Bangkok coffee shop

Mook paid the driver, her money ready in hand before he’d even stopped. She wanted this to be over. Rejection was best done quickly. She climbed out of the taxi and stepped into the sun.

Bangkok was a large city, and the tropical heat tortured it. In the jungle, leaves would have shaded Mook’s head. In the fields what sun missed her would have been sucked in by the grass and captured so it could do no more harm. But in the city? The heat bore down on tarmacked roads and paved walkways, bouncing off and joining the wind. The air cooked you as you walked, like a colossal oven. Mook didn’t have time to be cooked. She had a job interview to get to.

The café was a small building made of white painted wood. Inside was all one room, mainly taken up by the counter and a couple of seats. Most of the chairs and tables were outside in a shaded area walled off from the street by plants. Of course there were a couple of fans as well, otherwise the customers could never be comfortable. It was a garden oasis in a jungle of steel and glass. A good place to work, thought Mook, and with her application tucked under her arm, she really hoped she would. Otherwise, it would be the one-hundred-and-fourth rejection.

“Come on,” she encouraged herself. “Let’s keep it at one-hundred-and-three.”

Mook swallowed her fear and walked forward, entering the shade and leaving the burning city behind. The glass door slid open automatically and the cool release of air conditioning hit her.

“Good morning! Welcome to Sukithorn Coffee.” The barista smiled warmly at her. It wasn’t a customer service smile, trained and forced and made to hide the hatred of working long hours for little pay. It was real and purposeful, and it made her feel at ease. Just a little.

Mook took a breath, then began her prepared script.

“Good morning, madame. My name is-”

“You don’t need to call me madame,” interrupted the barista. She was older than Mook, though not by much, but there was something knowing and wise about her. Like she had walked the world before. “My name’s Pookie.”

“Oh… nice to meet you Pookie. My name is Mook. I would li-”

“Nice to meet you, Mook. Would you like a coffee?” A second interruption. This wasn’t the script at all.

“Err… no thank you. I don’t drink it. I was just wondering if-”

“Really? You don’t drink coffee, but you want to be a barista? That won’t do at all.” A third interruption. This was getting ridiculous now. Not only was this not following the script but it wasn’t even following the rules of a normal conversation.

“I don’t really like it. Though, yes, I do want to be a barista.”

It looked like it was going to be rejection three-hundred-and-four. Mook placed her application on the counter and turned to leave.

“Why?”

She turned back. “Sorry?”

“Why?” repeated Pookie.

Mook shrugged. “Well because I need a job. I’ve got bills to pay and to be honest I’ve applied to so many that I’m starting to think I’m unemployable.”

Pookie frowned for a moment. Then she laughed.

“No, not why do you need a job. Everyone needs a job. I like working here but do you think I would if I was a millionaire? No way. No, I meant why do you not like coffee?”

She was a strange person, Mook decided. Maybe this wouldn’t be a good place to work after all if this was the type of staff they employed. Mook believed she had a healthy wariness of the mad.

She shrugged.

“I just never found a type I like. I like iced cocoa.”

Pookie laughed again. “Everyone likes iced cocoa, its chocolate that’s cool and refreshing. What’s not to like? Don’t trust anyone who says they don’t like chocolate, it means they have something to hide. Maybe you just haven’t tried the right type.”

What is happening? “Of chocolate?”

“No, don’t be silly,” scoffed Pookie, “of coffee. Let me make you one. In fact, you can make it.”

That caught Mook of guard.

“Me? Why would- Wait. Is this an interview?”

Pookie nodded enthusiastically. “Sure, why not? I mean I’m happy to hire you. We need another hand around here.”

Mook couldn’t believe it. “Wait, you’re offering me the job.”

Pookie looked confused. “Was that not obvious? Yeah. The machines easy to use. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Mook followed the direction of Pookie’s beckoning hand and crossed over to the other side of the counter. From the realm of unemployment to a place of purpose. In her search for a job Mook had learnt why they were important, besides having money to live. A job gave a purpose. A reason to get up the morning. It gave you a task and if you learnt how to do it well, then people would like you for it. It gave respect. It gave meaning. That was what Pookie was offering her, even if she didn’t know it. It was almost too much to bear.

Mook stopped just in front of the large coffee machine that took up an entire corner of the counter. It was a metre long and shone like silver, with an Italian looking name etched along the side. It reminded Mook of a spaceship from an old film. Maybe it would be too confusing to use.

“Ok,” began Pookie. “So, we take the coffee from the grinder, tamp it down, and then slot it back into the machine. We press one of these buttons for whichever coffee we want- let’s say today it’s just a normal one-shot coffee- and there we are.”

“That’s it?” Mook asked, not believing such a big machine could be so simple.

She followed the steps, and the machine hummed. A light brown trickle poured out of it and into the cup bellow, so light and delicate that if it hadn’t been brown Mook would have thought it was cream.

Pookie picked up the small cup and offered it to her. “Taste it.”

The smell was nice, but Mook could already tell she wouldn’t like it, but this was a job interview. She had to smile and go along with whatever she was told. Mook accepted the cup and sniffed it. It smelt like coffee and nothing more. This was going to be disgusting. And it was.

“I’m really sorry but I just don’t like it.”

Pookie couldn’t hold her laughter as she watched Mook spit out the coffee and quickly fetch herself a glass of water.

“Wow you really don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry.” That was that. “Thank you for your time.”

She stepped back to the other side of the counter.

“Where are you going?” Pookie asked sadly, like she had done something wrong and driven Mook away.

“Well, you can’t have a barista who doesn’t like coffee. You should hire someone else.”

Pookie grabbed her hand and pulled back to the other side.

“I’m not sure I want someone else. Besides, you don’t need to like it. The customers do. This way we get to experiment and make drinks until we find one you like. One that isn’t iced chocolate. Most of the job is just talking to people anyway.”

Mooks heart skipped a beat as she looked at the barista, smiling down at her and holding a spare apron in her hands.

“You mean… I can work here.”

Pookie nodded.

It became too much for her. Tears welled in Mook’s eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. Let her leave with her dignity. Then she could cry.

“The pay is alright, and the hours are a bit long. But you’ll have fun.” Pookie seemed oblivious to the happiness she was causing. “You’ll have to meet Mr Sukithorn at some point, but he said I can hire who I want so it should be ok. Why don’t you come back tomorrow for eight and we’ll get you started.”

All Mook could do was nod. It’s a funny thing when you’re used to rejection. Sometimes the relief of acceptance is so great it can topple you. Mook bowed her head in thanks and quickly made her way back out to the street.

She left the air conditioning and stepped back into the hot air and the sun, and just for a moment, she didn’t feel a thing. Even the Bangkok weather couldn’t ruin her mood. Things were looking up. She had a job, and tomorrow she was going to earn it.