheila pressed on, easily drowning out Kevin's attempt to intervene. "Seeing people with food preferences as a chance to play a practical joke and force feed them lies? Is this funny to you? Are you laughing now?"

"N-no..." was all Cora could say.

"Really? Because you sure as hell aren't taking me seriously enough! Fine! If you're not going to give me my money, then why don't I just take your paycheck? Then none of us win." Sheila scoffed as her eyes looked over Cora once more. "Of course, I imagine you have more to lose than I do."

"I don't know about that," a familiar husky voice said.

Sheila spun around, and while Cora couldn't see who she was looking at, she would recognize the sound of Farron anywhere.

"And who are you?" Sheila snapped, then shook her head. "Look, you don't know what's going on here and how these people are insulting me, so just stay out of it."

Farron chuckled from behind the woman, and as much as Cora wanted to beg her to stay out of it, to not risk her job for her, she couldn't say anything. She couldn't even move. She was useless.

"I think I know more than you expect," Farron said, her tone light and amused. "You have a problem with your drink, right?"

"Did I not make that clear enough?" Sheila said, her volume thankfully lower than it was a few seconds ago. "These people gave me the wrong drink on purpose! They violated my dietary restrictions for fun!"

"That's a shame, really. Why don't you bring your friend in here and we can all sort this out together?"

In the long silence that followed, Cora thought she went deaf from all the screeching.

"What friend?" Sheila snapped.

"You don't... You don't remember?" Farron asked innocently. "The person you were just outside with, like five minutes ago."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Farron tutted softly. "Oh, dear, you might want to see a doctor about your memory."

"I am here by myself, just trying to buy something nice for myself!" Sheila shouted.

"Really? So you didn't buy similar looking drinks with your friend, then swap them outside so you could come in here and yell at some poor workers just doing their jobs?"

Cora inhaled sharply. That couldn't be true...could it? Was Farron making that up? Why would she take such a gamble?

But when Sheila didn't respond right away, Cora wondered if Farron was spot on.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Sheila said. "What the hell are you saying? Are you calling me a liar?"

"Absolutely," Farron said.

"You—"

"I have the video to prove it," Farron continued.

"You're a liar," Sheila hissed, her voice quiet for the first time that day.

When she took a step closer to Farron, Cora finally spotted a sliver of Farron's smaller figure. While Farron had been wearing her bright orange polo shirt when she left, it had mysteriously vanished since then, leaving only the fitted black tank top she normally wore underneath. Actually, there was no indication of Farron's affiliation with Fruitastic at all, or with the mall or food court.

In that brief moment, Farron glanced at Cora, softened her smirk to a reassuring smile, then turned back to Sheila.

"And you're a proud parent, aren't you?" Farron asked, raising her eyebrows. "Judging by your license plate frame—oh yeah, and the dozen bumper stickers on your blue minivan. PTA too, I'm guessing?" She tutted again as she began to circle Sheila like a hawk, only stopping when she stood between her and Cora. "Not for long, once that video of you goes viral."

Sheila's eyes widened for a moment before narrowing, but she didn't try to close the gap between them again. "You're bluffing. If you really have a video, where is it?" She laughed, but it sounded more hysterical than bold. "You can't show me because it doesn't exist because you're a damn liar."

"What, you really think I'm going to show it to you so you can take my phone and delete it?" Farron laughed as she crossed her arms, her toned muscles still visible to Cora behind her. "You really think you could take me on? And even if you could, it's already on the cloud. Face it, lady, you're out of luck."

Surprisingly, Sheila's only response was silence as she opened her mouth, closed it, then growled.

"This isn't over!" she snapped, shaking her cup at them. "I will be filing a complaint about this atrocious behavior."

"You're the one with the atrocious behavior," Farron said. "Who causes a scene over seven dollars?"

"It was ten!"

"Ten dollars for caffeinated sugar milk from a mall food court? Looks like you've got other issues to sort out before you start bullying food service workers."

With that, Sheila growled one last time before throwing her cup at Farron's feet and marching out of the store. The burst of plastic was amplified in the quiet food court, but Farron didn't seem perturbed by all the attention, merely sighing before turning towards Cora.

"You okay?" she asked with a small smile, but her eyebrows were pinched in concern.

"Y-yeah," Cora breathed, even though that was a complete lie. "Thanks."

"You're Cora's friend, right?" Kevin asked, his timid voice actually louder than Cora's for once. "From Fruitastic?"

Farron grinned at him. "I suppose we're at that stage, aren't we?" But when her gaze met Cora's again, her smile slipped. "Are you really okay?"

Cora nodded, but she couldn't escape the truth that still rang in her ears: maybe she wasn't as qualified as she thought she was.