Day one of the Coup D'é-Tea

It was the dawn of a new age, an era where coffee shops would be seen as more than just a haven for hipsters and suppliers for caffeine junkies. Gone were the days people would turn their noses up at "overpriced sugar milk" and "overrated latte art." No longer would the world look down upon baristas and their minimum wages, especially those forced to wear flat caps like kids selling newspapers during the Great Depression.

Now, Cora was going to war, armed with her trusty portafilter and steam wand. Well, her company's portafilter and steam wand, but she knew how to wield them. And no one was going to stand in her way.

Luckily, there were plenty of coffee lovers in the food court the next day, and their chatter over the whirring blenders drowned out Angie the Orange's singsong battle cries from enemy territory. That was more than enough to get Cora in the zone.

First, she focused on the milk, frothing just enough for a couple lattes as she glanced at the orders screen above her. Scratch that, one tea latte and two cappuccinos—a little more foam wouldn't slow her charge.

As the milk steamed, she went to take a shot at the enemy—or rather, pull espresso shots for the drinks. The clicks of the espresso grounds dispenser was rhythmic, and she followed it up with gentle chimes from the powder hammer clinking against the portafilter. The espresso machine whirred as liquid gold flowed into the glasses. In the background, the steamer hummed, and Cora drummed paper cups against the steel counter, ready to jump into action.

The machine clicked; the shots were done. The milk was a few degrees shy of a hundred fifty. Go.

She stopped the steam and slipped the shots into the cups. Splashes of milk kept the espresso alive, followed by a pump of chocolate syrup in one—mix, mix, mix—more milk, then dollops of perfect, fluffy foam.

Finally, the most important battle: the handoff.

"One Earl Grey tea latte for Michael!" Cora called, activating her secret weapon: her own melodic battle cry, sweeter than any tangy orange could ever be. "One regular and one mocha cappuccino for Linda!"

Following that up with her pristine smile and a charming "have a nice day," and two more patrons left Cool Beans happy.

Dang, she was good at this.

"Order for Charlotte!" a powerful, husky voice filled the bustling food court.

Cora managed to hide her grimace behind the espresso machine just in time, and she peered between the Cool Beans customers and across the fluorescent-lit battlefield.

Deep in enemy territory, Farron was winning a battle of her own. As always, Fruitastic was crowded with customers, but that didn't seem to faze Farron the slightest as she passed a tray of smoothies to a patron with her usual borderline grimace and halfhearted nod. She was already headed back to the blenders before the customer even left the handoff counter, as if she wasn't worried about being scolded for her subpar service. Oh right, who would scold her? Farron herself? In a mirror? While drying her tears with her assistant manager paycheck?

For two infuriating years, Cora could only watch from across the food court as Farron received one undeserved perk after another. When the assistant manager took an extra long lunch break during a rush, was she publicly humiliated by her boss? Of course not; she was even allowed to take a nap in full uniform, and she could snore. She strolled into work late without a care in the world? That was fine—she even got a surprise birthday party thrown in her honor, shutting down business for a full hour. She closed up early so she and the other sour fruits could watch a movie together? Why not, they even took the store's leftover granola to snack on.

And then there was Cora. She wanted an extra five minutes for lunch? With jokes like that, she should have a career in comedy. The flat tire on her bus made her two minutes late? She should have run the rest of the way, and corporate would receive a Penal-Tea Report with her name on it. She wanted to leave before the end of her shift? That was fine, as long as she was also fine with unemployment—again.

Cora hadn't noticed she was glaring at Farron until the woman looked her way, and even then, Cora only deepened her expression. In response, Farron smirked, then held up her fruit-filled blender and gave it a small shake.

She wanted a fight? She was going to get one.

Right on cue, Cora caught wind of the next customer's order.

"I'd like a caffe hazelnut blended, please," they said to Darlene at the register. "And could I get chocolate chips in that?"

Blended.

With that one word, Cora spun around to grab a blender of her own, then turned back to stare Farron down. By then, Farron was already working again, her lethal glower more focused on murdering her next fruit victims. Before Cora could follow suit, Farron looked up, spotted the blender in Cora's hand, then glanced at the customers waiting for Fruitastic.

The line for Fruitastic had just over a dozen people; Cool Beans had about the same. At the end of Fruitastic's line was a patron wearing a bright green baseball cap; for Cool Beans, the last customer had a pink-striped shopping bag.

Cora turned back to Farron just in time to see her gaze pointed at the end of the Cool Beans line. A beat later, her eyes met Cora's, and when she smirked, it was even wider than before.

Who would be served first? There was only one way to find out. Let the blend-off begin.

As soon as Cora spun back around, she began shoveling ice into the blender. She didn't bother checking if Farron had taken her up on her unspoken challenge. There was no time to waste, especially if Farron was also racing against her. If she wasn't, then she would simply prove how unmotivated and unfit she was for her supervisory role. Regardless, Cora had to win.

Her hands moved on their own as they dispensed ingredients into the blender, only calming slightly to keep from making a mess. In seconds, she had the blender ready to go, and she glanced at the order screen to mentally prepare herself for the next battle...

