Exactly at noon, I started working the first shift of my life.
“The coffee machine always has to be clean and plugged in,” my boss, Bato, warned me. Old Gaggia, as it was called, was to be turned off at 10 p.m., even if bullets were flying outside. This was a direct quote from Bato. “The machine doesn’t get turned on for anyone once it’s turned off, is that clear?”
I drank in Bato’s every word. “And if someone has a complaint about it,” he said in a raised tone so that everyone still in the café could hear, once and for all, they could just come to him, Bato Vozetic.
“And one more thing,” he remembered, lowering his voice. “If a punker comes in, you serve him whatever drink he orders, but call me on the phone immediately, is that clear?”Continue Reading >>>