Chapter 2
Right as the last bean was being vacuumed out of the last espresso machine two baristas came to Scrooge while he sat timing the close. Scrooge was not scheduled to work, but he lived according to the philosophy, “with great accountability comes great success,” and so he upheld his business standards.
The first barista to open his mouth was Bob Crachett, “Excuse me, Mr. Scrooge?”
“What?” came the reply.
“Excuse me, sir, but I have been getting many text messages and calls from the baristas and they wanted to know if we could…ahh…”
“Yes?”
“Close tomorrow.”
“CLOSE?!!! Tomorrow?!”
“Uhh, yes, sir. After all, tomorrow is Christmas.”
“Tell me, Bob, do you need this job?”
“Actually, sir, yes I do. I need it to feed my family.”
“Keep that in mind then, Bob Crachett. Don’t let these foolish baristas influence you. No! We shall be open tomorrow AS USUAL! I say HUMBUG to Christmas. There are many coffee drinkers who do not take a holiday for Christmas. Where will the Jewish customer go? The Kwanza-celebrating consumer? The dedicated business man?! We must be ready to serve them…and take their money.” With this, Scrooge looked down at his watch and documented the hour. The closing baristas had two minutes before they would be over their allotted time.
“But, Mr. Scrooge, sir, can we not even close early?”
“This is too much! Bob, why don’t you send out a mass text to all your barista-friends and ask them how they would like to spend their Christmas on the UNEMPLOYMENT LINE?”
At the thought of such an idea the barista who had entered the room with Bob began to cry.
“Please, Mr. Scrooge! Don’t do such a thing to us – right before Christmas!”
“Stop blubbering, Jennifer, or else I just might.”
Bob tried to regain control of the conversation, “Mr. Scrooge, I would like you to consider that while many of those people groups you mentioned will like the idea that we are open all day tomorrow, may I also have you consider that business will be slower. To use the electricity from the lights and heating may be wasteful and cut down on your profits.”
“Yes?”
“May I then propose opening later and closing sooner?”
“Bob, the coffee drinkers of this world expect coffee even on days given as holidays.”
“But sir, even the dedicated business men will not be able to deal with many of their national and international counterparts because it’s Christmas. Certainly, they won’t come in until the middle of the day. They would understand your shrewd business dealings in saving money if you opened with shorter hours in order to serve fewer people. Please, sir, all scheduled openers will come no later than 8am and all closers will leave no earlier than 6pm.”
“Bob Cratchett, you know we have worked many years together. You know how I value your skills and insights as a barista as well as a shift manager, but this may be the last bitter espresso shot you serve me. I don’t know that I can take anymore.”
“Sir?”
Scrooge looked down at his watch. Their time was up. He should hear no more water running, but only the running of their feet to sign off using the computer’s time clock. He did not hear their running feet and rose to discover the reason.
Turning to the anxious baristas before him Scrooge replied, “Send a text message to all those lazy baristas and tell them --- we will open at 7:30am and we will close at 7pm. No later and no earlier, Bob. You and your children will need to exercise patience in opening presents and eating Christmas dinner.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, sir.” squeaked Jennifer.
With that, Alexander Scrooge brushed past them in search of his two closing baristas.
“Yay, Bob! Thank you so much.”
“Well, it’s not actually what we were asking for, but we got somewhere and we still have our jobs.”
Jennifer grabbed her coat, purse, and gloves and put them on while walking to the door. “Well, I’m going home to celebrate the good news, merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas, Jennifer.” Slowly, Bob grabbed his hat and coat and walked toward the door. He looked back to see his manager reprimanding the closing baristas. They were two minutes late in their closing time. Bob had warned them about their speed, but they hadn’t listened. He took time to look into the eyes of Alexander Scrooge. What a puzzle of a man! Could there be any as hard-hearted as he? If his own nephew were dying, for a nephew was the only relative of whom he could boast, would Alex leave work to help him? Bob wasn’t sure and didn’t take too much longer in wondering; his phone began to buzz and it removed him from his solitary reverie.
He looked at the caller I.D. and smiled. It was his youngest son.
“Hello Tim, I am just leaving from talking with Mr. Scrooge, are you guys still arranging the Christmas baskets at church?”
“Well, we’re just working on the last ones. Mom wanted me to call you and let you know that you should get me from the church and she’ll take everyone else home early so they can get our Christmas Eve celebration ready.”
“All right, Tim, thank you. I will see you in about 10 minutes.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, son. See you when I get there.”
The night was cold and clear. As Bob drove to the church he tried hard not to complain about his broken radiator and the lack of heat he was feeling as a result. Instead, he focused his attention on the stars shining above his head. They were magnificent.
