Fic: Favorite Customer, Gibbs
Title: Favorite Customer, Gibbs
Author: Indra Leigh
Rating: FR 13
Crossover: NCIS
Disclaimer: So don't own NCIS
Summary: The rambling thoughts of the gal who is the source of Gibb’s coffee
Warning (if any): none, set any time in NCIS time line.
Author's notes(if any): I got the idea for this from a question asked by Lyl (lyl_devil), “has any one written a Gibbs in Starbucks fic from the pov of the barista?” and I think Gibbs would go for the best coffee on his way to work, and since he’s a loyal guy I thought of this.
My first day working with real customers. Yesterday I made every drink on the menu at least once. I have my notebook of instructions and it’s a supposed to be a slow shift. I sure hope so. The manager is in the back in case the world ends or something as bad as that like if two customers come in at the same time. Okay, it’s now six am we are now open for business. Ohh I nearly forgot to flip the switch on the hot coffee now sign.
My first customer, they must know what they want since they never looked at the sign. I really hope its something easy, like a mocha. I can do a mocha or a latte but if they ask for substitutions I’m sunk.
“Hello, what can I get for you sir?”
He doesn’t hesitate when he states what he wants. I’m not sure how old he is, older than me for sure but then I’m fresh out of college. Took me only three years to do it and here I am now, pondering can wait Amy. Need to focus now.
“Coffee.”
The way he says that one word makes me think that’s all he wants. I’d better ask to be sure. “Black hot coffee?”
“Exactly”
I quickly move to fill the cup with the black gold from the grounds that I had carefully measured out not that many minutes ago. Paper cup, cardboard sleeve, and there is some thing else…..the lid. Properly assembled and filled to order I had the cup to the man who seemed to have eyes only for the coffee now in his hands. As I press the correct buttons on the cash register he speaks.
“First day?”
“Yes sir, mornings here and afternoons at the newspaper as a gofer and photographer.” I answered him hoping that he didn’t find my coffee distasteful and demand a refund.
As he took his chance back he sipped his coffee and gave a such a slight nod I wasn’t sure he was aware of it. I guess it passed muster.
Run of the mill coffee counter in a grocery store, but it’s my first day working here so it’s a special place to me. I hope the rest of the customers are as easy as Mr. Coffee.
My first month ended yesterday and I’ve noticed a few regulars, mostly people who get a cup of something while they shop for their groceries. Some people want something right off the menu with no special requests. Some have a coffee order long enough for a short filler column in the paper that results in one cup of fancy coffee. Coffee has been here every morning for the last six days in a row. I don’t know his name, he pays in cash so I can’t read a name off of a credit card and I haven’t spoken since the second time he came by my little counter here. I asked coffee? and he nodded.
Hey here he is today and he’s even humming a bit, that’s new. I’m almost able to time it just right so that I’m able to hand him his coffee as he is setting his money on the counter. Today I’m going to start filling the cup when he steps on that square of floor tile next to the newspaper stand. Ha! I timed it just right. I can tell my forehead wrinkled when I saw that put something on the money on the counter. A pin or tie tack that was in the shape of a daisy flower.
“Happy anniversary.” He doesn’t say much, but what he says means a lot.
“Thank you Mr.” I don’t know what his name is, but I still thank him for remembering.
“Gibbs. And you make the best coffee I’ve found in this town, and I’ve tried them all.”
He raises the paper cup at me in a toast before walking away. I have a name for him. Gibbs. That Daisy pin is going on my name tag, I want people to see this even if they don’t know what it is for.
We don’t say much. He walks into the grocery store, I pour him a cup of coffee, and we trade the cup-a-joe for cash and he heads out. I have no idea if this is a stop on the way to work or lives a life of leisure and needs to have a coffee fix every day. My job at the paper, the one that goes with my degree, isn’t quiet what I had hoped it would have been. Maybe it’s the boss, maybe it’s the fact that they wont let me do anything but filing or research for stories that never show up in the paper. My mind sure can wonder.
I’m going to miss it here. I’ve gotten to know the regulars. Mom of three who gets the largest mocha I can make. Literature professor guy who only drinks hot chocolate. The reader who gets variations on coffee and chocolate combinations who will sit and read for hours. Gibbs. I think I will miss Gibbs the most. I hate the grocery store for doing this. Oh, here he comes. Since this may be the last coffee I make for him I’ll make it on the house.
“Gibbs, It’s good to see you, but I have bad news.” I start talking when he is a about four feet from the counter. Ohhh it doesn’t look like he likes getting bad news. “The grocery store is ending our lease at the end of the week and in order to be cleaned out of our space by then today is the last day of operation then we have to move everything out so they can put in pre made grab and go lunch things.”
“What are you going to do?” Gibbs asks, see this is why I’ll miss him. He’s observant and cares about me as a person and not as the ditz who can’t handle something more complicated than making coffee.
“I’ve applied at the Starbucks near the Navy Yard. I had an interview yesterday but I haven’t heard back from them yet. If that doesn’t work out I will see if I can get more shifts at the paper.” The grocery store kept stringing us along about the lease and finally yesterday morning the sprung the wonderful news on us.
“More shifts pulling old articles from the archives or real reporting and writing shifts?” Gibbs asks, he knows I don’t really care for what that boss of mine has me doing.
“Probably the archive dungeon of doom, the ass kissers get do to the real writing work.” I answer him thinking that when I compare the dungeon with working here I prefer here, even with unhappy customers who want me to read their mind and have coffee ready for them before they walk in the door.
“Your degrees are photography and writing.” He asks and I nod as he says “Starbucks out side the Navy Yard?”
