The IBB: Can It Possibly Get Worse?

One is sometimes reminded that one's fellow humans can be pretty gosh-darned dumb at times, and one is left to ponder how anyone so incredibly stupid can get along in this world and, for example, continue to hold their job. Then one realizes that with Mommy as the boss, the incredibly stupid person's job is secured for life ... or until they run the business into the ground.

I am, of course, refering to the IBB and the utter tool the "Manager." Two baristas are on vacation and the third barista offered to cover the Monday morning shift. She was assured both by the Queen Bee and by the "Manager" that the shift would be covered and not to worry about it. The barista was told by one of the bakers that she ought to just show up Monday morning because neither the Queen Bee nor the "Manager" would do anything about it and sure enough ...

I arrived on Monday morning to find the IBB dark and a note taped to the front door saying "No barista showed up today." I turned away, lost, alone, abandoned to the capricious whims of the Java Gods and walked up the street toward the OCH when I heard my name called and turned around to find one of the bakers. She said I could come inside and have some drip coffee and hang out with them.

Inside, in the kitchen, coffee in hand, they told me that the "Manager" was supposed to open the shop but he never turned up. Never called. Never nothing. Which is typical of this absolute tool. They told me about the huge party he had in the store Saturday night and the horrendous mess he left for Sunday's opening barista ... and the hour and a half it took her to clean it all up. They told me about the huge party he had at the main store and how he was passed out on one of the couches by the front window, surrounding by empty beer bottles and party wreckage while impatient customers knocked on the window in the vain attempt to rouse him and get him to open the store.

Now if we were talking about a twenty year old, there might some slight excuse for irresponsible behaviour. But this is someone who's thirty-seven. If his Mommy didn't own the stores he'd have been fired long ago and any reasonable, responsible parent would have canned his worthless backside after a while. But the Queen Bee is as delusional as he is, and Sonny Boy can do no wrong. He did get eggs from Costco ... even though the bakers have no eggs. He did bring clean aprons ... even though there are no clean aprons. He didn't take all the money ... even though there's nothing but $20s in the till. He did bring the money to the bank ... even though he left it on the table outside the store.

In the course of this recitation, a lot of which I'd heard before, but plenty I hadn't, we were joined by Steven, Mrs. Psmith and eventually M. I learned later from M. that The Money arrived, found the IBB dark and was not happy. Calls were made. Not that it will do much good, but at least someone's looking after their investment.

Around 2.30 I walked past the IBB and saw the "Manager" inside. The place was still dark and he was staring out the window. The IBB remained dark for the rest of the day and when I walked past it on my way to my car I noticed there was a new sign on the door: "Gone Fishing"
I suppose that's as good an excuse as any and one that Mommy, if no one else, will certainly buy.