It's all about the coffee!

This is just my little ode to the joys of coffeemaking. Cafe Nasty actually has two locations in our small town. One has been in existence for almost 15 years, while the other opened just this summer. The staff is trained to work at both stores. There isn't much of a difference between them, product-wise or anything. The main difference is that the new cafe is a lot smaller and serves a little bit more food and shit. The other, smaller difference is that I hate working at the new Cafe Nasty. This is because I thrive off of the hectic energy of original Nasty. It's quite big for a coffee shop, it seats a shitload of over-pampered snobs and students. It's constantly abuzz with that delightful energy of a well-functioning little business. The new store, because it is so amall and has no indoor seating, has a smaller number of people on every shift. For many reasons, I think this sucks. I'm sure I'll be able to explore those sentiments in depth at a later date. Right now, I'm just bitching because of the lack of contact I have with the espresso machine at the new store. It drives me bonkers!
I live to be close to that steaming hunk of metal (well, not really I guess, but sort of). I get a thrill each time I dose out some of that finely ground pixie dust with it's sweet aroma and dark chocolate. Coffee is life. It is luscious and provides such marvelous instant gratification that only a shot of heroin or an orgasm can match.
And what do I do at the new Nasty? I serve angry mothers and their chocolate-faced offspring bowls of chili and egg sandwiches and all that garbage. No one comes there for the delicious espresso. No way. So I am obviously embittered about having been put in exile over at that stinking place. Fortunately, at this very moment I'm about to begin a shift at the original Nasty, and I have hours of espresso making to look forward to. Joy to the world!