The following is part of a serialized story, Everyone Thinks I Dream of Chocolate. You can find the first chapter here.
I arrived for my first shift at the chocolate shop that Saturday. There wasn’t anyone around so I waited for a couple of minutes. Old Town was quiet but that wasn’t unusual. I had been there a couple of times with friends or on a date and the activity was always somewhat sparse. This was a part of the charm. It wasn’t busy like commercial malls with their sterile, reflective white with the garish lighting of individual stores reaching out to customers like specters trying to feed on your capital. It wasn’t crowded with families and teenagers in a sea of noises and bodies that overwhelmed.
The floors were made of wood panels with a glossy finish. Despite the reflection of light from against the constantly clean floor, there were bits of dirt and dust, signs of natural age. The ceilings were high yet not obscenely so like a regular mall. The windowed ceiling let in natural light covering everything in an aura of warmth. The entire place was comfortable, cozy, and nostalgic.
“Good, you’re here.”
Dick walked in through the front. At 5ft 4in, Dick’s legs were short and skinny. Yet, he always stood with bent knees that slightly pointed out. It gave him a sturdy stance despite his slightly smaller build as if he was grounded in a way that was prepared for something.
He tossed me an apron. It was burgundy—a color that along with teal, I was getting used to here. Lou’s name was scrawled in the same calligraphic elegance of her signs and business cards. I put it on, getting used to it like a new skin.
“Ok let me walk you through everything. He went over how to use the cash register and various prices.
“The machine calculates the tax but if it reboots, you have to set it up again yourself. You can find the instructions in that cabinet. Remember that if a customer asks for a ribbon, show them the wall and some of the boxes as well. If you can’t find the price, you can look at the price sheet by the register. If you still can’t find it, come ask me, then jot it down on the sheet for the next person. I have to remember to ask Lou to print out an updated sheet anyway.”
Dick listed off responsibilities and protocols as if he was reading them off a corkboard in his mind—one where all the notes were connected by strings of thread by the vaguest of logical connections. I tried to follow all of the threads but he also assured me that I didn’t need to learn everything in a single day.
This was good because my mind drifted for about 30 seconds to the various items out on the tables. Lollipops made from chocolate in the shape of crabs and Natty-Boh guy. These chocolates were sprinkled with red dust that I realized was Maryland’s favorite seasoning, Old Bay. The prices of these items were marked on handwritten cards penned in a combination of markers and glitter pens. They gave small splashes of color to the store like sprinkles on ice cream.
“…And if a customer asks for a bag, there are paper bags with handles down there. Oh and remember that if they ask for an ice cream cone, the price of wafer and waffle cones are different. It’s written on the chalkboard…” Dick continued.
I looked around the shop.
“What ice cream?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s right. Here follow me.”
We walked out of the shop. Ten steps later, I found myself in front of a cafe counter that wrapped around an enclosed area in the shape of an L. One end led directly into the kitchen while the other led to another glass case that held the ice cream.
I was almost taken by surprise because I had never seen anyone working these counters before and always assumed that they were closed for the day or indefinitely. There was glass, refrigerated case but I never saw any food in them and when I looked into the eating area, I never saw anyone sitting there. There wasn’t even a sign with the store’s name.
“Wait, so you guys run both shops?” I asked.
“Yeah. Now, you’re going to have to keep an eye on both. Since it is Saturday, I will be in the back whenever there is a sandwich order, but Becky should be back any second. She went to deliver a sandwich to the art studio lady down the hall.”
“This place serves sandwiches?”
“Grilled cheese, yeah.”
Now that I had taken a closer look, however, I saw that there were some candies on the counter in glass jars. Behind the counter, there were more obvious signs of habitation. Facing the opposite wall was a cash register, napkins, containers with plastic utensils, and a soda machine.
Then, I saw a girl walking down the hall carrying a small red cafeteria tray. She was about 5ft 2in, with straight brown hair tied in a ponytail. She had a pleasant face with round cheeks. Her stomach protruded, out of place with the rest of her build. It was somewhat masked by her apron.
“There you are,” Dick said. “Becky, this is Mouse. He’s going to start today.”
“Nice to meet you.” She gave me a pleasant smile, which I needed. It was my first job out of college and I was a bit nervous. She had a calmer presence that balanced Dick’s intensity. We shook hands.
“Ok great,” Dick said. “I still have several things to figure out in the back. Becky, help him figure things out while I get ready for the lunch rush.”
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2. My Resume Was A Sticky Note
Danger Wonka 