“How amazing that the same God who created those stars also allowed Himself to be born as a baby in a stable.”
Rubbing his fingers together, Bob smiled and thanked the Lord for such a night and prayed for the Christmas Eves and Christmas days of his fellow co-workers and especially of his boss, Mr. Alexander Scrooge.
While Bob was lifting his prayers to the heavens, Alexander Scrooge was locking the doors of the Starbucks building behind him. Suddenly, Scrooge felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see who it was.
“Hello, uncle!”
It was it was Ryan Reeves, Scrooge’s nephew. Every year he would come to Starbucks on Christmas Eve in order to invite his uncle to Christmas dinner.
“HUMBUG, boy! You shouldn’t bother to come here at such a late hour.”
“Well Uncle Alex I came to wish you a merry Christmas and to invite you to our Christmas celebration tomorrow.”
“Bah! All this talk about Christmas merriment, it’s a waste of time, money, and emotion. Foolish! Out of my way Ryan, you take your Christmas cheer and I will take my practicality.”
“Uncle! You cannot be so horribly sinister. While Christmas may never have put another dollar in my pocket I believe it has done me good and will do me good, and I should think it could do you some good too. Why not come to our dinner tomorrow night? Come enjoy your day with friends!”
“Friends?! Humbug! I would much rather see those who wish ‘merry Christmases’ stuffed with their own corn pudding, baked with their own glaze, and buried with their own holly sprig jabbed in their heart.”
“How entirely morbid and dreadful. I know you don’t mean it, but I also see that you are too stubborn to be changed in your thinking. Ahh well, I am glad I tried. I will miss you, uncle. Merry Christmas.”
“Humbug!”
Ryan left and so did all the warmth and happiness. He left Scrooge alone and without joy, but Scrooge did not care. He used no more thoughts on Ryan. He was more preoccupied with the night. Alex hated leaving the store on Christmas Eve. It always gave him an eerie feeling that something was not right. Perhaps it was because of the memories he had of his friends, Bob and Barb Marley. They opened Starbucks extra early on Christmas and so slept in the backroom to make sure they had a perfect close and a perfect open.
Scrooge had tried that some years before, but found it to be a great waste of his time and resources. He knew that Bob Cratchett was right; few customers came into Starbucks at such an early hour on Christmas.
Right as the last bean was being vacuumed out of the last espresso machine two baristas came to Scrooge while he sat timing the close. Scrooge was not scheduled to work, but he lived according to the philosophy, “with great accountability comes great success,” and so he upheld his business standards.
The first barista to open his mouth was Bob Crachett, “Excuse me, Mr. Scrooge?”
“What?” came the reply.
“Excuse me, sir, but I have been getting many text messages and calls from the baristas and they wanted to know if we could…ahh…”
“Yes?”
“Close tomorrow.”
“CLOSE?!!! Tomorrow?!”
“Uhh, yes, sir. After all, tomorrow is Christmas.”
“Tell me, Bob, do you need this job?”
“Actually, sir, yes I do. I need it to feed my family.”
“Keep that in mind then, Bob Crachett. Don’t let these foolish baristas influence you. No! We shall be open tomorrow AS USUAL! I say HUMBUG to Christmas. There are many coffee drinkers who do not take a holiday for Christmas. Where will the Jewish customer go? The Kwanza-celebrating consumer? The dedicated business man?! We must be ready to serve them…and take their money.” With this, Scrooge looked down at his watch and documented the hour. The closing baristas had two minutes before they would be over their allotted time.
“But, Mr. Scrooge, sir, can we not even close early?”
“This is too much! Bob, why don’t you send out a mass text to all your barista-friends and ask them how they would like to spend their Christmas on the UNEMPLOYMENT LINE?”
At the thought of such an idea the barista who had entered the room with Bob began to cry.
“Please, Mr. Scrooge! Don’t do such a thing to us – right before Christmas!”
“Stop blubbering, Jennifer, or else I just might.”
Bob tried to regain control of the conversation, “Mr. Scrooge, I would like you to consider that while many of those people groups you mentioned will like the idea that we are open all day tomorrow, may I also have you consider that business will be slower. To use the electricity from the lights and heating may be wasteful and cut down on your profits.”
“Yes?”
“May I then propose opening later and closing sooner?”
“Bob, the coffee drinkers of this world expect coffee even on days given as holidays.”
“But sir, even the dedicated business men will not be able to deal with many of their national and international counterparts because it’s Christmas. Certainly, they won’t come in until the middle of the day. They would understand your shrewd business dealings in saving money if you opened with shorter hours in order to serve fewer people. Please, sir, all scheduled openers will come no later than 8am and all closers will leave no earlier than 6pm.”
