True to his word, people started to show up the next day for interviews around ten in the morning.

This was slightly inconvenient, as Susannah needed to serve customers at that time. Giving an interview while taking an order, or making coffee, wasn’t fun.

“So, Arksdon, have you ever worked in a café?”

“No.”

“Do you have much experience in a kitchen?”

“No.”

The man she was currently interviewing, the ninth candidate so far, had answered all of her increasingly ungentle queries with one word answers. This was not a man meant for customer service. This was also, she was thinking, not a man who knew how to bake, or even follow a recipe.

“Do you even want to be here?”

“Maybe.”

What kind of answer was that?

“I think this interview is done. Unfortunately, you don’t have the… attitude I’m looking for in an employee.”

“Okay.” He stood, lifted his suitcase, and left, knocking shoulders with someone as they came in.

The new person made straight for the counter.

“Do you have razz pastries?”

“Yes, I do.” She pointed them out in the case. The customer made no further overtures to order, and instead stood there, scrutinizing them.

Someone new came in. They were wearing a suit. It looked off the rack, but the person wearing it also looked off the rack, like the beings of the universe decided that this person’s sole character trait was being in the background of a spy movie.

“This is not an interview for an office job, is it?”

“Uh, no, it’s not.”

“Curse you, Karulk.”

The person nodded and left immediately. The customer did not look up. They were staring at her pies, now.

Susannah wondered what Karulk told these people who were showing up. Or if they were being blackmailed. She wouldn’t put it past him, blackmailing someone into being polite. He gave off that sort of feeling.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The customer hummed. “Do you have any… jello?”

“No.” Someone in Swamptown would never have asked after jello. The texture was too similar to the native slimes and oozes. “If it’s a texture you're after, sir, we have a coffee menu hanging above me. Drinks can be similar to jello.” This was a very bad lie, but people are dumb, so he’ll probably nod and agree.

He nodded and agreed. “Just so.”

Her entrance bell tinkled.

The person who came in was dressed like a beekeeper and had a bird on their shoulder. They took a quick look around, (Susannah could tell because their head moved, the veil was too thick to see a face,) then turned and left.

“Do you have muffins?”

“Yes, right here.”

Another person came in. He was short. Not in the natural way of people who just weren’t tall, but a weird stumpiness was in his stature, a strange, shriveled aura about his limbs.

He had peachy skin and a onesie. That is, he was carrying a onesie folded over one arm. He was wearing purple, silken robes. They dragged on the ground behind him. Held in one hand was a carved wooden staff.

Susannah desperately wished she knew what she had agreed to yesterday. This was getting ridiculous.

“This does not look like the association meeting,” The newcomer remarked.

“It’s not. Did Karulk send you?”

“Who? Oh, that old laddie. He did not. No, no, I must’ve gotten turned around somewhere.” His voice was very high pitched. “My name’s Aond. Aames Aond. Professional wizard. Nice to meet you.” He pronounced Aames as Ay-aims.

As he got closer Susannah could see that the white beard was fake. She decided not to ask. “Susannah Blitzar. I own this place. Are you going to buy something?”

He peered at her menu. “Maybe in a few days. I have a meeting I need to get to. Farewell.” The wizard departed with a cheery wave and a flashy vanishing spell that transported him just in front of her door, despite only being a few steps inside her establishment.

She watched him walk away through the windows.

Some people don’t have the sense even dogs held leftover from domestication, and those people became wizards.

Susannah eyed her slow customer. They hadn’t reacted to that little exchange at all, not even to turn around and look. “You doing okay buddy?”

“Yeah… I don’t think I want anything, after all.”

“I– what?” And then the customer turned around and left. Susannah stared after him, gobsmacked. What on the planet was that about?

As he went by another person tried to come through the door. They accidentally brushed shoulders. The would-have-been customer directed a glare at the new person, who valiantly ignored it.

“Hi. I’m here for a job interview?”

“If it’s an interview for a position at a café, then you’re in the right place.”

“Yup, that’s me.” He hurried forward. Susannah inspected him.

Susannah was at that age where anyone under the age of twenty-five was a kid. This lanky mess of tallness and shy smiles was clearly an awkward kid. He looked about ready to break into a nervous sweat, which Susannah could relate to. On that alone, she liked him.

He had fine, blond hair the color of gold, and bright blue eyes. He was wearing a bright blue cardigan and gray slacks. A navy blue scarf was wrapped around his throat. He had nice, well worn black boots.

In short, he dressed like a twink.

“My name is Charmony Dearnest. I, uh, can work? I mean, obviously, that’s why I’m here, but, like–”

“You’re hired.” This was going to go not terribly, Susannah could already tell.