By Monday morning, I was ready to go and start working at the coffee shop. The first step over the weekend had been going to one of those Goodwill stores to buy some secondhand clothes. I bought a few cheap and trashy outfits, so now I was dressed more like someone who would work in a coffee shop.

I had also borrowed some of Cassie's makeup, which she had left behind when she went to college. I didn't really wear much makeup usually, my mother always said it made girls look cheap if they wore too much. But I thought it would make me fit in more with that neighborhood if I wore more obvious makeup. I probably should have gone for some type of facial piercing too, to complete the look, but I was worried it would be painful. So I hoped that the cheap clothes and makeup would be enough.

I got off the subway and walked down the stairs from the elevated station. It still felt strange and made me apprehensive. I figured it would probably take a while before I was used to being in an area like this.

There was still a slight chill in the air as I walked down the street. I kept my head down and wrapped my jacket tightly around me as the icy breeze tickled my skin. The weather was slowly getting warmer as we got to the end of April. But it was still quite cold first thing in the morning.

I arrived at the shop just before 9am. As I walked in, there were a few people queuing up at the counter. They all had the half dead look of people who were desperate for their first coffee of the morning. I stood back and watched for a moment, until Joe spotted me.

"You're here," he said. "Come around the side of the counter."

I did as he told me, and walked around to where he was standing. As I got closer, Joe grabbed something from under the counter and handed it to me.

"Your uniform. Put it on," he said, as he turned back to the coffee he was making.

I looked down at what Joe had given me. There was a small black t-shirt and a name tag for me to wear. I looked around confused. There didn't seem to be a changing room around anywhere. There was a separate kitchen area behind the counter, but it had a large opening so I couldn't change my top in there.

Joe turned to give the finished coffee to the customer. When he did, he saw that I was still standing there.

Joe rolled his eyes at me and pointed over towards the corner behind me. "The restroom is through that door," he said. "Go change your top in there."

I turned around and noticed the door he was referring to. Going inside, I found a small, dimly lit room. There was a toilet and sink, with a small mirror above it. Everything looked slightly dirty, and in need of a cleaner. I grimaced, and hoped that cleaning the restroom was not going to be one of my new jobs.

The t-shirt was quite tight when I put it on. I checked the label and realised that it was one size smaller than what I usually wore. It was slightly uncomfortable, but I assumed that this was the only size Joe had for me. I had a quick check in the mirror to see how I looked. The t-shirt was quite tight around my whole chest area, and seemed to really emphasize my breasts a lot more than I would usually be comfortable with.

There wasn't much I could do to make the t-shirt fit better, so I resigned myself to wearing it, at least temporarily. I then attached the name tag to the front of my chest, and quickly whipped back my hair and tied it into a loose bun.

When I came out from the restroom a few minutes later, Joe quickly looked me up and down again.

"Yeah, looks good," he said, as he nodded with approval.

"Well, the t-shirt is a little tight," I said.

"It's fine. It fits perfectly. What are you going to do?" said Joe.

I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a question or a statement. And was he now expecting an answer? Or was I supposed to just accept the uncomfortable uniform? I thought for a moment, then guessed that it was probably just for the trial period I was on. If I was given the job full time then I was sure Joe would get me a uniform that was the correct size.

"Yeah, it's fine," I said.

Joe slowly grinned at me, again showing off the fact that most of his teeth seemed to be missing. "You got that right," he said.

It sounded a little inappropriate the way he had said that, and I wasn't sure exactly how I was supposed to respond.

Before I could decide what I should say, Joe continued talking.

"You know how to work an espresso machine?" he asked, and pointed to the large device on the wall behind him.

I shrugged. "No," I said.

I had a look at the espresso machine behind Joe. It did look very old and complicated. There were loads of handles and tubes sticking out, and a bunch of switches and dials.

"It's easy, just pay attention," said Joe.

Then he turned to the next customer who was waiting to be served. It was a youngish guy, maybe mid 20s. He was wearing one of those hi vis vests that people wear on building sites.

"What do you want?" Joe asked.

"Large americano, black. To take out," the guy said.

"Okay, watch what I do," said Joe, as he turned back to me. "First, take off the filter."

Joe took hold of one of the handles, and twisted it to the side. It came off and I could see it had something like a small dish at the end filled with used coffee grounds. He then emptied it out into the bin, and gave the filter a quick wash in the sink. Joe then took it over to the large coffee grinder.

He filled the dish part with coffee grounds, and then stepped across to the next machine. It was a kind of plunger with a long handle. "Tap the filter, then press it down firmly," he said, as he carried out those actions.

I watched as he pressed the coffee grounds down tightly into the filter, then he clipped it back into the espresso machine, and placed a coffee cup underneath it. He then pressed the button to make the coffee start coming out the bottom. Once the cup was filled with the espresso, he poured it into a takeout cup, and topped it up with hot water.

"Here you go," Joe said, as he handed the cup to the customer.

The guy took the cup and left. There was just one more person remaining in the queue. A slightly older looking woman, wearing a smart looking suit and carrying a large leather bag under her arm. I wasn't sure what a woman like that would be doing in a place like this. She looked professional, like some kind of lawyer or something.

"Good morning, Joe," she said, with a smile.

Joe gave her a friendly smile back. "Good morning, Mary," he said. "You want your usual?"

"Yes, thank you," said Mary.

Joe turned around to face me again. "Okay, pay attention," he said. "Large latte, made with skim milk and a shot of vanilla syrup."

I nodded at Joe, then kept quiet as he made the order. He made the shot of espresso the same way as before, then poured some milk into a small jug. One of the tubes on the espresso machine had steam shoot out from it. Joe showed me how to put the jug over the end of the tube and use the steam to warm and froth the milk.

Once Joe had finished preparing the coffee, he handed it over to Mary and took her money in exchange. It still seemed odd to see a woman like that in this rough area. Especially as it sounded like she was a regular customer.

When Mary had left the shop, Joe turned to look at me. "So, you think you got all that?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Maybe," I said.

"Well let's find out," he said. "Make me an espresso."

I turned and faced the espresso machine and tried to remember exactly what Joe had done. I started by rinsing the filter and filling it with ground coffee. Then I tapped it down and replaced the filter. I put the small cup under the filter, and finally pressed the button to send the hot water through.

Once I had finished, I turned and presented it to Joe. He took the cup and carefully examined the espresso I had made. He then sniffed it, before taking a small sip.

"Not bad," said Joe. "You need to press the grounds down more firmly, but a good first attempt."

I sighed with relief, then gave him a big smile. I started to think that maybe this plan of becoming a barista could actually work.