Chapter 4 Shaun #2
I haven’t done many interviews. I had about ten candidates for Kyle and Anna’s roles and some of them were pretty odd.
The lady who brought her food shopping with her was strange, as was the guy who walked out when I told him that, unfortunately, no he couldn’t bring his pet ferret to work.
Freddie is interesting, to say the least. He's not lacking in confidence, I’ll give him that.
Looking the way he does, I suppose it would be hard not to be a little cocky.
To be fair, some fresh eye candy could help drive up footfall.
We still have our busy moments, but the magpie customers we had after opening are starting to fly off in search of something new and shiny.
After the shocking service I gave this morning, we’ve probably lost the loyalty of at least a few more.
Plus, doesn’t every café need a hot barista? Freddie might be my guy…
The guy.
“Okay,” I put my pen down on the table, “all joking aside Freddie, I’m short staffed.
One of my baristas quit this morning and I haven’t had a day off since we opened.
My supervisor Anna is a single mum who’s already working more hours than she wants to, but she’s been helping me out.
I need someone reliable who picks stuff up fast and is available to start soon.
Like tomorrow soon. How does that sound? ”
Freddie’s eyes flare with surprise. “Wow, that sounds perfect! Thank you so much!”
“No no,” I shake my head, “I’m not saying you’re hired. I’m just seeing whether you’d be available.”
“Oh.” Freddie gives a sheepish grin. “Can I change my answer?”
I nod. “Sure.”
“Hmm,” Freddie taps his chin in mock-contemplation. “Well, I’ll have to check with my people, but I think my schedule is pretty free. As for being reliable, I’ve got you. Just tell me when to show up and that’s when I’ll be there.”
“Morning shift starts at half six for prep.”
His eyes darken. “That’s… fine.”
Something tells me Freddie isn’t an early riser. I suppress a smirk. If he’s not a coffee addict already, he soon will be. Welcome to the world of hospitality workers. Cut us and we bleed espresso.
“Right,” I close my notebook, having filled two pages with nothing but meaningless scribbles, and place it on the table. “That’s all my questions. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”
He raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Okay,” he considers for a moment. “I guess what made you want to open a café?”
I blink at him.
Freddie frowns. “Sorry, was that rude?”
“No, it’s just normally people ask if there are any opportunities for progression or if there are any team socials or something like that.”
“Oh,” says Freddie. “Are there?”
I swallow. “Not at present.”
He gives a single short laugh.
“Right. Seriously though, what made you want to open this place? As a prospective employee, I should probably check if the boss is passionate about his business, you know?”
My jaw drops. The absolute cheek of this boy! I can’t help but laugh, but Freddie just smiles, waiting for me to answer.
“Umm,” I stare at the ceiling as I cobble together a response.
Why did I open a café? So many reasons. Coffee is, and has always been, my special interest. I realised that when I got my autism diagnosis and the assessor told me I talked non-stop about coffee for fifteen minutes in response to the question: can you tell me about something you like?
That should have been my first clue my brain was a bit squiffy.
No need to bring that up now, though. I’ve learned my lesson about being forthcoming with that particular information.
Echoes from when Lara and I broke up still keep me up at night.
“I guess…” I stall for a few more seconds, editing down my answer in my head.
“When I was a student, cafés were always where I’d go to relax; to sip a coffee with a good book or just watch the world go by.
I lived in cities my whole adult life, but I was born here, and I always wanted my hometown to have a place where people could do just that.
Somewhere that isn’t a big evil chain selling crap coffee.
Somewhere nice. That’s what cafés are, aren’t they? They’re just nice.”
I’m surprised at myself. That’s exactly the kind of answer a younger, more optimistic, noticeably slimmer Shaun would have given when he was applying for a business loan a year or so back.
If only someone had told him back then that running one isn’t so much “nice” as it is a complete and utter nightmare, maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.
Freddie’s smile softens as he looks around the place. “This one definitely is. I love all the wood and the lightbulbs.”
“Thank you,” I say, my chest swelling with pride.
“The design took a lot of planning. To be honest, there was going to be a lot more to it. I planned to have this wall of plants, like an entire wall completely covered in real moss and stuff, but it turns out they’re really expensive and it was either that or the coffee machine so… ”
“Gutted,” says Freddie. “Maybe start with a succulent?”
