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Post by Raivis Galante on Mar 27, 2012 16:42:42 GMT -5
For once, the coffee shop was active. Which for meant there was more than just Raivis and some down on their luck older businessman type on in the homey albeit a bit mismatched decor of the shop. It was three more people than usual and the Latvian didn't know whether to be happy about it or not. On one side, it meant the family would be wracking in enough to pay all their bills but on the other side, he was the one employee in there to take care of everything. Usually, this was no problem because of said lack of foot traffic but he was honestly worried.
"Just one minute, sir," he mumbled over his shoulder at the next customer as he miraculously avoided scalding himself with the extra large black coffee he was serving to the previous customer as soon as they forked over their payment for the caffeinated beverage. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted them sneaking a dollar out of his tip jar to help pay. This, needless to say, made the young man upset but he didn't dare say anything. Still, the vestige of a scowl appeared on Raivis' face. Needless to say, what inner dialogue he was having was far less than pleasant. Pretending he forgot the fill the thieving customer's coffee to the brim, he turned around and quite sneakily spit in his beverage. Ha. Now he felt ages better as he handed the cup back over, customer none the wiser.
With that act of justice done, the Latvian took the next order, significantly cheerier.
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Post by Marko Iliev on Mar 29, 2012 12:47:53 GMT -5
Like anywhere in the world, supposedly, New York had its pros and cons. It didn't take long for these to become obvious to someone new to the city. But everything, in America, was exactly as it was said to be - it was all on a much grander scale than in Europe. The crowds were bigger, the buildings were bigger, and Marko remembered how amazed he had been as a child, coming from his little secluded farm in Petrich to the urbanised Grad Sofiya. This time, it was tenfold.
Of course, he was barely noticeable alone in Europe (outside of his home county, at least), so there was an even slimmer chance of him being recognised for his profession on the streets there. Not that that was his primary concern, at that moment in time. The club's manager had wanted to switch the team up, so he thought it had been a good idea to bench Marko for a while, and bring in another player. Whilst Marko hadn't been happy about it originally, getting posted to work in an ethnic school in New York for a week wasn't such a bad alternative. He liked kids. He especially liked kids who probably knew who he was, too.
The only downside was, he wasn't getting paid for it. And though the hotel had been payed for, he had a set budget to get him through the week. And the manager had specifically told him, 'Don't blow it all on expensive cheesecake. And don't even think about going to Macy's. This is work, not a vacation'. Usually, Marko wouldn't have given a damn and done it anyway, but in all honesty, everything was shockingly expensive in the city. And if there was one thing he hated, it was paying full price for something. Four dollars for coffee? That was almost six lev!
But finally, after wandering around for about an hour, getting pretty much lost on his way, he found a small, strangely kitsch, but also strangely pleasant looking shop. There was only one server, but though there was a short queue, it didn't look overly busy.
He joined the end of the line, beginning to idly wonder to himself what the week ahead would be like, now his mind was at ease and not preoccupied with having to look for a coffee shop that wasn't a Goddamn Starbucks. However, his attention was taken again when the server - who, on second glance, didn't look much older than twelve or thirteen, maybe - spoke over his shoulder to him. He didn't respond, but he noticed the kid give the evil eye very suddenly (and very subtly) to the man in front of Marko in the queue. Though Marko's mind wasn't particularly sharp when it came to aspects of body language, he knew that look. He'd gotten it plenty of times on the pitch from opposing players. His eyes slid sidelong to the man at the head of the queue, his hand in the tip jar. Oh. He snorted inwardly. That was a pretty bad example of thievery. Anyone and everyone in the shop could've seen that, clear as day. He didn't say anything, though, actually finding it pretty comical. His eyes fell back on the server, spotting the boy leaning over the man's coffee. Again, it was pretty obvious to anyone in the know what he was doing, though his back was to Marko.
He wondered, when the kid had handed the coffee over and had come to take his order, whether he'd be aware of the knowing grin that had suddenly appeared on his face.
