It was a rough day at the Bux. A refrigerator went down, and I had to dump a river of milk. Damn, I felt the price of my stock plummeting with each gallon of milk that went down the back sink. But a barista gotta do what a barista gotta do. Then to add insult to injury, my front drain decided it was the perfect time to back up. Thanks, Starbucks. The fridge was a relatively easy fix I just had to pull it out adjust the dohickey, plug it back in, and wait. And wait. Oh and wait some more for it to drop down to a milk-friendly temp. Which it finally did. Then I had to stock that bad boy back up, and you know rotate and date everything again.
So back to the drain and the ensuing flood. I had thought of using the stir sticks to build myself an ark. But I digress. Contrary to what my boss might think, I’m no plumber, but you know I’m game to stick my hand down a drain and see what’s going on. Eeek you say. Let me tell you: I spent some time in the trenches. I used to work as a daycare provider and as a lifeguard. So I’ve dealt with my share of sick babies and drunk Marines. The sick babies pull at your heartstrings, but drunk Marines, that’s just funny.
Do you know how hard it is to get a milk cap out of a drain? Yeah. And with my fat Vienna sausages fingers, it ain’t no picnic. For the love of Starbucks people, if I told you once I’ve told you a thousand and two times: no coffee grounds down the drain. Baby Baristas, that’s what that little trash can next to the espresso machine is for.
So I’m digging all kinds of things out of the drain, and I’m talking to the Baby Jesus. Who am I kidding? I’m talking to Allah, Shiva, Papa Legba, Odin, Zeus, Buddha, Krishna, Jehovah, Hecate, and Lakota Woman (’cause Regina Jumping Eagle is part Lakota, and I don’t want her to feel left out). I will take help from whoever might be listening to get me through is whirlwind of figurative crap.
But I got through that and got my store back in closing shape and was only twenty minutes late. I needed some love after that. So I drove Sonic and ordered myself a hot fudge sundae. The only thing wrong with the Sonic hot fudge sundae it doesn’t come in “girl-had-a-bad-day-at-work” size. I shoulda ordered two, but that would have looked bad.
Amazingly the sundae made it home intact, ’cause you know friends don’t let friends stuff their face and drive. I stuck that bad boy in the fridge and divested myself of my stinky smell-like-a-sewer uniform and freed the girls from my bra. Because, as every woman will tell you when you are having a rough day, your bra shrinks down a size and your ta-tas start screaming. I got in my jam jams (PJs) after a very long hot shower. Sorry Cali, I know we’re in the middle of a drought, but I had plumber funk on me. Made myself a cocktail. That’s right I’m gonna eat ice cream and have a drink. Don’t judge me there was black slimy gunk in my hand. BTW Starbucks customers, I washed all the way up to my elbows before I made your latte. I know you were thinking about it, but I got you.
All settled in front of my ‘puter, I’m going to put the cherry on my therapy sundae. I spent the next hour looking at hot guys with puppies. That’s right I spent the rest of the evening with some gorgeous men. Shout out to Jason Momoa and the awesome pooches (especially Charlie the one-eyed brindle pit bull), Sonic ice cream, and bourbon. I say it turned out to be a good night.
Much Love Jackie
Aka the J of J.M. Jeffries
Aka Simone Harlow