“Bob Cratchett, you know we have worked many years together. You know how I value your skills and insights as a barista as well as a shift manager, but this may be the last bitter espresso shot you serve me. I don’t know that I can take anymore.”
“Sir?”
Scrooge looked down at his watch. Their time was up. He should hear no more water running, but only the running of their feet to sign off using the computer’s time clock. He did not hear their running feet and rose to discover the reason.
Turning to the anxious baristas before him Scrooge replied, “Send a text message to all those lazy baristas and tell them --- we will open at 7:30am and we will close at 7pm. No later and no earlier, Bob. You and your children will need to exercise patience in opening presents and eating Christmas dinner.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, sir.” squeaked Jennifer.
With that, Alexander Scrooge brushed past them in search of his two closing baristas.
“Yay, Bob! Thank you so much.”
“Well, it’s not actually what we were asking for, but we got somewhere and we still have our jobs.”
Jennifer grabbed her coat, purse, and gloves and put them on while walking to the door. “Well, I’m going home to celebrate the good news, merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas, Jennifer.” Slowly, Bob grabbed his hat and coat and walked toward the door. He looked back to see his manager reprimanding the closing baristas. They were two minutes late in their closing time. Bob had warned them about their speed, but they hadn’t listened. He took time to look into the eyes of Alexander Scrooge. What a puzzle of a man! Could there be any as hard-hearted as he? If his own nephew were dying, for a nephew was the only relative of whom he could boast, would Alex leave work to help him? Bob wasn’t sure and didn’t take too much longer in wondering; his phone began to buzz and it removed him from his solitary reverie.
He looked at the caller I.D. and smiled. It was his youngest son.
“Hello Tim, I am just leaving from talking with Mr. Scrooge, are you guys still arranging the Christmas baskets at church?”
“Well, we’re just working on the last ones. Mom wanted me to call you and let you know that you should get me from the church and she’ll take everyone else home early so they can get our Christmas Eve celebration ready.”
“All right, Tim, thank you. I will see you in about 10 minutes.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, son. See you when I get there.”
The night was cold and clear. As Bob drove to the church he tried hard not to complain about his broken radiator and the lack of heat he was feeling as a result. Instead, he focused his attention on the stars shining above his head. They were magnificent.
“How amazing that the same God who created those stars also allowed Himself to be born as a baby in a stable.”
Rubbing his fingers together, Bob smiled and thanked the Lord for such a night and prayed for the Christmas Eves and Christmas days of his fellow co-workers and especially of his boss, Mr. Alexander Scrooge.
While Bob was lifting his prayers to the heavens, Alexander Scrooge was locking the doors of the Starbucks building behind him. Suddenly, Scrooge felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see who it was.
“Hello, uncle!”
It was it was Ryan Reeves, Scrooge’s nephew. Every year he would come to Starbucks on Christmas Eve in order to invite his uncle to Christmas dinner.
“HUMBUG, boy! You shouldn’t bother to come here at such a late hour.”
“Well Uncle Alex I came to wish you a merry Christmas and to invite you to our Christmas celebration tomorrow.”
“Bah! All this talk about Christmas merriment, it’s a waste of time, money, and emotion. Foolish! Out of my way Ryan, you take your Christmas cheer and I will take my practicality.”
“Uncle! You cannot be so horribly sinister. While Christmas may never have put another dollar in my pocket I believe it has done me good and will do me good, and I should think it could do you some good too. Why not come to our dinner tomorrow night? Come enjoy your day with friends!”
“Friends?! Humbug! I would much rather see those who wish ‘merry Christmases’ stuffed with their own corn pudding, baked with their own glaze, and buried with their own holly sprig jabbed in their heart.”
“How entirely morbid and dreadful. I know you don’t mean it, but I also see that you are too stubborn to be changed in your thinking. Ahh well, I am glad I tried. I will miss you, uncle. Merry Christmas.”
“Humbug!”
Ryan left and so did all the warmth and happiness. He left Scrooge alone and without joy, but Scrooge did not care. He used no more thoughts on Ryan. He was more preoccupied with the night. Alex hated leaving the store on Christmas Eve. It always gave him an eerie feeling that something was not right. Perhaps it was because of the memories he had of his friends, Bob and Barb Marley. They opened Starbucks extra early on Christmas and so slept in the backroom to make sure they had a perfect close and a perfect open.
Scrooge had tried that some years before, but found it to be a great waste of his time and resources. He knew that Bob Cratchett was right; few customers came into Starbucks at such an early hour on Christmas.