I suck my teeth. “Nah. I really feel like it’s either a wall of plants or no plants, you know?” We share a chuckle which makes me happy. Most people don’t get my humour, but Freddie clearly has good taste. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask?”
“Uh,” Freddie scratches his head and reddens slightly. “Bit random, but could I maybe buy a hot chocolate to go? The snow.”
I look out the window to see the flurries obscuring the esplanade. The weather’s been nuts for this time of year. It’s too damp to settle, but the snow is coming down thick and fast.
“Of course!” I grab my notebook and get to my feet. “Come on, I’ll make you one now before there’s a queue.”
“I don’t have much cash on me,” Freddie grimaces, apologetically. “If you could give me a small one?”
I feel a rush of sympathy. I remember what it’s like to be in my twenties and skint.
“No problem. Give me a minute.”
I dip behind the counter and pull a jar of dark chocolate chips from the cupboard.
Grabbing a carton of milk, I pour some into a clean jug and steam it until it’s hot and silky.
Then I scoop in a generous heap of chocolate chips, a half-pump of vanilla syrup and stir.
Soon, the milk turns the colour of a Galaxy bar.
I grab a large takeaway cup and fill it to the three-quarter mark.
Finally, I top it with a generous heap of whipped cream and a dusting of cocoa powder.
“Voila!” I say, setting the drink down in front of Freddie.
“Holy shitballs, that’s huge!” I raise an eyebrow and he backpedals. “Ahem. I mean wow, that looks amazing. Let’s see…”
Freddie starts counting coins from his pocket but I shake my head.
“It’s on me. For springing that interview on you. Plus, if you freeze to death out there, I’ll feel guilty.”
“Well then,” Freddie picks up the hot chocolate and puts a lid on it, “how can I refuse? Thanks, Shaun.”
“Thank you for coming in. I’ll let you know soon. Do you prefer a call or text?”
“Either’s fine.”
Text then. As an anxious millennial, I’d rather pull out all my wisdom teeth with a pair of pliers than make a single telephone call.
“Great,” I shake his hand one more time. “Nice to meet you, Freddie.”
“Pleasure was all mine.”
The charming sod winks at me again before turning tail and heading for the door.
I watch as he holds it open for a young couple with a pram who thank him as they shuffle past, tracking slush in with them.
Freddie heads out into the blizzard, giving me a final wave as he passes by the window and out of sight.
As I serve cake and tea to the couple, I go over that whirlwind of an interview in my head.
There’s a lot to admire about Freddie. I liked most of his answers.
Often, it’s not so much what they say as how they say it.
No one wants to work with a robot and, while a little short on experience, Freddie definitely wasn’t lacking in personality.
Somehow, at the end there, he managed to flip the interview around on me, which is not only impressive as hell, but it takes balls—or, in Freddie’s case, abs—of steel.
Flashing your body in an interview though? Wild. Maybe I’m just a prude who’s behind the times?
No. It’s definitely weird behaviour. But how picky can I afford to be?
It’s not like West Marbank is a big city.
It’s barely even a town. Quality staff can be hard to come by and, as today has proven, even harder to keep.
Sure, Freddie’s inexperienced, but I can teach him.
Heck, I taught Kyle how to do latte art and he hadn’t even heard of a flat white before he started working for me.
Freddie seems like an artsy kind of guy.
Surely he’ll have sipped a cortado or two in his time?
Speaking of coffee, it’s almost lunchtime and my eyes are about to crust over with exhaustion.
It’s quiet for the moment so I make myself a double espresso. By the time I’ve finished drinking it, I’ve made my decision.
It’s crazy, but I think I’m going to hire him.
I’m going to hire the guy who showed his abs to a complete stranger in a job interview because, in spite of that wildly inappropriate gesture, I like him.
He seems keen and the customers, especially the old ladies, will adore him.
Plus, I didn’t expect to be Uno-reversed in a job interview the way he did.
That impressed me. And perhaps the most important reason of all: I’m desperate and he’s available.
I’d probably hire Hannibal Lecter if he promised to wipe the milk wand after each use.
The lunch rush begins and I lock in for another hour of queue management.
I’m so tired I could cry, the espresso I drank barely touching the sides.
In between serving sandwiches, I put Freddie’s number into my phone and draft a text to him one word at a time.
All the while I can’t help but think maybe Lara was right: maybe opening this place was a terrible idea.
Maybe it’s finally broken me.