The front of the house staff wore pink shirts and khakis beneath the green aprons that the shop issued. Their job was to run the register, keep the case full, make coffee, heat up and dish out eat-in meals, and weigh and pack to-go orders. My sister worked out front, and she got me the sandwich-making gig. Because of the nature of the job, people came and went, but even so, there was a core group on the schedule for most of the time I was there.
Suzy was the manager; her asymmetrical bob was 80s cool, but she was strict and no-nonsense with her staff. The corners of her mouth would turn down and her blue eyes would flash with irritation at any unfilled serving platter, empty coffee pot, or unwiped counter.
Kate was the assistant manager. She had graduated from Rutgers a few years earlier with a chemistry degree, and she was living in the area temporarily because her husband Paul had been stationed there out of West Point. Peter was a local guy; barely five feet tall, he had the slow and lazy speech of a surfer and a matching reputation as an airhead. Gaye was a southern belle; her hair and makeup were always perfect, she lived with her wealthy mother, and read fashion and travel magazines. Hope was the high school sweetheart; blond and pretty, she was dating a local cop who turned out to be a big jerk.
With such a cast, there was always some drama, and we spent countless off-hours talking endlessly about the people we worked with. It was enough to drive other people from the room!
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