A Co-worker Conflict

The alarm clock rang, and Irene bolted upright in bed as one hand reached to shut it off, and the other rubbed her eyes. Without checking the time, she already knew it was just past daybreak; she woke up at the same time every morning. She kicked her Totoro slippers(a birthday gift from Wendy), from under the bed and slid them on, swinging on leg over the other. Irene stretched on her way to the washroom, groaning at the residual soreness in her limbs, still aching from yesterday’s line of work.

The door rattled slightly against the frame, and she grumbled a curse, crossing her fingers. Joy was such a light sleeper, and she hoped it wouldn’t wake her up. Irene felt sorry for the girl; she had been staying up all night all week just to finish her commissions and it looked like the budding poet needed some rest. Yes, Joy was a poet; one that worked around the clock, or whenever she felt like it. Her work practically exuded artistry. Irene ran her hands under the bath faucet; the temperature was ice-cold as expected. She checked herself out in the mirror as she waited for the water to warm up.

As soon as she stepped inside, the shower fogged up, and she let the water run in cool rivulets down her back; the torrents soaked her hair and skin with with a soothing pulsation. Scrubbing her favourite shampoo between her hands(it was watermelon scented, and shimmery pink), Irene worked it up into a foamy lather, piling up the bubbles on her head. She inhaled deeply and the summery fragrance filled the washroom.

Unintentionally, Irene found herself humming Red Flavour, and she reached for the bar of grapefruit soap, turning up the water to drown out her singing. Once the suds had been washed clean from her body, she cranked the handle down with an unpleasant creak and stepped out the shower, wrapping herself in a fluffy pink bathrobe.

Her hair got a quick blow dry and she threw on her work outfit.

A billowy white blouse with a high neckline, pearly snap buttons, and a ribbon around the ruffled collar.
Fitted dress pants-black, that went down to her mid calves.
Plain work loafers over white socks.

Irene didn’t bother to put on too much makeup; people were always telling her she didn’t need it, and her reply would be to smile back politely. Unless if you were male, in which she would tell the offending prick to back off.

Taking a few seconds out of her day to pack Yeri’s lunch, Irene carefully wrapped a turkey-cheese sandwich, and tossed together a fruit cup, a juice box, and a sack of Goldfish crackers. When she was ready to leave, she slung her trench coat over one shoulder, and a canvas bag over the other. Once again, she shut the door as gently as she could, and took the elevator downstairs.

Usually, if not always, the morning shift was hers. Her master key(the one painted with glitter peach nail polish), hung around her neck. There was a touchpad at the front of the cafe, but Irene had forgotten the passcode long ago, and this was just easier. Without exception, she arrived first, followed by Minseok, and finally, Sunny would show up to make them all breakfast and officially start the workday.

The sky was more orange than blue, and not being one to take chances, Irene took the main path towards the cafe, so she could be seen visibly under the streetlight. More than once, she had narrowly avoided a few advances. A lesson had been learned, which caused her to carry pepper spray in her bag as an extra safety precaution.

She unwound the lanyard and shoved the key into the lock, twisting it as hard as she could. The door sprang free with a click, bathing the inside of the cafe in an eerie dark light. Tentatively, Irene took her first steps into the pitch-black dining area, feeling around for the light switch. Her fingers closed around the dimmer, and she breathed a sigh of relief, shielding her eyes from the sudden burst of light.

Irene wrapped her hands around her bag, and walked to the back, ditching her stuff in one of the allotted metal storage lockers. She opened one and wrinkled her nose at the smell of cologne. The offender appeared to be a grey letterman jacket, several sizes too big to be Sunny or Minseok’s. In fact, the three of them could have probably worn it all at once, and comfortably too. Irene thought it was odd, but didn’t think too much of it. Her bag and coat went into the bottom locker, and she went to the front to retrieve her apron from under the counter. It smelled like green apple Lysol, and she unrolled the fabric-tying it around her waist, and quickly scooping her hair from under the neck strap. There wasn’t much to do after; she could only stand around and wait for the other baristas to file in.

