Chapter 13 - Vanessa's Descent into the Working Class
The incredibly loud,
incredibly obnoxious bell above the cheap,
greasy glass door chimed violently,
signaling the highly annoying,
exhausting arrival of yet another incredibly demanding,
rude customer.
Vanessa Hale stood incredibly awkwardly,
miserably behind the highly sticky,
disgusting laminate counter of a cheap,
heavily franchised coffee shop located in the incredibly dirty,
loud industrial district of the sprawling city.
She was currently wearing an incredibly hideous,
bright orange uniform polo shirt that clashed horribly,
violently with her highly faded,
previously expensive designer jeans,
her incredibly messy,
unwashed hair pulled back clumsily,
hastily into a highly uneven,
frizzy ponytail.
Her incredibly soft,
previously perfectly manicured hands were now highly red,
incredibly cracked,
and deeply covered in highly sticky,
disgusting syrups and cheap,
artificial coffee grounds.
It had been exactly four incredibly long,
deeply agonizing weeks since her beautiful,
highly exclusive boutique had been violently,
ruthlessly seized and completely liquidated by the highly aggressive,
unforgiving bank.
She had deeply,
foolishly assumed that with her highly sophisticated,
upper class background,
she would easily,
quickly secure a highly prestigious,
well paying management position in high end retail.
However,
she incredibly,
painfully learned that without her incredibly wealthy,
now completely bankrupt brother's powerful,
influential connections,
her highly inflated,
completely empty resume was entirely,
absolutely worthless in the deeply competitive,
ruthless real world.
She had been aggressively,
humiliatingly rejected by exactly fourteen different,
highly average retail stores,
forcing her to desperately,
miserably accept this incredibly low paying,
highly degrading minimum wage job just to avoid incredibly terrifying,
imminent homelessness.
"Hey,
I ordered a highly complicated,
incredibly specific iced caramel macchiato with precisely three pumps of sugar free vanilla,
and this completely,
entirely tastes like absolutely plain,
disgusting black coffee,"
an incredibly angry,
highly aggressive businesswoman shouted rudely,
slamming her incredibly cheap,
plastic cup down violently on the incredibly sticky,
dirty counter.
"I am incredibly,
deeply sorry,
ma'am,
I will happily,
quickly remake that exactly,
perfectly for you right away,"
Vanessa stammered nervously,
her incredibly high,
previously arrogant voice trembling pathetically,
terrified of angering her highly strict,
unforgiving shift manager.
Vanessa aggressively,
frantically turned around,
rushing desperately,
clumsily to the massive,
highly complicated industrial espresso machine,
her deeply tired,
aching hands shaking violently as she frantically,
desperately tried to remember the incredibly confusing,
complex recipe.
As she heavily,
awkwardly pushed the massive,
stainless steel portafilter firmly,
tightly into the highly expensive,
advanced machine,
she suddenly,
unexpectedly froze completely,
entirely in absolute,
terrified shock.
Her deeply bloodshot,
incredibly exhausted eyes locked firmly,
horrifyingly onto a small,
highly polished metal plaque securely,
proudly attached directly to the very center of the incredibly expensive,
high tech coffee machine.
The plaque highly prominently,
boldly read,
"Property of Apex Restaurant Supplies,
a subsidiary of the Emily Hale Corporate Trust."
Vanessa felt a massive,
incredibly sickening wave of absolute,
pure nausea violently wash over her entire,
trembling body,
a deeply cold,
terrifying sweat breaking out instantly on her highly flushed,
stressed forehead.
She suddenly,
horrifyingly realized that she was not just working an incredibly humiliating,
deeply degrading minimum wage job to survive.
She was actively,
literally using highly expensive,
advanced equipment completely,
entirely owned,
supplied,
and controlled by the incredibly powerful,
ruthless woman she used to deeply,
arrogantly mock and terribly,
cruelly abuse.
Emily was incredibly,
undeniably everywhere,
an absolutely massive,
unstoppable financial titan who completely,
entirely controlled the deeply complex,
hidden supply chains of the entire,
sprawling city.
"Are you actually,
literally going to completely remake my incredibly expensive,
highly specific drink today,
or are you just going to completely,
idiotically stare at that damn machine forever?"
the incredibly rude,
highly impatient customer yelled aggressively,
violently snapping her sharp,
annoying fingers loudly,
rudely in Vanessa's terrified,
pale face.
"Yes,
right away,
I am incredibly,
deeply sorry,"
Vanessa whispered pathetically,
a single,
hot tear of absolute,
pure humiliation rolling slowly,
miserably down her dirty,
sweaty cheek.
She aggressively,
rapidly pulled the highly necessary,
dark espresso shots,
the incredibly bitter,
strong smell of the cheap coffee violently,
terribly overwhelming her deeply fragile,
highly stressed senses.
She realized with absolute,
terrifying clarity that there was absolutely,
entirely no escape from Emily’s incredibly massive,
overwhelming empire,
no highly secret,
hidden place where she could actually,
truly hide from the terrifying,
crushing consequences of her incredibly cruel,
arrogant past.
She handed the incredibly sticky,
cold plastic cup carefully,
nervously back to the highly angry,
rude woman,
forcing a deeply fake,
highly painful smile onto her incredibly exhausted,
defeated face.
Vanessa,
the incredibly proud,
highly arrogant sister who incredibly used to highly,
arrogantly demand absolute,
total perfection from everyone entirely around her,
was now officially,
undeniably reduced to a completely,
entirely insignificant,
broken servant in her incredibly powerful,
May you like
ruthless sister in law’s absolutely massive,
unseen kingdom.