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Post by Raivis Galante on Apr 10, 2012 16:14:57 GMT -5
"May I take your order sir?" The smile of righting a wrong in the world just wouldn't get off the Latvian- American's, not to be mistaken with Latin-American's, face. Of course, there was a lurking worry in the back of his mind that his little brand of vigilante justice was spotted by this new customer. No, he wouldn't still be in here if he saw, right? Raivis knew that he himself would leave if he saw such a thing happen. Then again, this person could have stayed just to tell him off. Chewing his lip, he looked up, waiting for the man's coffee order.
Oh! Err, perhaps the guy would have an easier time ordering if he knew what exactly they had. That would make worlds of sense. "Erm, we have hazelnut coffee, chocolate hazelnut, black, raspberry, mint but I dunno how that tastes-seems weird to me, urm, espresso. ." There he was, like an idiot, rambling off the entire menu to the poor guy who looked like he needed caffeine more than anything else in the world. At least he wasn't mumbling.
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Post by Marko Iliev on Apr 18, 2012 17:08:10 GMT -5
It was a few moments before Marko realised that he had the grin plastered on his face... And a few moments longer than that before he realised that the boy behind the counter didn't seem to know exactly why he was grinning. Fair enough, he guessed. He took his hands out of his pockets and shrugged a little, being subconsciously careful of anyone else in earshot. His English still wasn't what one might consider a hundred percent perfect, but he could understand what the kid was reeling off just fine. He was used to being the translator for most of his team mates in English-speaking countries, so he'd picked up how to say 'ploski s mlyako' and 'zelen chai' and 'ledena voda' in English pretty quickly. "Just a regular white coffee. Please." He lowered his voice a bit, the grin spreading a little further across his features. "Without the extra saliva. If you wouldn't mind." He meant it as a joke, really. Hell, he'd have probably done the same thing in the server's position... Well, depending on his mood, anyway. Either that, or he'd have thrown the scalding coffee in the man's face, and threatened to - using 'very colourful' language - cut off his hand.
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((Translations: 'ploski s mlyako' - Flat white coffee 'zelen chai' - Green tea 'ledena voda' - Iced water))
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Post by Raivis Galante on Apr 20, 2012 19:22:50 GMT -5
This was going surprisingly well, the other didn't seem to have caught on remotely. The rare little out lashing the young man had was all but forgotten in his mind until the whispered part of his order. Ooops. Raivis was not nearly as sneaky as he thought he was. He froze for a second, almost a deer in the headlights look on his face. Well, the man didn't seem upset, if anything he looked amused but-No. The amused look was probably a front. The older man was perhaps a Food and Service Industry Inspector and Raivis' little comeuppance just cost the Galante family their livelihood. No good deed goes unpunished and all that.
Nearly tripping over his feet from nerves and the fear he caused from his own wild and honestly quite stupid imagination, Raivis in a shaky manner filled the brunette's order. He really did make sure to prepare it with care-especially once his brain had come to the realization that a health inspector would not be foreign-sounding as this customer. Giving an awkward smile, he set the coffee on the counter before the man. "$3.25 please?" Yes, he took 75 cents off the price as 'hush money'.
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Post by Marko Iliev on Apr 24, 2012 9:45:57 GMT -5
Marko wasn't going to say anything more. Had he had a grudge against someone who had done it, he might well have announced it to the entire shop. But since he didn't, he was perfectly content with not doing that. Besides, he admired the spunk the kid had, although now he seemed jittery having been called out. Which was strange; he would have assumed anyone with the nerve to pull that off would have reacted better if called out. "Calm down, I'm not from the food standards board or anything." He continued to keep his voice slightly quieter than usual. He doubted the boy thought that; he didn't look very official, so really, he was still joking.