Her elbow brushed against a crusty part on her apron and she made a face. Irene shuffled to the kitchen, and bent over the sink, dripping cold water on the dirtied spot. The crusty beige disappeared, and she dabbed the cotton fabric with a paper towel to dry it off. There was something off about today, that seemed to send her intuition into overdrive. It wasn’t just the smelly jacket, or the heavy odor of body spray, but she felt like she was being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck even prickled, which was not a good sign. Each clack of her loafers on the white tile sent shivers up her spine. She grabbed a stool and sat behind the counter, turning around periodically to make sure no one was behind her, or in front of her, or anywhere near her.

Irene glanced suspiciously at her feet, and her eyes suddenly widened as a broad shadow flickered across the ground. Her heart skipped a beat, and she took a shallow breath.

Where was her damn pepper spray when she needed it? The locker was too noisy to open, but what if the intruder had a knife, or a gun, or worse? She was too young to die, and how would Yeri and Joy fare without her? A few more rustling sounds came from behind, and Irene put her thoughts on hold to conjure the nearest weapon-esque thing-a plastic pen from her left pocket. Clutching it tightly in her fist, she tiptoed towards the coffee grinder, and past the oven.

The shadow grew larger, and footsteps echoed throughout the kitchen. Irene tensed up her shoulders, and poked her head around the sink. A dark figure passed the corner of the room, where the refrigerator met the industrial size dishwasher, and obscured the only exit.

Irene held the pen like a dagger in her hand. The intruder stopped, snorted, and poked their head around the sink.

“What are you doing?”

The pen clattered to the ground, and her foot retracted, hitting the invader straight in the jaw. The man-(it was a man, right?), went flying back, and his head clipped the cupboards. He slunk down to the floor limply, groaning. Irene let out a guttural scream and grabbed the paring knife off the tiled wall.

Looking downwards, she could see that he frankly, wasn’t a man at all. He looked about Yeri’s age. The strange combination of his severe eyebrows and jutting chin made him impossibly handsome, something Irene would have noticed, if she weren’t too busy holding a blade towards him in self-defense. As he stood up to his full height, he towered past her, and the top of her head barely came up to his shoulders. A tiny apron hung lopsidedly from his broad frame, and Irene’s nose twitched.

“What the hell?” he screamed, his voice slightly cracking in the way that only teenage boys could procure.

You er, Irene thought. The front of his apron was embroidered with white lettering-EXODUS, in fact, and she set the weapon down, managing one of her menacing glares.

“Why is there a knife?! Are you going to kill me?! I’m simply trying to show up to my first day of work, and this happens! Why is my life such bull?!” The boy, with the body of a man, was freaking out, throwing his arms up and crying out to no one in his obnoxiously whiny voice.

Irene growled, and the teenager pounded his fist into the wall, droning on and on about his struggles. She had thought that his brood-the angsty loser types, had died out long ago, but who knew? She herself was only 21; she had last been in high-school four years ago, and somehow, the idiots were still reproducing. Obviously, she had misjudged. He wasn’t a threat at all, and she replaced the knife.

“And really?! Attacked at knifepoint on my first day?! By a girl?!” He facepalmed, and kicked the wall with one of his dirted Vans; yellow, with unflattering shark teeth on the sides. She couldn’t say the same for his face, but his hair was ugly with a capital “u”. It was gaudy rainbow, like Fruity Pebbles, but somehow muddier and combed into a fringe. For god’s sake, he looked like the son of a K-pop idol, and 6ix9ine.

The little brass bell clinked, and Irene hadn’t been happier in a whole week. Minseok, looking unbearably pleasant like the morning person he always was, unwound his scarf and raised his eyebrows.

“And why do all my friends have good jobs, while I’m stuck here, about to be making coffee. I thought I’d get a free breakfast, not a brush with death!” The teenage boy wailed, reminding her a lot of Jongdae.

“Who’s this?” Minseok asked, taking off his bomber jacket, and raising an eyebrow. Irene got up, and handed him his apron, which he took graciously.

“Her?” The boy looked up, and widened his eyes. “The hoe’s bat crazy!”

“Watch it!” Irene snarled. “I came to work as usual, and he snuck up on me. I was merely defending myself.”

“Sorry, what?” Minseok raised, then lowered his eyebrows. He joined her behind the counter, still keeping an eye on the rando attacking the kitchen wall.

“I grabbed a knife, and I almost stabbed him,” Irene said, casually. She blew a lock of hair from her face.

