Get it Together

My name’s Jamie, and I like to think of myself as a friendly person who tries their best. I pride myself on it. The friendliness keeps the employee’s spirits high and the light atmosphere gets us better tips. Additionally, I try to get orders done without making mistakes. Afterall it would make me upset if I got something I didn’t order too. As such, I have a personal zero tolerance policy for mistakes. It’s intense, I know, but I like being a hard worker. I adopt this persona for a reason, a damn good one. I won’t let anything or anyone get to me.

My eyes drift to my left, Lana and Armin are talking casually again, right next to the boss. We don’t have many customers right now so I don’t blame them. Though doing it so close to him puts a sour taste in my mouth. The boss turns around to look at me, he does that a lot. I feel my eyes narrowing into a glare before I realize what I’m doing. Thankfully, a customer walks in to distract me.

“One well done chocolate croissant please.” the customer spoke with a voice that matched her angel-like visage. She’ll never know how thankful I am for her perfectly timed presence.

“Sure thing.” I say, putting the darkest croissant I could find in a bag. She left us with a generous cash tip and walked out as gracefully as she entered. Customers like her make me happy. With a smile on my face I go to wipe down the prep counter, it’s looking a bit too messy for my tastes.

Just as I walked away, someone else came in and ordered a dozen bagels, sliced. My coworker, Shanice, took the order and walked the bagels over to the counter I just wiped. “Looks like a lot of work, needs some help?” I offer.

“Sure” She says quietly, handing me the other bread knife. She’s a nice girl, speaks politely, cleans thoroughly, and is always looking for work to do. We also have similar interests, I just wish we were able to speak freely about them… Like our other coworkers.

Still, I have a persona to maintain. “Your box braids look nice. Did you try the beauty supply store I told you about?” I asked, slicing two bagels. Shanice already did three, so there’s only seven left. I look around, the boss is still at the grill. Good.

“Yeah, that store is huge. I think I’m going to go there again, they had hair colors I never see out here in the burbs’.” Another bagel sliced, six more to go. I look up, then back down.

“I know right, I go there to get my loc jewelry and cute bonnets. Back when I did my own faux locs I only went to that store for my hair. The stores out here just didn’t compare.” another one sliced. I look up, the boss heading this way, shit.

“I had no idea you did your own faux locs.” Shanice quickened her pace, slicing two more. Just three left, my fingers start sweating. Another customer walks in, but he’s still looking at me.

“Yeah, it was back in college when I couldn’t afford to get my hair done professionally. I did it so often that I just decided to loc my own hair up. That’s how my loc journey started, well, that plus I was tired of detangling my hair for hours.” I finish all three remaining bagels and greet the next customer. He’s still looking at the menu, so I wait at the register, and watch as the boss berates Shanice after she hands off the sliced bagels.

I don’t hear everything, but I think he’s upset that the counter’s dirty. Makes sense since we just sliced a dozen bagels on it. However, she’s literally cleaning it while he complains, talk about annoying. He says something else about me too, but I don’t hear all of it. It’s better that way.

“I’m ready to order now.” the customer says, I grin as though it’s an act of resistance. Another customer walks in behind him, Lana takes him at the other register.

“What can I get you?”

“A Sunrise panini, a bacon egg and cheese on a pale onion bagel double toasted. Three cinnamon cookies with strawberry frosting, two quiches, three hot chocolates, and–”

“One second sir, I just want to make sure I enter everything correctly.” I see him roll his eyes, but I don’t let it bother me. It’s either he takes his time or someone messes something up. Customers like this annoy the hell out of me. Of course, I don’t let it show. I never do. I repeat everything back to him, to which he gives me an irritated nod. Then, I send the order to the grill and complete the portion that I can do.

Three hot chocolates, two quiches, and… right, three cinnamon cookies with strawberry cream cheese. I completed the order before the grill did, so I handed him the pastries and told him that the other sandwiches will be out shortly. Just as I say that, the boss wraps a bagel from the grill up and packages it. Only one bagel.

“Here you go sir.” He calls for my customer, but that can’t be right.

“Wait, he should get two sandwiches from the grill. A Sunrise and a bacon egg and cheese bagel.” I say.