He dug into his pocket for his wallet, wading through the shrapnel and lev notes until he got to where he'd stashed part of his American money (the latter being considerably cleaner and more crisp than the former, as travellers’ cheques usually were). He hadn't spent much of it yet, nor was he exactly sure what $3.25 might have been in loose change, nor did it look as if a little shop like this would take plastic, so he simply held out a ten dollar note across the counter to the boy.
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Post by Raivis Galante on Apr 24, 2012 12:26:43 GMT -5
It seemed he was easier to read than a chapter book. "That is very, very good sir. Was afraid we'd be reported, have to sell the shop and die in the streets penniless and filthy," Raivis gave a little laugh, unintentionally vocalizing the train of thought that had overtaken his mind those minutes ago. Realizing his brutal honesty might have been another gaffe, the young man tried to redirect the light conversation. "Ah, where are you from?" Raivis was sincerely hoping this man was a foreigner or at least out of state. There was a limit of even him making a fool of himself in a day, contrary to popular belief.
Taking the ten, he quickly double checked the cash register to ensure he gave the correct change of six dollars and three quarters, along with a receipt, both of which he handed over along with the coffee. The shop's quick spurt of business was over as quickly as it begin it seems.
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Post by Marko Iliev on Apr 30, 2012 17:45:02 GMT -5
Rather than putting the money back in his wallet, he shoved both, along with the receipt, down into the pocket of his jeans. “Really?” He asked, giving a slight shrug. “I wouldnt’ve thought it’d have come to that.” He supposed, anyway. He figured any inspector would have just had this kid fired for it. “Unless this is your shop, or something?” He doubted it, but then again, he could have been wrong. Maybe the kid wasn’t a kid at all, and he was just unnaturally short.
Just as he took the coffee in hand, Marko realised the server had changed the subject and asked him where he was from. It was a question he was used to receiving, especially in English-speaking countries, as he spoke the language with a heavy Eastern-European accent, and the amount of people who had ears sharp enough to narrow it down to his actual nationality was very slim. Likewise, it was pretty obvious anyone who asked that question wouldn’t know him by his profession. “Bulgaria.” He replied plainly. Once upon a time, he would have added a ‘why?’ onto the end of that response. However, since he usually always got the same answer of ‘just wondering’, he’d stopped doing it.
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Post by Raivis Galante on May 4, 2012 18:03:46 GMT -5
Well, in a way, the man hit the nail right on the head. "This is the family business so I guess in a way it is mine. Am in charge of it mostly at this point." He was going to say something about watching for pickpockets with the man just putting the change in his jeans but maybe that would not be a good thing to say. Ah, it looked as if he could handle anyone trying to go after his change in any case. Raivis decided not to worry.
"Very long trip you had then!" The young man could only imagine the plane ride. The journey from Latvia to New York was very trying on his mother back in the late eighties and even more so to his paternal grandparents who made the journey decades and decades before that. Of course, travel and things had improved near 10 fold since then. "Am hoping you have a good time in New York."
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Post by Marko Iliev on May 8, 2012 17:07:12 GMT -5
"I see." He said plainly. That pretty much confirmed his suspicions. No one would leave a kid in charge of a coffee shop... Well, no one in their right mind would, anyway. Or they had a good reason to. Whatever. Marko decided not to question it, either way.
It had been a long trip, in literal timing. However, he had flown overnight, and so he managed to at least sleep for most of it. Six or seven hours out of the nine in total, perhaps. The club had paid for him to go first class, too, which had helped a lot. Not that he wouldn't have slept in a stuffy, economy class seat, had he been tired enough. Realising that his mind was trailing off, he snapped back into reality, clearing his throat. "Eh... Yeah, it was." Luckily, it hadn't left him too jet lagged. Not that he could really afford to be, either. He gave a slight shrug. "It's been fine so far. The city's pretty hard to get around, though." Large cities usually were unless you lived in them, and so it could have been apparent from that fact alone that he was an outsider. He'd seen tourists get lost in Grad Sofiya plenty of times.
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