My Lede... Or What's Been Steaming in the Pitcher So Far...

I was making a mocha. I was “barring” and Jeremy was on register. With a metal pitcher of milk in my right hand, my free hand reached for the steam wand. Steam wands look like non-knuckled prosthetic fingers...generally. Instead of flawlessly lowering the wand into the pitcher sitting on the espresso machine’s grill-like platform beneath its chrome awning, my hand slipped. The smooth, white paper cup emblazoned with the Starbucks logo, was just about to be filled with two shots of espresso. It was going to be filled with steamed 2% milk. It was going to be topped off with a swirl of whipped cream. But with the slip of my hand, it was all going to be downhill from there.

My eyes hung onto the cup how a big cat looks at a slow wildebeest as it made its descent from the bar's silver-colored ledge. I hadn’t any time to wait for this stupid cup to fall. I had at least thirteen more drinks to plow through before the afternoon rush quieted down. But it seemed as though it took three whole days for the cup to actually hit the ground. When it did hit the ground, the cup didn't spill over onto its side like I imagined (or hoped) it would. Rather, it decided to land right-side-up on the grimy, black, rubber non-slip mat beneath my feet. The cup's bottom made a startling 'pop,' signifying its touchdown. The force of the ground on the cup sent the four pumps of rich chocolate mocha syrup, resting peacefully at the bottom, straight back up and into my face. I had just pumped the mocha into the cup not even two seconds ago―story of my life. In a matter of seconds I went from being fairly clean, to literally dripping with mocha chocolate. Spots of it covered my soft, cottony, kelly green apron like sprinkles of blood that would soon begin to crust over.

Chocolate inhabited the lines in my face, where my smile used to be. It lay in my forehead’s wrinkles―the ones that only reveal themselves when one or both of my eyebrows are raised. I could never get my junior high volcano to erupt, but I sure as hell could knock over a cup of dark, messy, chocolate, inducing a sugary eruption that would cause my eyebrows to go into shock mode, leaving me to discover dried mocha in my eyebrow hair a day later. One thing’s for sure... I made friends with the tweezers that day.

I was convinced that everyone in the store had witnessed my spill―even the customers. I wasn’t even a newbie anymore, either. I kept wondering what thoughts were running through everyone else’s heads. All of a sudden, I realized that no one out in the lobby saw, nor cared about my slip-up. I also realized that I still had a decent-sized line of drinks to make. I astutely cracked a laugh, and got back to work. I finished making and handing off the line of drinks following the dreaded mocha and finally made eye contact with Jeremy, just about to leave the register. A spasm of laughter snuck between his lips. Turns out, he was the only one who noticed.