Barrista Beau

The beau is a fan of Starbucks. He had his shot of Statbucks coffee every other days and he'd spend the weekend afternoon or evening online at Starbucks if not at the gym. Seldom would you find us dancing away in Marketplace or Frangipani though I very much would love to go sometimes.

So there was this other day when we were talking about switching jobs. I mean, well things aren't really going that all well for us now other than our relationships. I was pretty depressed with work still, and he's getting bored at what he's doing now too.

I told him I would love to do something that wouldn't require me to think so much, maybe waiter or air hostess or massage boy or I don't know, maybe travel guide?

But I must've triggered some annoying button when he snapped at me, "Why not those toll boy at the toll plaza? Everyday you just need to sit there and collect money."

As easy as it sound, I still want to do something more... erm, classy perhaps?

Okay, call me vain. I'm a vain queer.

Considering the path I'm taking now would probably land me on some realllllllyyyy green posture once I got promoted (like how everyone would do subsequently), I have this habit of differentiating a proffesional job and a not-so proffesionaly job. So when the thoughts of switching job comes in mind where I'd really love to quit white-collar career, I crushed my brain juice to think of something that still allows me to wear nice clothes and work in an air-conditioned place. I know I know, it's shallow of me to think like that. But lazy arses like myself, there's always day-dreaming where I wished to work easy and live my life easy.

Rather than the highly-stressed office that I have to go to everyday now, I fantasized of something more relaxing. That was when I saw the cute barrista at the counter and "What about barrista?" was blurted out spontaneously.

The beau looked at me in disbelieve and gave me a long lecture of how long and how hard I've strived before to get to where I am now and that I shouldn't even think about giving up and what nots shits. Yet, he turned the table around and told me, maybe I should apply to be one. "Yeah! I shall send in my application tomorrow."

To my horror!

Now back to the vain part. I dreamt of becoming a successful working queer and I of course hope that whoever my boyfriend is would be too. And in this case, the beau has some qualification that landed him some career with comfortable income as well. So when his thoughts started to drift towards the laziness of mine (speaking about duplicating the beau), he's gotten all this thoughts of wanting to do some easy job that doesn't require much innovation too!

I straight away snapped at him, "You're overqualified."

"Not if I'm a manager."

"But you don't have the money to start your own branch."

"You could always chip in."

And that was when our frequency of thoughts somehow falls into the same level!

"Our own Starbucks!" I smiled widely.

But he slapped me, literally. "Stop dreaming boy. Work on your coming exam and make sure you pass that one so that I could take you to some secluded paradise for all-day-long fucking."

Boo-hoo!