But there was only one order there, and it was already sitting in her hand.

Cora glanced at the registers as she headed towards the blender bases. Darlene was waiting for a customer to fumble through their wallet; a small pile of coins already littered the counter. Next to her was Kevin, the twenty-three-year-old newest member of the Bean Team, wearing a strained smile as his customer spoke while pointing at the overhead menu board. Their conversation was inaudible over the sound of ice being crushed, so Cora rushed to the neighboring espresso machines under the guise of preparing shots.

"And what about the tea lattes?" the customer asked, pausing between each of their words. "Are those...healthy?"

"Those are teas...with milk and sugar," Kevin said, only speaking a fraction faster. "But you could get them without sugar."

The customer cringed. "But...then it would be gross."

"Um..." Kevin glanced at Darlene, who seemed oblivious to his struggles. "I think it would still taste fine. Do you like tea?"

The customer was silent for a couple seconds. "No."

"Oh..."

Before Cora could intervene, the sound of the blender shifted—the drink was done.

By the time she handed it off to the customer, Darlene was busy counting pennies and Kevin had finally moved on to the next customer. Cora checked the order board: a blended caramel with extra caramel. Seriously? So much for being healthy.

Across the food court, the green cap had advanced about four places; in front of Cool Beans, the pink shopping bag hadn't moved. Cora's eyes drifted towards Farron, only to turn back to the blenders just as Farron's head tilted upwards. She couldn't afford to be distracted, not when the battle was just getting started.

As Cora prepped the caramel concoction, Kevin's feeble greeting to the next customer was cut off by a laugh. A quick glance towards the registers showed the customer was on their phone.

Cora had no qualms with running the blender at a higher power than necessary.

It took the entire blending time for the customer to end their call, and by then, the green cap at Fruitastic had halved the distance to the registers. Luckily, Darlene had submitted her coin counter's order, and Cora started pulling shots for their Americano while listening in to the phone talker's request.

"I'll get...a mocha? Latte. And nonfat milk."

Kevin wasted valuable time pausing. "Sorry, what size did you want?"

"Did I not say small? Oh, and iced too. But light ice. And caramel, but only on the whipped cream. I said I wanted whipped cream, right?"

"Uh..."

Cora didn't blame him for being flustered. Their computer system required inputting the drink details in a specific order, and all of the modifications likely went in one of Kevin's oversized silver ear gauges and out the other.

As Cora dispensed fresh espresso grounds, she pictured the register's monitor and the sequence Kevin would have to push the buttons, then leaned closer so Darlene couldn't hear her. "Small, iced latte, mocha, nonfat milk, whipped cream, caramel, light ice."

"Oh, uh..." Kevin's fingers scrambled over the monitor. "Thanks."

Cora hummed in acknowledgement, but it was drowned out by the whirring of the espresso machine.

From there, Cora only stopped at three places: the espresso machine, the ice maker, and the handoff counter. A part of her was disappointed it wouldn't be an equal matchup unless she and Farron were both at the blenders. The rest of her was relieved. Cool Beans didn't have as many blenders as Fruitastic, and Cora would waste valuable time trying to wash them between orders. Besides, making espresso-based drinks still took a lot of time and skill. It was still a fair fight.

All Cora needed to worry about was herself. The equality of the playing field wouldn't matter if she lost. With that, she focused on timing her espresso shots right, making sure the steamed milk had enough perfect foam, and maintaining her pleasant smile whenever she felt a customer looking her way. She didn't even bother to monitor Farron's progress.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she glanced up at the order screen for the name on the last order, but she stubbornly restrained her relieved sigh. "One English breakfast tea and one iced Americano for Sierra!"

When "Sierra" approached, Cora's smile almost dropped from her shock. The customer had a pink-striped shopping bag hanging on their arm. The pink-striped shopping bag. The end of the line.

In her surprise, Cora almost turned straight to Fruitastic before remembering the waiting customer, and after sending them off with a pleasant smile and farewell, she finally let herself have a glimpse at the enemy.

The Fruitastic line still stretched out the store—a good sign—and Cora squinted at the waiting patrons in search of the green cap. She didn't see them at first, but she wasn't too worried. Some customers were on the taller side, and Cora could barely see Farron through them.

Until a bright green spot shifted in her peripheral vision, and Cora felt the defeat before she fully saw it.

The customer with the green cap was already seated in the crowded food court, chatting with another smoothie-sucker with half-eaten Fruitastic salads on the table between them. Not only had they been there for ages, but Fruitastic was still serving more customers while Cool Beans no longer had a purpose.

Of course, that had to be when the Fruitastic line thinned out just enough for Farron's short stature to be seen through them, her sour face still focused on the blenders in front of her. Before Cora could shift her gaze, Farron's eyes were on her, then on the pink-striped bag at the condiment counter, then to the green cap. While Cora expected the woman's wide smirk and subsequent wink, it was still infuriating, and Cora forced herself to hold her gaze and remember the fire burning within her.

The first battle of the Coup D'é-Tea may have been lost, but it was only the beginning.