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2 May 98
Work was un-exciting, but I had so much energy that I literally started closing at around 6:30, washing off the mats and other stuff. No one likes working in the back (it's the dirtier and harder of the stations) so I took it, and spent hours juicing, cleaning, and dish washing while the two chicks in front enjoyed the still quiet night. I didn't care, it was all in hope of getting home early, and it worked (we got out before 1:30). Way to go, me! One very very cool thing did happen when I was working drinks though.
The chick Gus refers to as Michelle The Manic Chinese Girl came in. I remember reading his entries about her thinking he was either fucked off his ass or just looking for attention, because I had met her before, and she had seemed pretty ok. She knew Jenny, I think through Amy. We had met a good few times, to the point that we'd smile at eachother. She was always at Represso Corner or on the mall, wearing pants "big enough to smuggle small children across borders in." Well anyway, she walked into the coffee place I'm at. Her hair had grown from her buzz cut, and she was with a boy with octagonal glasses. This is funny. I swear. There was a huge line, so she formed one of her own going in the other direction and screamed out her order to me from the other side of the espresso machines. I smiled and waited till a few customers were gone, and asked for it again. It wasn't bad (I had just served someone a double decaf soy mocha with a shot of vanilla to go, so any order seemed like less of a pain in the ass). When I served it to her, she snatched herself another, bigger glass from the pile, and literally dumped her drink in it. It exploded all over the counter, and she quizzed me on how exactly I threw it together, telling me that she had worked once at a coffee shop. She seemed satisfied, but asked for whipped cream for her latte. She snatched the canister from me saying she'd do it herself. She did. Without shaking or anything, so whipped cream and whipped cream air went everywhere. Everything she gave back to me, she literally just slid across the counter at full force and hoped that I caught before it hit the floor. Her original glass, the whipped cream, her money...There was another line growing, but I just stopped taking orders to watch her. I was in a very good mood (and a good thing, too, cause I would have KILLED her on a normal day) and just stepped back and started laughing uncontrolably for a good 30 seconds. She looked me right in the eye, but I wasn't making fun of her. I was in awe of her. The boy she was with gave me little embarassed looks while she took out cassette tape and put it in her drink. No one else found this nearly as exciting as I did. The customers were talking amongst themselves, ignoring it all, with the exception of one girl I've seen at dec meetings, and when she looked at me, I couldn't help but laugh again.
I had seen Michelle at Represso Corner with stacks of cd's, and always figured she maybe had a radio show or something justifiable like that. When I went out on a bus run though, I saw that today, she had brought a full milk crate of records. It was sitting in the middle of the table as she and the boy talked and read. Homeless cassette tape was everywhere. Five minutes later, she was up at the counter because she had poured large amounts of salt in her drink, thinking it was vanilla. It now was "toxic and tasted like shit" (understandably so) so I made her a new drink. I even tried to do the whipped cream like she did, but couldn't for the life of me make nearly as much of a mess. She pranced up to the counter and threw a balled up dollar bill over the pastry case and onto the floor. I put it in the tip jar as she ran away. I was smiling permanently (think of the excitement she brought to an otherwise dull night!) and Sarah told me to take a small break, maybe sit outside and recompose myself or just recover from all the work Michelle had brought onto me. Before she and her octagon-glasses friend left, he came and apologized to me through someone, and said that she had spilled cream on the patio. Not a problem...I take any excuse to go outside. When I was there, she passed by at least three or four times, looking for cigarettes and other valuables. She almost lost control of her milk crate of records, but someone saved her. I loved it. Customers stared at my amusement and asked why I didn't kill her. All I said was, "she's lucky we just played Madonna and I'm in a good mood," but at this point I didn't really mean it.
We got out of work not too late, and the walk up JPA was somewhat lonely and chilling. Long. Getting back home, I found my second of two bizarre emails from Massachusetts waiting for me. Somewhat pissed and in denial, I put on Little Earthquakes and fell asleep hoping that Michelle would not only become a regular, but maybe even an attraction At Espresso Royale. Surprising how Gus doesn't want to move in with her. :) Stories for the Musings I suppose wouldn't be compensation enough for a year of insanity, but still... She isn't insane though. Her eyes are clear and everything's well calculated. She's a freak, yes, but I think she loves it. At home, instead of popping in a Tori cd, I bet she laughs herself to sleep thinking of all the people she's tortured and amused throughout the day.
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