Before The Coffee Gets Cold Order Novels & Stories

"Some people come in here and act like making coffee is harder than it seems " Sophia smiled to herself. She had always been a fast learner, and she liked the feeling of getting things right the first time. The bell above the cafe door jingled, signaling a new customer. Harris glanced up. "You ready to take your first order?" Sophia took a deep breath, nodding. "Yeah, I got this." She turned toward the register, greeting the customer with a polite smile. "Good afternoon! What can I get for you?" As the customer placed their order, Sophia quickly punched it into the system and started preparing the drink. It was simple enough—just a black coffee with a splash of almond milk.

"But firstly, a cup of coffee. I want a cup of coffee from Starbucks,with precisely three pumps of caramel and a little spurt of vanilla. Make sure the cream is dolloped,not sprayed. Oh, and it should be 42 degrees Fahrenheit exactly." "What?" I didn't know when the word slipped from my mouth—what was that all about? I stood stunned. Nathan sighed; he repeated himself. I used a smart trick, making sure I recorded his voice as I took the order. "Get it done, A." Nathan nodded, and glanced at his gold rollex. "I have a meeting by 9:30." I glanced at the clock; it was past 9, damn it!. I bustled out of the office,my mind silently working the probability of getting what he wanted done without an

The orders started coming in. “Plain black coffee, please!” I can make that I thought with a smile and began to mix it. A few moments later, I had carefully placed the drink in a saucepan. I dropped two sugar cubes by the side and a teaspoon. I carried it on a serving tray and went to serve the middle-aged man who placed the order. I got to his table, lowered the tray and carefully placed the order before him. “Thanks.” He mumbled and I quickly left. That was easy, I thought, and went to carry on with the next order. Alex wasn’t out yet.

"There's my citation. But hey, can I bribe you with some coffee? My treat, of course." She shrugged. "Sure." "What's your poison?" "You know what? It's Sunday, and I'm working, so let's go nuts. I'll take a caffe mocha, no whipped cream." "Done and done. Settle in, and I'll be right back." I put in our order -- a black coffee for me, just so I'd be getting something and not look suspicious returning with only one cup -- and waited. It didn't take long; the baristas were in the zone, moving the line like the pros they were. I took our drinks over to the counter, grabbed napkins, straws, cream and sugar to give me something to do with my hands so my shaking didn't give away my panic, and oh ye

"Venti!" The coffee shop cashier receiving Zoe's order seemed to smile as Zoe just shouted at him. Unnecessary enthusiasm. He could hear Zoe's voice just fine, but it required patience in another form because after that, Zoe fell silent, preparing to continue her order. "Caramel... ribbon crunch frappuccino!" Finally, the continuation of the order was uttered, but it wasn't over yet. The order was for Sara. It couldn't be that simple, and Zoe had to get it right.

I watched as he looked over his shoulder to me before I realized that they both had been waiting for me to order. "Oh, um. Sorry. Can I get a large iced cinnamon mocha, please?" The girl nodded as she wrote down my order on the side of the plastic cup before handing it to the team behind her who then prepared the drinks in a hurry. I felt guilty as Jones pulled out his wallet to pay, but when I remembered his involvement in the walk of shame that morning, I pushed it down. He could buy me a coffee.

He stood a little stooped and he looked older than he had before. “Mr Sanders’ order is ready.” Marc said snapping her out of her thoughts. Jenny placed the coffees on a takeaway tray and checked Marc had labelled them correctly. She walked around to the other side of the counter and picked up the tray before walking over to them. “Here are your coffee’s Mr Sanders. Have a nice day.” She beamed.

A satisfied smile crept onto her face. “Do you care for coffee?” he asked, staring intently at her. His voice had a captivating effect on her. “No, I think I’ve had enough today,” she answered, returning his gaze with a hint of expression. “Calista,” he called, nodding knowingly. “You can have coffee here. What I’m about to say requires that you have coffee.” He gave her a long stare and then picked up the telephone. “Two cups of Americano. One with lots of honey and ice,” he ordered before putting the telephone down.

Pulling the notepad from my apron pocket, I walked toward him, hoping my steps looked professional enough. He glanced up as I approached, his gaze briefly scanning my face before returning to his newspaper. “Black coffee. No sugar,” he said before I could even greet him. I jotted down his order, slightly taken aback by the certainty in his tone. “Got it. Just to confirm, one black coffee, no sugar. Would you like anything else with that, sir?” I asked with a polite smile. He shook his head without looking at me. “Alright. Your order will be ready shortly.”

the worker asks, bringing us back to the present. Kent orders first. "Can I get a large black iced coffee?" he asks, ignoring the Italian sizing names. "What do you want?" He turns to me. "A grande iced chai latte with vanilla sweet cream cold foam," I tell her, and Kent snorts. I roll my eyes. "Anything else?" she asks, and I shake my head. I prefer just a drink; I never like to eat before I fly as it upsets my stomach. Kent pays for both drinks, and soon enough, we have our iced beverages.