The boss scrunches his eyebrows. “This is the right bagel. A sausage, egg and cheese on a bagel, yes?”

“That’s my order, sausage, egg and cheese on a plain bagel." The other customer announced– the one Lana took. He took his bagel, thanked us, and left.

“Ugh, you guys need to have a better way of doing things! Just imagine if I took his bagel instead of what I ordered. And what the hell is taking so long? Why did he get his order before me?” The customer complained while Allan– the other grill employee, was wrapping his two sandwiches.

“We’re sorry sir, she was supposed to take your name. And she took a while to get your order over here so it took longer.” What? Is he talking about me? How was this my fault? I gave him a look but the customer already set his hateful glare on me.

“Ridiculous, you ought to be fired. Just give me my sandwiches.” He snatched the bagels from Allan’s hands and stomped out. A shiver runs down my spine, but I swallow it and I click my tongue instead. How rude. The doors to the kitchen open with a slam, I look over to see the boss no longer at the grill. Perfect. I’m going to make use of this opportunity while I can.

I approached Lana with my arms crossed. “Hey Lana, that customer really pissed me off.” I say.

“Yeah he was so rude, what the hell was his problem anyway? We make mistakes all the time, at least he still got his order.” She leans back against the counter even though her shirt has crumbs on it. Lovely.

“Yeah but why did the boss blame me? I don’t think that was fair.”

“What? He never does that, he always defends us from rude customers. Are you sure you heard him right?”

“I feel like I did. If he usually defends you guys then why didn’t he do that with me?”

Lana sifted her fingers through her fine blonde, despite the sign behind her that says touching your head is forbidden in a food prep area. For what it’s worth I found the irony to be hilarious. “I think you might be overreacting, he’s probably just stressed.”

Really? I just shake my head, feeling my shoulders deflate “Whatever. I’m going to refill the cinnamon cookie tray.” I do exactly that, taking the tray and trying not to lose my cool. 

I mean, this is only my third week here, my twelfth shift! I know I have my standards to uphold but it's probably ok if I still make mistakes, right? Maybe? I don’t know, but I have a problem when it’s me receiving the blame for someone else’s mistake. Still, I was supposed to get the customer’s name. That would’ve made things a lot easier. Shit, maybe I am overreacting. I’ll just have to do better.

I open the door to the back and look for the cinnamon cookie tray.

“You’re racist, Avyan!” I hear a passionate voice call. The boss walked up to the owner of said voice, lowering his voice and speaking in a stern but harsh tone. Ok, some context is in order. The boss hires a bunch of Spanish speaking workers to help with the tedious kitchen work. They don’t need to speak to customers since they stay in the back, so English isn’t mandatory for them to understand. And they have no idea how much of a blessing that is. Still, I have my thoughts about this arrangement, but last time I spoke up about my thoughts it didn’t end well. Oh, and Avyan is the boss’s name. I know to not be too casual with people in power, hence why I just call him the boss.

I don’t know what caused this outburst. But it was over just as quick as it began, I finished filling the tray and continued like I didn’t see anything. It’s easier that way.

Later in the day we got a random rush. Tons of call-in orders, even more dine-in orders. And the kids, oh my god the screaming kids. As I’m doing another order, I accidentally cut myself on the bread knife. So, I take the knife to the back to wash it, and I take my time getting a bandaid. God forbid I take a small breather, it’s not like being overwhelmed helps me out here. I took one last deep breath, then stepped out of the kitchen. Only, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw next. My breath stilled, dead dripped down my face in bitter droplets.

The lights are out, no, it’s more all visible light was removed from my vision. I can’t see a single thing. Just a pitch black murky darkness.

“Hey, what are you doing just standing there? We have customers!” a voice sounding like the boss called out.

“Wait, I can’t see! What happened to the lights?” The knife in my hand trembled. I wanted to feel around but I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Shit, what the hell is this? What do I do now?

“What are you talking about? Quit making excuses and get to work!”

I have to move, now! I run to where I think the register is, feeling around until I find a screen. “What can I get you?”

