Coffee Break

Looking at the frenetic cityscape on the monitor in the conference room didn’t calm Janice. It was almost 9 a.m., time for the international team meeting. Coworkers dozed in their black plastic chairs. So much for management’s plan to get them excited about the Paris project.

The nutty aroma of coffee wafted into the room. Coffee. A cup would taste wonderful. But how could she get out of the room without her manager noticing?

Janice slid from her chair and approached the door where he stood. “Bathroom?”

He barely looked down at her as he grunted his answer. “Go.”

Janice slunk into the hall and toward the kitchen. The office assistant, Mr. Anst, stood at the coffee maker with his back facing her. He turned and twisted his face into a mocking smile. "Aren’t you in the Paris meeting now? That’s where all the best agents are headed.”

She hesitated. What a sycophant.  He had too much influence for an assistant, probably because he was the CEO’s cousin. How do these people get so much power? She had worked hard at university, but it didn’t matter at this company. The coffee maker percolated, sounding like beautiful music and making her forget her complaints. She stepped toward it.

Anst blocked her path. The machine burbled.

My head aches. I just need a cup. 

"You forgot?” Anst clicked his tongue. “The bet?”

Janice raised her eyebrows. “What bet?”

Anst shook his head and stepped closer to her. His five o’clock shadow shone under the fluorescent lights.

Janice slid her right foot back an inch. Who has a five o’clock shadow at nine in the morning? She sniffed. And that cologne--nauseating. She swallowed and pushed her lips into what she hoped was a deferential smile.

“One cup?” She clasped her hands and whispered, “Please.”

“Yesterday, you swore you’d give up coffee for six months. You bet a month’s wages. Everyone in the cafeteria heard.”

She groaned. That’s what she got for eating spicy chili at lunch with a group of co-workers. She should have gone out to eat, but they had the meeting about the upcoming Paris project, and her boss had practically ordered her to eat lunch with her team. Anst had sat a table away--probably observing them and taking notes--and he had overheard her complaining about her ulcer.

Then Congater, her team’s leader, had suggested giving up coffee. “It’s the worst for ulcers. Give it a try to see if it works, maybe a month?”

She nodded, not really agreeing. Who didn’t know that coffee was bad for ulcers? She flashed a polite smile. But really. Coffee was her favorite beverage. How would she get through a day without it? 

Suddenly, Anst rose from his chair and walked to their table. He put a hand on her shoulder, which she shook off like an unwanted bug. He smiled down at her, but all she felt was a chill. 

“You know, Congater’s right.”

She raised her eyebrows. Okay, sure thing. This guy really knows how to butt into other people’s conversations. She looked at her team members, hoping one of them would tell him to leave them alone. Instead, they smiled at him and avoided making eye contact with her.

“I see how much coffee you guzzle every day.” His lips twitched at the corners. “After all, I’m the guy who makes pot after pot of it for you. All that coffee can’t be good.”

I’m not the only one who drinks a gallon of coffee around here. She scanned the cafeteria and stopped when she saw her manager at a table on the other side of the room. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, raised as if giving a toast. He drank at least three cups of coffee before 10 a.m. Maybe more. She collided with him every morning as she wandered in the kitchen to pour another cup of java. 

Crossing her arms in front of her, she looked up at Anst. “Okay. What’s your point?”

“That you can’t give up coffee for a month.” He poked her shoulder with his forefinger and smiled at her coworkers. “You guys are my witnesses.” 

The team members nodded slightly, their eyes looking from his face to hers and back to his face again. Congater grimaced, looked at her, and glanced at the table, strewn with remnants of lunch. 

“A month’s salary.” Anst laughed, his belly jiggling. “You make way more than me, anyhow.” 

How’d he know her salary? That was supposed to be confidential. She cringed, her shoulders rising to her ears. Time to speak to human resources about their practices in sharing salary information to underlings. Perhaps he was guessing. Her shoulders relaxed. He had this way of seeming omniscient, but Janice was sure it was all bluster.

Above her head, Anst chuckled and clicked his tongue. “Whelp Janice, I guess you’re just too conservative to take my bet.” He looked around at everyone one last time. “Whattdya you guys think? You don’t want someone too cautious working on something as important as the Paris project, do you?”

Dread and panic filled her like a glass of freezing ice water pouring down her throat. It flooded her chest and stomach and crept into her skin, giving her goosebumps. It had taken her months to get approved to be on the team, to prove her worth to them and their manager, working all night long and on weekends. She fought the urge to rush from the room and run outside onto the patio and warm herself in the sun. Looking up from her chair, she gave Anst a thin-lipped smile and nodded.

“Sure, I’ll take your bet.”

Early the next morning before sunrise, she woke, her head pounding. Pushing back her sheets, she slid out of bed and crept into the kitchen, where she poured a cup of stale dregs from her coffee pot. How will Anst ever know? Unless he’s bugged my house. She almost believed he would do something that creepy to win their bet.

As she dressed for work, she planned to deny all knowledge of their stupid bet. It had to be a joke. And Anst was usually busy with office paperwork. Maybe she could avoid him for a few days. She would be in Paris project meetings most of the week. Perhaps she could even stop and get some coffee on the way to work.

When Janice arrived at the office, she slipped around the back into the ally to throw her empty cup into the dumpster and brushed off her hands after making sure not to bang the lid when she closed it. She hoped no one had seen her lurking in the ally. Her phone said it was 7:20 a.m., a full forty minutes before Anst or anyone started arriving to work before the office opened at 8 a.m. Looking around, she crept back to the front door, tugged at her jacket, and stood up straight before entering the revolving door.

Then she remembered the meeting. Anst and her manager might show up early to set up the monitor and check the connections. Her face flushed and she held her breath as she whooshed through the door and into the lobby. The tile floor sparkled under the fluorescent lights. Looks like no one’s here yet. 

On her way to the office, she passed by the kitchen, stopping by the closed door and listening for the sound of a percolating coffee machine. The lights were off in the room and the machine was silent. She jiggled the door handle, but it was locked.

In a weird way, she felt relieved. The lack of temptation was refreshing. It gave her time to prepare for the Paris meeting. Then came the city view on the monitor, playing for a full thirty minutes in a loop before her head started to pound and the smell of coffee lured her to the kitchen.

And now she stood face-to-face with Anst, her fake patent leather pumps and his tidy beige sneakers almost touching. Yes, that stupid, careless bet. He had dared to call her cautious, impugned her ability to negotiate the Paris deal. She had to take the bet to show she was a tougher negotiator than all of them combined.

Sure, she probably should give up coffee for a few days. She winced as her head started to throb. Okay, a few hours. But she’d been joking about the bet. Any fool could tell. Yet her coworkers might not understand. She had to take action, negotiate the terms of the deal. 

Anst waved an empty mug. “I’d overlook it if you’re willing to . . . you know.” He winked.

Janice hesitated and inhaled. The coffee smelled good. She grabbed the mug and grinned. “Let’s meet after work.”

“Never mind. Enjoy your coffee.” He backed out of the kitchen. 

Janice smiled as she poured the coffee. That was one way to avoid losing a bet. Now if only she could skip the Paris meeting.