Man, today was a wild ride. I’m a barista in Ris-Orangis, and lemme tell ya, this city never sleeps. I woke up late, of course. Alarm? What alarm? I sprinted to work, dodging pigeons on Rue de la République. Those little guys are like ninjas, I swear.
So, I get to the café, right? It’s called Café du Coin. Cute, huh? But today? Ugh. The line was out the door. Like, seriously? It’s just coffee, people! But nah, everyone’s gotta have their fix. I’m behind the counter, trying to keep my cool. I’m sweating like a sinner in church.
First customer? This dude, all decked out in a suit. He orders a triple espresso. I’m like, “Bro, you sure you wanna be that wired?” But whatever, I make it. He takes a sip and grimaces. “Too strong!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, it’s espresso. Not hot chocolate.”
Then, boom! The door swings open. It’s my buddy, Lucas. He’s got this wild look in his eyes. “You won’t believe what just happened!” he yells. I’m thinking, “Dude, I’m in the middle of a caffeine crisis here!” But I’m curious, so I lean in. Turns out, he saw a cat on the roof of the old post office on Rue de la Mairie. A CAT! Just chillin’ up there like it owns the place. I can’t even.
Back to the grind. I’m making lattes, cappuccinos, you name it. And then, this lady walks in. She’s got a stroller, right? But it’s not just any stroller. It’s like a spaceship. I’m talking high-tech, with gadgets and lights. She orders a decaf. I’m like, “Lady, you’ve got a spaceship, and you want decaf?”
I’m losing it. I spill some milk. It splashes on my apron. Great. Just great. I look like a walking dairy disaster.
Then, outta nowhere, the power goes out. Just my luck! The espresso machine? Dead. The lights? Gone. It’s like a horror movie. People are grumbling. I’m trying to keep it light. “Hey, who wants a candlelit coffee?” I joke. Crickets.
Finally, the power comes back. Thank you, sweet electricity! I’m back in business. But now, the line is even longer. I’m like a barista on a mission. I’m pouring, steaming, and trying not to lose my mind.
Around noon, I take a breather. I step outside for a sec. The sun’s shining on Rue de la Liberté. It’s beautiful. Kids are playing, old folks are chatting. I see a couple dancing in the square. It’s like a scene from a movie. I smile. This is why I love Ris-Orangis.
But then, I hear shouting. I look over, and there’s a guy arguing with a street vendor. Something about a crepe. I can’t even. “It’s just a crepe, man!” I yell. He turns and glares at me. Oops.
Back inside, I’m trying to focus. But my mind’s racing. I think about how Ris-Orangis is this mix of old and new. The old buildings, the new cafés. It’s like a patchwork quilt. And I’m just a tiny piece of it.
The afternoon drags on. I’m exhausted. But then, a regular walks in. It’s Marie. She’s the sweetest. Always has a smile. She orders her usual, a mocha with extra whipped cream. I whip it up, and she lights up. “You make the best coffee!” she says. That makes my day.
As the sun sets, I’m cleaning up. The café is quiet now. I look out at the streets of Ris-Orangis. The lights are twinkling. I think about all the craziness today. The cat, the power outage, the crepe fight. It’s all part of the charm.
I lock up and head home, still buzzing from the day. Ris-Orangis, you’re a wild one. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.