Cinnamon and Spice Conundrum (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

Chapter 5

Ryan/Jack

My first morning as the new Cinnamon & Spice Café barista flies by. With how Sam described Sadie’s café and the financial strains she’s feeling, I figured there would only be a slow trickle of customers. Instead, a flood of customers eager for both the baked goods and the coffee filled the morning. So why isn’t she making any money?

An elderly gentleman shuffles through the door, leaning heavily on his cane. He’s moving about as fast as molasses in January. Should I offer him some assistance? I don’t want to insult him, and his frosty demeanor—capped by a very prominent frown—keeps my lips sealed.

“Where’s Sadie? And who the blazes are you?” he asks once he’s painfully made his way to the coffee counter. His accusatory stare is rather off-putting, as if I’ve kidnapped Sadie and am holding her for ransom in the back room. His voice sounds rusty, like this is the first time he’s used it this morning.

“I’m the new barista. May I help you?” I inject upbeat positivity into my voice, hoping to win him over.

He grunts. “Got any plain black coffee? Like the Folgers my mom used to brew? What’s with all these fancy-schmancy flavored coffees the kids like now days?”

A laugh bubbles out but I try to disguise it with a cough. Why didn’t he just brew himself some plain ol’ Folgers at home?

Plastering on my friendly, helpful barista face, I say, “We’ve got pumpkin spice or hazelnut coffee right now. The pumpkin spice has been very popular this morning.”

He grunts. “Okay, I’ll try the pumpkin stuff, but don’t put any of those other flavorings in it,” he says, nodding towards the array of pump bottles lining the back of the counter .

“Coming right up!”

“Today’s scone day. What flavor did she bake?” he adds, glancing towards the glass bakery display case and licking his lips.

He must be a regular if he knows today is scone day. I take a moment to observe his stooped frame, shock of white hair, and whiskered face. Is he a retiree who lives around here? Maybe he owns a cabin on the lake just like Sam and Sadie’s grandad. Since I haven’t exactly won him over, I hope he isn’t my neighbor.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Oops! I’ve been caught staring.

“Right, sorry! The scones are blueberry. They were also very popular, we’ve only got a few remaining.”

“Well, I got here just in time, didn’t I?”

Nodding, I ignore his sarcastic comments and concentrate on ringing up his order. “That will be $3.95.” A lightbulb suddenly goes on as to why Sadie isn’t making any money. Her prices are ridiculously cheap. You can’t touch a single cup of coffee shop coffee or a freshly baked scone for less than $3.95 in Denver, yet here you can get both for that price. I make a mental note to discuss prices with my boss.

He grunts. “Don’t I get the senior discount?”

My eyes widen. He’s questioning the already low prices? And this is the first time I’ve heard of the senior discount. Not a single other one of the seniors I served this morning brought it up. “Ah, right. Are you sixty-five or over?” I ask, buying time while I click through the discounts in the register, looking for one labeled senior discount.

He glares at me as if I’m as dumb as a bag of rocks. “Do I look like a spring chicken?”

I shake my head, still looking for a senior discount programmed into the register.

“I’m Wilbur, one of Sadie’s regulars. What did you say your name is?”

Maybe there’s a Wilbur discount listed in the register ?

“Ryan,” I reply, as I distractedly scroll through the discount list.

“Why does your name tag say Jack?”

Dang it! My heart lurches at my mistake. Scrambling to come up with a cover story, I blurt, “Oh! I thought we were introducing ourselves by last name. I’m Jack... Jack Ryan.”

“You ever heard of anyone with last name Wilbur?” he asks, squinting at me.

Sweat forms on my brow, and I feel my deodorant quickly losing its battle to keep me fresh. I’d make a terrible secret agent. Instead of keeping silent, my addled brain digs the hole deeper as I say, “There was a John Wilbur in my high school graduating class.”

“Well, goodie,” he says, his scowl still firmly in place.

Clamping my lips shut lest I spout out any other inane comments, I focus on the register. Finding a discount labeled Regulars Discount, I use it, hoping Wilbur isn’t very good at math in his head in case I’ve still overcharged him.

Clearing my throat, I say, “That will be $3.36 with the discount.”

He grunts. “You are new here,” he says.

I make another mental note to ask Sadie about the senior discount because it must not be the 15 percent I just rang up.

Pulling out a wad of cash and some change, Wilbur slowly counts out the thirty-six cents using a combination of nickels and pennies. Lots of pennies.

“Bring my order over when you’ve got it ready,” he commands in a curt voice, then plods across the café to a booth in the corner. He slides in, produces a newspaper from his jacket pocket, and begins reading.

I rush around, fulfilling Wilbur’s order in an efficient manner. Maybe my speedy customer service will win him over.

“I see you’ve met Wilbur!” Sadie says brightly as she joins me behind the counter. “Isn’t he just delightful?”

“Yes, he is,” I say, continuing to spout out white lies left and right. About as delightful as a grizzly bear .

“I’ll take his order over,” Sadie chirps, grabbing the plate with the scone and the coffee mug I just filled with the pumpkin spice brew. She happily toddles over to Wilbur, joining him on the other side of his booth.

“I met the new guy,” Wilbur grumbles, his voice carrying loudly.

“Wonderful! I knew you and Jack would hit it off,” Sadie replies, clapping her hands.

I can’t hear the rest of their discussion, but I suspect it isn’t favorable towards me. Sadie leans towards Wilbur and glances over at me a few times, a concerned half-frown marring her pretty face. Oh no! Am I going to get fired? Sam will laugh his butt off about that.

A guy carrying an oversized red toolbox enters several minutes later. “Someone got a busted water heater?” he asks.

Sadie pops up from her spot across from Wilbur. “I do! It’s upstairs, please follow me.”

The two disappear, and awkward silence fills the nearly empty café. Wilbur keeps his nose stuck behind his newspaper while I keep myself busy at the brewing station refilling the stir sticks and sugar packets. Hopefully Wilbur doesn’t ask for a complimentary refill because I’m not sure whether Sadie offers those or not.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Wilbur hold up his coffee mug. “How about a refill?” he bellows.

Sighing, I grab the pumpkin spice carafe and say in my brightest voice, “Coming right up!” Guess the curmudgeon’s refill will be going on my tab if they aren’t complimentary.

Tonight, I’m going to ask Sadie for additional training regarding discounts and refills. Obviously I’ve still got a lot to learn.