Page 21 of Christmas Coffee

Celyn

By the time I get everything else we need to open in the morning, Quin has completed the interviews and hired the employees. He’s grinning ear to ear when I see him with a cup of Starbucks in his gloved hand later that night. The sky is the color of coal and more snow threatens to fall. If they plow the parking lot again, we’ll be buried from sight. It concerns me, but like everything else in a new business, you worry about issues you can’t control when it’s a real problem and not a moment before.

I bring in bags from the home improvement store and place them on the counter. A shiny percolator is there along with the grinder and some other equipment. The sink is spotless and the floors have been scrubbed. Quin sips his coffee. I scold him, “If you show up with that again, I’ll ban you from the property. How’d interviews go? Should I be worried?”

Quin swats a hand at me. “Fuck, no. I hired a manager and a barista and two baristos. Is that what you call the guys?”

“Are they all hot?”

He laughs. “Like you need to ask. Yes, the women are smoking. The first one—actually she’s the manager—had a stellar resume but she was buttoned up. I didn’t think it would work, but she begged for the job and knew how to bullshit her way into convincing me to hire her. If she could sell me on that, I think she can manage to hit your sales goals. Hell, she was talking trash so much that you should increase those goals. I got the impression that she needs that bonus money. People work harder for that kind of shit.”

“The position pays horrible as it is. The bonuses are attainable for a reason.”

Quin takes another chug of coffee and tosses the empty cup in the trash in the corner of the room. “That’s where you’re wrong. Bonuses should appear to be attainable, but when it comes down to it, they’re not. She works harder, you keep the cash.”

I stop what I’m doing and face him. “That’s being a dick and a really horrible boss. We’re still connected with Bardenbey. I can’t diminish the brand, Quin.”

“You wouldn’t, Celyn. I mean think about it. If you didn’t have to fork over the bonus money, you’d hit the goal that much sooner. And you have to hit it. It’s not optional.”

“I know that.” I snap at him and go back to unloading my bags.

“Then stop being such a fucking idealist. This is business. You save a penny, you earn a penny, and the way this clusterfuck is set up, you need every cent you can squeeze out.” Quin stands, grabs a case of cups and starts stocking the cabinets, putting them in size order with the corresponding lid size below. “Like this,” he holds up the cups. “You only bought two sizes. Why?”

“Because the lids are fucking expensive and I wanted to have the opportunity to upsell.”

“Right, so you needed a minimum of two sizes, but why these sizes?” He holds up the small size and then the grande size. “The comparison is obvious. You can sell this motherfucker for twice as much money. Any idiot can see it’s twice as big.”

I snort and shake my head. “Yeah, but that’s not what I’m doing.”

Quin frowns. “What are you talking about. That’s standard practice.”

“I’m going the snack pricing route.”

Quin’s jaw drops. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“No, I’m not. Listen, if we price the regular coffee at three fifty, we can upsell them to this size for an extra $2 if they buy a cookie.”

Quin sneers. “You bought cookies?”

“I ordered cookies from a bakery that’s on the way here. They’ll have the lot ready at 5am. I pick them up on my way here. I grabbed a display case so they can go in the window.”

“Who’s going to pay two bucks for a fifty cent cookie?”

I laugh. “It’s not what you think, okay? Trust me. It’ll work. We’ll hit our average sale price a lot easier this way. Plus the cookies are cute. Women can’t pass up cute shit, and if a hot guy is telling them to buy it, they will.”

“Cute cookies?”

“Yeah. And I don’t have a fucking dime left. The five grand is gone so all funds for payroll have to be earned this week. Thank God there’s a two week delay before payday.” We’d be totally screwed without it. As it is, the noose feels incredibly tight around my neck. I never do business this way. It’s incredibly risky. I arranged payment on the machines and planned on restocking weekly. It took a lot of convincing to get the monthly rates broken down like that. The prospect of working with the heir to the Bardenbey Corporation was too enticing to say no to. Actually, they said no until I mentioned my name. Then they were more eager to listen, but they didn’t really understand why I was being a cheap-ass and I can’t tell them it’s because I’ll fucking lose everything if I don’t pull this off.

Quin makes a sound and his face contorts as he says it, “Celyn, listen. I didn’t tell them about the delayed pay. Actually, I don’t think any of them could have swung it if we didn’t pay weekly. I changed it.”

“What? Without telling me?” I close my eyes and feel the pressure in my chest increase. Every move cost money. Every time we take a step, it could lead to failure. Imagine losing your entire fucking fortune on one shitty shot. That’s this. The odds are stacked against me. I fucking know that, and withholding a week’s pay fixed cash flow issues. Quin knew that.

“Sorry, man. I thought we could take a loan to get supplies and pay it back.”

“No. The terms don’t allow for it. None of our personal money can mix in here and I sure as hell can’t have them find fault where I lose everything. Damn it, Quin.”

“It was that or we work it, which also disqualifies you. You have to manage payroll, keep your manager, and show competency. I know, and I thought about it. Sorry, man. I didn’t know what other options we had.”

I look at him. “That means we can’t have a soft start tomorrow. We have to hit the ground running. Ideas?”

Quin grins and nods slowly. “Have the hotties stand outside the shack early in the morning and hand out coupons for a free sample cup.”

“What? Another size?”

“Yeah, but hear me out. Make it small and cute. Then upsell to the regular size with your cookie bait. You’ll make a three dollar sale off a free coupon. It’s fucking good coffee, they’ll be back if they taste it. Plus, they’ll see that the shack has hot chicks in it, and be willing to drive over. We can have a few mini cups for the cheap-asses who won’t upsell, but 80% should go for it.”

I didn’t want to run things this way. I didn’t want to come across as a cheap shit and that’s what this feels like. It’s not a bad idea and I know he’s right. I just don’t like it. “Fine. Do it when there’s no line.”

Even with the glass installed, it’s fucking cold in here. My throat tightens as I realize that I can’t be the type of man I want to be—it conflicts with getting my inheritance. There’s a clear division in business between what’s ideal and what’s possible. Nothing is ideal here. The employees are going to be freezing the entire time. We’re both wearing coats to stay warm. The pane of glass helped, but it’s not enough. Quin says it won’t matter, that the girls and guys walking in the parking lot with their scantily clad uniforms won’t matter either. In the end it means more tips for them, and more money for us.

After everything is set up, I go outside with Quin to hang the sign and plug it in to see if it works. HOTTIE HUT illuminates the dark night. I wish I didn’t have to stoop so low to prove myself, but I can’t see another way.