Boot the Diva

The diva must go. Here at Village Square coffee bar, we pride ourselves on being tolerant and accepting of all kinds. But we have had quite enough of this one.

I know divas come in all shapes, sizes and genders, and ours is certainly unique. But you will best understand if you think of our diva thus; A blond cutie with a good brain but no idea what to do with it. She had street cred, and the right kind of friends. That was enough until she showed up in our coffee shop. There, much to her shock and surprise, she was expected to work hard, and work efficiently, every hour of every shift she put in.

This was obviously new territory for her. She had never worked a full day in her young life, I'm sure. She didn't have to, she was sleek and stylish, and just plain cool to have around. She had managed to slide by on those scant qualifications so far.

So she did what any good diva would do. She worked only when she wanted to, and only if conditions were absolutely ideally to her liking. If not, she threw fits. She had tantrums. She pouted. She vented so loudly every customer in the dining room stopped and looked and listened. One particularly noisy night the musician even commented on her behavior.

Will Diva For Paycheck. That would have been her sign.

Now you understand why the diva must go. So stand, raise a demitasse of crema-crowned espresso to the departure of our old espresso machine, the mechanical diva with a shiny steel facade, and a heart stained with rust and corrosion.

Sayonara. We miss you not.