“Why does he have an apron? And do we even know him?”

“I sure as hell ain’t talking to anybody who looks like that!”

The boy turned around and blew a raspberry. She returned it, and sulked.

🖋🖋🖋

Sunny flung open the door with a bright smile. “Good morning! I see you’ve all made yourselves acquaintanced!”

“Don’t kick the kitchen wall,” she told the boy, whom she passed on her way to the storage lockers. Sunny tossed in her purse, and ed her coat, humming cheerily under her breath. Minseok and Irene simply stared, slack-jawed as they watched their boss skip circles around the grumbling teen, completely unfazed by the presence of a total stranger.

“Did everyone sleep okay? You guys look really nasty.” Breakfast today was waffles, with copious amounts of cream and apricot jam. Sunny even waved over the boy to eat with them.

“What are you doing?” Irene hissed, holding up her waffle to .

“Serving breakfast.”

Minseok shook his head. “Why is there a stranger here? We don’t know him-”

“Really?” Sunny reached into her pocket, and pulled out a tiny metal nameplate. “Silly me.” She turned towards the rainbow boy, and handed him the nametag.

“Everyone, this is Sehun. Oh Sehun, or Sehun Oh, whatever you want to call him. He’s your new co-worker.”

🌈🌈🌈

According to Seulgi, some personalities just didn’t click. Sehun and Irene were a textbook example.

On Monday, he had spilled a whole cup of scalding hot chocolate over the front of her shirt. Thankfully, her chest had only sustained minor injuries, but when Irene complained about the unsightly brown stain that covered half of her favourite blouse, Sehun laughed in her face and stormed off.

And on Tuesday, there was that whole commotion over the bagels.

“I’m here for my free bagels.”

“Free?” Sehun raised a bold eyebrow. “We don’t give out anything for free. According to my boss, Sunny-”

“Shut it, Sehun.” Irene pushed him aside. “The deal’s over, Jongdae.”

“What?” Jongdae sputtered and crossed his arms. “But I’m still bogged down by Yeri. I still have to walk her home everyday!”

“And she’s not dead yet. I thank you for that, but if you don’t remember, the deal was a month long. It’s the goddamn third month.”

“What do you mean? I haven’t even had breakfast! This is the only thing I eat everyday besides Frosted Flakes!”

“She means,” Sehun stepped in front of Irene, blocking her tiny frame with his own large stature, “that you pay, or you leave.”

“B-but I’m literally living in poverty! I’ve had to cut down my toilet paper use by half!”

“Sorry, and thank you,” Irene replied, wrinkling her nose.

“Now, I only wipe twice instead of four times!”

“GET OUT!” Sehun boomed, pointing a finger towards the entrance.

“I want my bagels!” Jongdae stamped his foot, yelling at the top of his lungs. In response, Sehun simply grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and dragged him towards the exit.

“Hey!” Irene shouted, running after them. She wrested them apart, and panted fiercely, pointing a finger in Mr. Rainbow Hair’s uncomfortably photogenic face. “What the do you think you’re doing?!” She sounded terrifying.

“I’m getting this loser out of here.”

Irene’s eyes burned with anger. Who did he think he was? The employee of the century? A nightclub bouncer?

Stupid , she thought.

“He’s not a loser. Don’t speak to my friends that way.” She took another step, deliberately challenging him. Jongdae slunk back, and Sehun shoved him forwards.

“Don’t touch him,” Irene said again, plainly. “Or I’ll kick your ing .” She her heel, leaving the two boys.

When Sunny was around, Sehun was the -kisser of the century, scrubbing toilets, pouring coffees, and being the model of customer service. When she was gone, he turned into a little demon. If he wasn’t lazing around, he would be relentlessly trying to make Irene’s life a living hell.

She didn’t understand; even the regular patrons of the cafe(like the old couple that lived across the street, or the young blogger with the green streak in his hair), found him charismatic, and he seemed to click with everyone. Even Minseok had warmed up to him, and they were on good terms.

“She even looks like a ,” Sehun whispered to Minseok, when they were working the night shift. They were loading the dishwasher together; Irene and Sunny had already checked out and both went home early.

“Her? Trust me, she’s a good person, and really nice. You’ll just have to get her to warm up to you a bit. Maybe you two could get closer.”

