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Her daughter doesn’t let go immediately, but with some forceful coaxing, she does.
Thank God.
“It’ll be a few minutes for me to make you another coffee,” the barista says, snapping my attention back to her.
Great.
My luck sucks this morning.
I’m starting to regret my decision to stick around until I got a fresh cup. The other three baristas were hogging everything in sight because each of their customers were on a multi-coffee run of complicated concoctions that could rival the most decadent desserts, which resulted in backlogging my straightforward order.
Lovely.
So now, I’m hustling.
Conscious of the time, I make my way to my meeting—with a fresh extra-large latte in hand—as fast as I can in my high heels, careful not to break my ankles in my haste. The Cedrics, aka Cedric de Seignard shoes, were a good idea this morning, but now, I curse them. On the plus side, I didn’t get a spot of coffee on my suit or on my designer shoes. Thank God for small favors. Although, I’m certain the sweltering heat will cause sweat stains to form under my armpits. I weave through the mob of people heading to work, dropping I’m sorry along the way. The construction crew, heavy machinery, big trucks, and Jersey barriers redirecting traffic are a nuisance. Yeah, the morning commute is a bitch.
Dammit.
I don’t let that deter me. I pick up the pace a little.
When I arrive at my destination, I let out a long breath. I’m cutting it close, but at least I’m not late.
Now isn’t the time to rest on your laurels, Arianne!
Ignoring my achy feet—pounding heart, sweat drizzling down the middle of my back, and the puddle forming inside my bra—I hurry forward and thank my lucky stars when the electronic doors open. Both hands are full. I’m gripping the cup in one and I’m firmly gripping my bag and laptop case in the other. When I arrive at the lobby, I panic. There must be a thousand people waiting to use the elevators.
I can’t be late for this meeting.
There are bodies to my left and bodies to my right, forcing me to move at the same snail’s pace as the crowd.
Shit.
I do a quick mental calculation.
Crap.
The coffee is going to be a liability if I hope to squeeze inside a packed elevator. Staining my suit or my crisp white shirt would be the kiss of death.
“Excuse me,” I say. No one seems to hear me. “Excuse me,” I say louder. “If I could just get through.” A few kind souls get out of the way. I rush towards the sign that says ‘garbage’.
What I’m about to do is sacrilege, but what other choice do I have?
Bye-bye, dark goodness. You’ll be missed.
Resigned, I dump the cup and rush back to the elevators.
After what seems like an eternity, the group of people in front of me moves forward.
Yes!
A few more elevator cars descend to the lobby, and I’m finally able to inch close enough to step into one of them. I let out a relieved breath when I do.
The car is packed, and I’m the last one in.
Of course.
I hold my breath to make it easier to squeeze right in front of the dashboard. As testament to an already frantic morning, I hit the jackpot.