“Two dozen sliced plain bagels and a chocolate chip muffin, please.” Of fucking course. I put the knife on what I hope is the prep counter and feel around for the large paper bag.

“Why didn’t you make the BBQ chicken wrap? Stop making other people do your work!” A voice screeched in my right ear.

“What? But I never took that order!” I still can’t see anything! And how the hell could I take an order if I was in the back? I want to say that out loud but I know what happens if I do. Not again.

“Stop making excuses!”

“Hey I need some more strawberry frosting in the prep area, can you refill it?”

“On it!” Where the hell are these voices coming from? All I see is an endless dark abyss, no light, no people, nothing! My heart is beating fast enough to feel it in my lungs, my hands clutch around my locs as I shrink to the ground.

“Get up, what the hell am I paying you for?” I feel the paper bag get snatched from my hands, right, the customers, how could I forget about them? Shit, get it together Jamie!

I rush to the grill to make a BBQ chicken wrap. I’ve never used this thing but if I don’t then the boss will just say I don’t take initiative again. I throw a bunch of stuff on it then head to the prep area. They need strawberry frosting, I have to be the one to do it!

“You guys got my order wrong, I said I wanted pork roll not sausage.”

“Sorry sir, I’ll fix that for you.”

“Jamie, stop messing up the orders. And for God’s sake get the name.”

“There is a name, it says Michael on the ticket!” I yell, throwing some squishy meat on the grill, I hope it’s pork rolls.

“Jamie, the lemonade machine is broken!”

“I’ll fix it!” I yell back.

“Jamie, I need some help slicing these bagels.”

“Jamie, the toaster is on fire!”

“Jamie, stop slacking off!”

“Are you Jamie? I need you to change my baby’s diaper.”

“Someone spilled coffee on the floor, Jamie, why haven’t you cleaned it yet?!”

“Jamie, I need you to bake more macaroons.”

“Jamie there’s a car accident outside, go call the police already!”

“For god’s sake Jamie, get it together!”

“Sorry, I will!”

The next three hours are a blur. My hands fly devoid of my control, as though they’re being pulled by puppet strings. I see nothing, I feel nothing, I do everything. Everything I can to keep this job. I can’t afford to lose this one too, please, not again.

I slice a dozen bagels. I make a grilled sandwich. I pack a large order. I hand it to the void. I hear the boss yell at me. I hear him yell at someone else. I change three diapers. I refill the frosting. I repair a car. I call the police, and the insurance company. I repair a lemonade machine. I put out a fire. I clean the floor. I smile at the customers. I get accused of not smiling. I invent a time machine because I still have macaroons to bake. Then I repeat everything over and over and over again.

And I do it all without seeing anything. I can’t even feel proud of myself because this is the bare minimum. Anyone could do this, I need to get my shit together.

Then it’s done.

I open my eyes, there’s light touching the store once more. I look to my right, Armin and Lana are chatting again. I look to the left, the boss is sitting by the window scrolling on his phone, and Shanice is completing another order.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“5pm, only thirty minutes left.” Shanice answers, she sounds just as tired as I do.

I look back to my right. “I guess I’m just not the right race for these people. I mean, how could I be racist? I have a black boyfriend.” Lana says, I see her meet my eyes for a second. Just look away, Jamie, just look away. My eyes fall on the empty tip jar, I force myself to look away from that too.

Shanice hands off the order as another customer walks in. Armin walks up to take them, so I relax a bit. Should I ask about what happened? No. It was probably all in my head anyway.

“Hey Shanice, why’s there a muffin on the counter?” I ask instead.

“Someone said they didn’t get it in their order, it’s just been sitting here.” Oh, wait. That sounds like my order.

“Was it the same customer that–”

“Jamie, Shanice, this is a perfect example of you guys slacking off. A customer walked in and you didn’t even greet them. You need to stop talking and pay attention, this isn’t some casual hangout. I don’t pay you to just sit and talk all day.” the boss says, then walks back over to his chair by the window. Something sinister swells in my spirit, but I force it down. That's all I can do. I look over to Shanice, who has the same jaded look I see as me.

“Just smile and nod.” She says, then goes to refill the chocolate croissants.