Consider the Work Ethic of the Starbucks Employee

because it's 5:30 a.m. and there's already
three people in line behind me, waiting
for her to look up and call us forward,
one by one. It took ten minutes
for my Uber driver to deliver me from
my front door to departures. I cruised
through check-in and security, I'm platinum--
I do this three times a month. But where
did she come from? How far 
is the employee parking lot? Then 
she waits for the shuttle, clears security,
opens the shop to cranky,
caffeine-deprived travelers. I pay
for my latte, provide my name
when prompted, drop change into
the tip jar. My name is misspelled,
a butchered version inked in black marker.
I didn't even look at her
name tag, can't remember if I said good
morning before my order. I snake
back to the register, pull a few more dollars
from my purse, drop them into the jar
before leaving to catch my flight, my latte,
the perfect temperature–it always is.

Artwork by Simone Hadebe