I have a new friend.
Her name is Marlene.
We're coffee buddies.
Probably the most distressing thing I discovered on my first day of work, and there were many, was the fact that no one in this office drinks coffee.
Which means, there is no coffee in this office.
And that just isn't going to fly with me. I'm a caffeine addict and trust me, you don't want to fuck with me if I haven't had my morning fix.
Not only do they not drink it, but they appear to be openly hostile to the very notion of it. I noticed an ancient Mr. Coffee in the kitchen and off handedly mentioned to the office manager I was going to brew a pot. You'd think I just mentioned I was going into the kitchen to cook up a batch of meth by the look she gave me. It didn't matter in the end. The machine was busted.
In my previous life I'd just swing by a Starbucks or Coffee Bean for my morning cup of joe. But in my new, downmarket life that's an unaffordable luxury. No more mochas or soy lattes for me. No, I'd have no choice but to resort to "Plan B".
Gas station coffee.
In the past two weeks, I've sampled them all. Exxon, Shell, Fastrip (a Bakersfield exclusive). And after much deliberation I've finally settled on Chevron. Their coffee isn't much different from the swill all the other ones serve, but they have an outstanding variety of flavored creamers that help disguise the taste and almost make you forget your probably drinking recycled oil from out back.
Which brings us to Marlene.
She works at Chevron. Four A.M. until 1PM, five days a week, for the past seven years.
"It's a living" she'll tell you. Almost every day.
Marlene is a tank of a woman, standing taller than me (and I'm 6'3"). I'm pretty sure she outweighs me. She looks to be mid 50's, but I'm thinking she's younger and just been rode hard. She has a massive pyramid of dirty blond curls resting on her shoulders, which she styles like a standard poodle. Because of the work shirt she thinks I'm a doctor.
I think she has a thing for me.
If there's a line she always opens up a register for me. She's always so happy and pleasant to me.
"How's the wife?" she always asks. Where she got that I have no idea. I think the first time she asked it was to determine whether I was available and when I replied "Great" it burst her balloon a bit. Now she continues to ask just to hide her interest, or to gauge whether there might some day be an opening. Waiting for the day I reply "Not so great, we've separated...". At which point she'll make her move, which is frightening to contemplate.
But all the same, I like Marlene. She always starts my day with a smile.