“Closer? I’m not getting any closer to her.”

“Closer? I’m not getting any closer to him.” Irene laughed off the suggestion as Minseok stood beside her; they were dutifully grinding coffee beans during their shared morning shift-thankfully, Sehun the anti-christ didn’t work when he had school.

Unfortunately, as she had learned, he went to the same high school as Yeri; they even shared a math class, and even according to her sister, he was loud and sassy but not all that bad.

“Have you smelled the dollar-store body spray that he wears? I don’t think any girls come up to him, let alone boys.”

“I feel like if we were all friends, work would be a lot easier,” Minseok chimed, rotating the handle to crush the fragrant beans.

“Seulgi’s right, some people just can’t get along. Like you and Jongdae. You two get along great-Sehun and I, not so much.”

“W-what?” Minseok half-asked, half-grumbled. His cheeks pinked.

“I just really ing hate Sehun, okay?”

“She seems like she’s perpetually on her period, or something.”

“And his god-awful hair, too! It’s like he went to the hairdresser, couldn’t decide, and just got them all. It looks like a Pinterest craft gone wrong.”

“She looks like a piece of plastic. Zero personality, you know what I mean?”

“I don’t listen to what he says at all because I respect myself. He’s ing obnoxious.”

By the time Thursday rolled around, they hadn’t spoken at all, and were dancing light steps around each other. Irene wouldn’t even look in the same direction as him, and Sehun would go out of his way to be annoying under the table. It was the subtle things, like flipping her off behind her back, or standing on his toes to poke fun at her lack of impressive height.

Irene had had enough, so at breakfast time, she didn’t even think. She asked Minseok for the saltshaker, and he watched with a thin-lipped smile as she tipped half the salt(meant for the poached eggs)into Sehun’s beloved hot chocolate-the powdered kind that he drank at every sitting.

She smiled innocently; Jongdae had played the very same prank on her, and she watched as he downed half the drink in one gulp-and it sprayed out of his mouth, dripping across the floor. Minseok pulled his collar up to his nose; he knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he did anyways.

Immediately, Sehun’s expression twisted into a mask of fury, and he grabbed Irene by the shoulders, slamming her into the wall.

“You ing !” he said, voice-cracking on every syllable. She kneed him and he went stumbling back, letting out a guttural cry.

“What is going on?!” Sunny demanded, storming from the kitchen and waving her spatula angrily in the air.

“She poisoned me!”

“He attacked me! He’s been nothing but a pain-in the to me this whole week!”

“She’s the one who started it all! If she hadn’t pointed a knife at me-”

“ENOUGH!” Sunny demanded, rubbing her temples. “You two are coworkers! Do you know what that means?! You two will have to learn how to work together! Learn to work together then! If you can’t, then I will find people who can! Is it really so hard?!” She took a deep breath.

“Sehun, don’t be a . Also, have a glass of water. Your face is getting all red. And Irene, don’t be a .” Sunny waved her spatula like a wand. “I’ll pretend that never happened. Now go, do your jobs.”

“Let’s wait out here for my sister,” Yeri suggested, kneeling down on the dying square of lawn in front of the cafe. November was warmer this year, but the plants were not being treated kindly in spite of that; all the trees hung bare, and the grass was mostly brown, then yellow.

Jongdae opted to stay standing, looking into the cafe as if he were window shopping.

“Missing someone?” Yeri asked, both knowingly and teasingly.

“Missing my damn bagels.”

“You know, Sehun’s in my math class. It got me thinking, maybe I should get a job.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I could go pick flowers, like you.” Yeri curled her knees to her chest.

“OKAY, being a florist is more than just-”

“Or if Sunny’ll hire me, I can be a barista too. I could use the money.”

They both peered through the cafe window. Irene was standing by the counter, taking orders from a long line of customers, while Minseok rushed around with a notepad and a pen, messily scribbling orders. In the kitchen stood a tall figure, unmistakably Sehun, elbow deep in kneading a lumpy mass of beige dough. He dumped the mass into a stainless steel bowl, and picked his nose. Without washing his hands, he stuck them back in the lump of dough, causing Yeri and Jongdae to wince.

“I hope those weren’t the bagels.” Jongdae shuddered.

Suddenly, a loud, splintering crash came from behind them.

