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This was an absolute nightmare. I'd been to ten coffee shops so far and each one of them were either not to my liking, or they didn't have any positions available. I always knew job hunting was hard, but not this hard. I felt like I've wasted the entire day walking around to different shops, embarrassing myself in asking if they were hiring.

I wanted to do it at home. Either email them or call them but Mia told me that they won't take me seriously unless I showed up physically. I was beginning to believe that Mia was making it up.

I headed south of the City and found a small little coffee corner shop. The sign read, 'The Bean'. The streets were busy, as expected, but as I entered the shop, it was quiet with a dense smell of coffee. One side of the wall was filled with books on pastel blue shelves. There were several small round tables that each had four wooden chairs, and on the other side of the shop was the counter which a petite, elderly lady was serving coffee to a customer.

It had a very rustic feeling. Exactly how it was described in the reviews. There was a glass case nearby the counter with a variety of pastries and other deserts and behind the counter, on the wall, was a chalk board that had the specials. I loved it. Books and coffee were my two favourite things and with them together it was perfect.

"Hello, dear. What would you like?" asked the elderly lady as I approached the counter.

I quickly glanced at her name tag which said 'Lucinda'. "Hi, Lucinda," I greeted. "I was hoping if I could speak with the owner or the manager?"

"You're looking at her," she replied with a friendly smile, "and please, call me Lucy."

I observed the café one more time just in case I saw something that was on my no-no list. But there wasn't. The atmosphere was great, the soft music that was playing the background was calming and the people who sat at the tables weren't talking loudly or anything. They sat peacefully while reading a book, talking to their friends, or on their laptops.

"I was wondering if you had any positions available. I'm looking to apply," I advised. This was my tenth attempt and by now, I was at an expert at asking the same question over and over again.

"Hmm, I haven't really been thinking about hiring, but my husband kept pushing me to," she explained. I didn't know what she meant but regardless, I felt a tinge of hope. "Do you have any experience as a barista?" she then asked.

At that moment, I knew I wasn't going to get the job. "No, I don't. Sorry," I answered sadly.

"What experience do you have?"

I felt embarrassed. "None," I replied honestly. "I never really had a need to work. I mean I'm still in high school and I've only been concentrating on studies but now that it's my final year, I want to do more than just study."

She nodded slowly. "If you're in your final year, wouldn't that mean you'd be busier? Are you sure getting a job now is a smart idea?"

Probably not. "It will teach me how to manage my time more efficiently if I didn't."

"You could always just join a club or something?"

"I am. But I want to put myself out in the real world, and this position will let me do just that. Meet different people and learn how to communicate more effectively. That's something I need to work on," I explained sheepishly. "And though I don't have any experience, I'm a very quick learner. I'm very dedicated and hardworking. While I won't be able to take any shift during school hours, you'll find that I'm an easy person and really good at memorising things if you did hire me."

I felt desperate, and I was pretty certain that she noticed.

But she smiled. "I like your enthusiasm," she said. I had enthusiasm? "Do you have a resume?"

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