CHAPTER TEN
“Izzy! Go home!” Clyde says, clapping me on the shoulder and taking my order pad out of my hands.
“What? Why? Are you firing me? Is this about the coffee filters? I had no idea the box was going to fall apart like that, and I swear only ten of them were damaged. The rest are totally fine!”
My words come out on a rushed exhale of anxious breath and my heart is beating so fast that for a second my vision goes blurry.
It’s been a rough week. On Monday I messed up an order of burgers for a table of vegans who looked like they wanted to forgo their pacifist leanings and kill me with their butterknives when I put meat in front of them. Wednesday, I dropped a box of two hundred coffee filters all over the kitchen floor, which thankfully I had cleaned an hour before, so most were saved due to lack of dust and grime.
And today I broke not one, not two, but four mugs in a thirty-minute period while filling coffees.