The exploding light bulb might have almost been beautiful; the shower of electric sparks looked magical, save for the tiny pieces of glass that shattered all over the floor. Somebody screamed like a girl, and the customers burst into chaos.

“What the was that?” Sehun demanded. It wasn’t hard to spot him in the crowd; he was a head taller than everyone else, not to mention his eccentric hair color. The cafe patrons parted a path for him, and he rushed to the scene.

Minseok grabbed a dustpan and sprinted to the scene, joining Irene in picking up whatever pieces of glass they could. The light bulb fizzled and sparked before burning out lamely.

Kicking open the door, Yeri rushed in, flanked by Jongdae.

“Is everything okay?” she knelt down beside her sister, who held a handful of crystal shards. Irene nodded, and Jongdae grabbed a nearby trash can, watching her collect the sharp slivers without hesitation.

“Please, keep calm,” Sehun boomed. “It’s just a common malfunction. Nobody’s hurt, which is good, right?”

Minseok picked himself up from the ground. “We should probably change it.” He ran to the kitchen and came back with a shiny new light, holding it like a precious treasure.

“Why are you giving it to me?” Sehun held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not changing it.”

“You’re the only one who can remotely reach it.” Minseok offered it again, and the teenager made a point of extending his arms above his head to demonstrate.

“See, not tall enough.”

“Irene, grab him a chair.” Irene dragged a stool carelessly and kicked it towards her two fellow baristas.

“I’m not getting on the chair.” Sehun folded his arms. “I’m afraid of heights.”

“Sehun, change it.” Minseok waved the lightbulb in his face, frowning.

“No. Thanks.”

“I’m tired of this .” Irene rolled her eyes and huffed. “You’re useless.”

“She’s right, it’s not the time for your jokes.”

“So, you’re taking her side now?” Sehun sounded betrayed. “Just because I want to keep my feet planted on the ground?”

“We both know there’s no way in hell that I can reach, unless I take a truckload of steroids or I can fly,” Minseok shot back snarkily. To make a point, Irene stepped on, then stepped off the stool. Her arms didn’t even come close to the shattered remnants of the light bulb, missing the mark by at least a foot.

“Fine.” Sehun turned around and bent over.

“What are you doing?” Irene snapped. “This better not be one of your jokes.”

“Get on my back.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Get on. It’s a compromise. If I carry you on my shoulders, maybe you’ll be tall enough to reach.”

Irene made a face. No way.

“Just do it,” Minseok mouthed. Yeri pumped her fists, urging her sister on silently, and Jongdae snickered into his palm. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

Slowly, she approached Sehun, and laid her palms over his shoulders, forcing him down almost double-over. With a slight jump, Irene hoisted on leg up-then the other, and Sehun firmly hooked his elbows under her knees. She wriggled upwards and jumped onto his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his neck.

“Don’t you dare drop me,” she growled. Minseok reached upwards to hand her the lightbulb, and she patted Sehun, guiding him to the left.

“I still can’t reach it. Go right.” They looked like a swaying tower in the wind, and Yeri was unusually anxious as she watched Sehun teeter around, looking like he was going to lose his fitting with each and every step.

“Now go left,” Irene demanded. She strained her arms, passing the shattered bulb to Jongdae, and screwing in the shiny, new one. Once done, she was practically fighting to clamber off of Sehun, and she dropped to the ground on both feet, dusting her hands. He extended his palm to her, and she frowned.

“What are you doing?”

Jongdae threw the lightbulb into the garbage like a basketball, and Yeri let out a childish whoop.

“So you’re just going to leave me hanging? High five me. We actually accomplished something together.”

“Shocker,” Minseok said, as Irene gave Sehun a tentative high five. Her hand was a third of the size of his.

“Can someone take my order now?” a random customer piped up.

Right. The customers.

In the midst of the light bulb struggle, they had totally forgotten the very people they were hired to serve. Quickly, Irene dried her hands on her apron and dashed behind the counter. The baristas all dispersed back to their regular jobs, leaving the two stragglers standing in the corner.

“Hey.” Jongdae tapped Yeri’s elbow.

“What?”

“How many idiots does it take to change a lightbulb?”

Yeri groaned and dragged him towards the door. “C’mon. We’re going home.”