“That’s the one. I talked to the manager yesterday afternoon.” I’m not surprised when he doesn’t really respond other than that determined look I’ve seen on his face a couple times over the last couple of years. He didn’t have that look on his face when he came in here.
I got the job! And the shift I wanted. I start in three weeks. This calls for a celebration, a shot of espresso.
Look at me, first day of the new job. New store, but still peddling coffee. First up meeting the manager for paperwork and all that stuff. I knocked on the managers door and as he’s moving his head to look at me he see something and jumps out of his chair. Tossing me an apron he demands follow me. I follow him behind the counter, joining the other people working there. I quickly look everything over hoping that I’ll be able to keep up with the people who have been working there and who could pull a mocha easier than breathing. I think I freeze for a second when I see Gibbs at the door. I want to wave and yell Look at me I got the job . I don’t, instead I reach for the size of cup he likes and fills it with the roast closest to what I would brew at my little coffee counter. I’m looking at my new co-workers wondering why in the world they seem to be backing away from the counter as Gibbs walks up.
“Hello, what can I get for you sir?” I ask wondering if he will remember the last time I asked that of him.
He smiles. It’s a rare occurrence but a sight to see, he gives me the same answer this morning that he gave me then. “Coffee.”
I ask as I extend the cup toward him. “Black hot coffee?”
“Exactly. First day?” He asks in what seems like a humorous mood. The other employees behind the counter are clustered away from the cash registers. I guess they like to give the new people a chance to sink or swim.
I smile happy that I will be able to continue to see Gibbs. He smiles as he walks away with his black hot coffee and I look expectantly at he next customer.
I have to prompt them, they’re staring after Gibbs for some reason. They rattle off their ridiculous detailed order before explaining, “He’s been in here every day for the last three weeks, stands in line then asks who every is working the counter something before leaving in a bad mood with out getting coffee or anything. Today he actually ordered something.”
Huh, I sure didn’t expect that. Another reason I think Gibbs is my favorite customer.
“You switched coffee brands.” DiNozzo states as I walk past him to my desk. Yes, Tony I switched brands but I returned to the one person who didn’t try to sell me a coffee that MeGee would order. I stuck with her because she made a good cup of coffee, reminded me a bit of Kelly, and she’s a good kid.
Author: Indra Leigh
Rating: FR 13
Crossover: NCIS
Disclaimer: So don't own NCIS
Summary: The rambling thoughts of the gal who is the source of Gibb’s coffee
Warning (if any): none, set any time in NCIS time line.
Author's notes(if any): I got the idea for this from a question asked by Lyl (lyl_devil), “has any one written a Gibbs in Starbucks fic from the pov of the barista?” and I think Gibbs would go for the best coffee on his way to work, and since he’s a loyal guy I thought of this.
My first day working with real customers. Yesterday I made every drink on the menu at least once. I have my notebook of instructions and it’s a supposed to be a slow shift. I sure hope so. The manager is in the back in case the world ends or something as bad as that like if two customers come in at the same time. Okay, it’s now six am we are now open for business. Ohh I nearly forgot to flip the switch on the hot coffee now sign.
My first customer, they must know what they want since they never looked at the sign. I really hope its something easy, like a mocha. I can do a mocha or a latte but if they ask for substitutions I’m sunk.
“Hello, what can I get for you sir?”
He doesn’t hesitate when he states what he wants. I’m not sure how old he is, older than me for sure but then I’m fresh out of college. Took me only three years to do it and here I am now, pondering can wait Amy. Need to focus now.
“Coffee.”
The way he says that one word makes me think that’s all he wants. I’d better ask to be sure. “Black hot coffee?”
“Exactly”
I quickly move to fill the cup with the black gold from the grounds that I had carefully measured out not that many minutes ago. Paper cup, cardboard sleeve, and there is some thing else…..the lid. Properly assembled and filled to order I had the cup to the man who seemed to have eyes only for the coffee now in his hands. As I press the correct buttons on the cash register he speaks.
“First day?”
“Yes sir, mornings here and afternoons at the newspaper as a gofer and photographer.” I answered him hoping that he didn’t find my coffee distasteful and demand a refund.
As he took his chance back he sipped his coffee and gave a such a slight nod I wasn’t sure he was aware of it. I guess it passed muster.
Run of the mill coffee counter in a grocery store, but it’s my first day working here so it’s a special place to me. I hope the rest of the customers are as easy as Mr. Coffee.
My first month ended yesterday and I’ve noticed a few regulars, mostly people who get a cup of something while they shop for their groceries. Some people want something right off the menu with no special requests. Some have a coffee order long enough for a short filler column in the paper that results in one cup of fancy coffee. Coffee has been here every morning for the last six days in a row. I don’t know his name, he pays in cash so I can’t read a name off of a credit card and I haven’t spoken since the second time he came by my little counter here. I asked coffee? and he nodded.
Hey here he is today and he’s even humming a bit, that’s new. I’m almost able to time it just right so that I’m able to hand him his coffee as he is setting his money on the counter. Today I’m going to start filling the cup when he steps on that square of floor tile next to the newspaper stand. Ha! I timed it just right. I can tell my forehead wrinkled when I saw that put something on the money on the counter. A pin or tie tack that was in the shape of a daisy flower.
“Happy anniversary.” He doesn’t say much, but what he says means a lot.
“Thank you Mr.” I don’t know what his name is, but I still thank him for remembering.
“Gibbs. And you make the best coffee I’ve found in this town, and I’ve tried them all.”
He raises the paper cup at me in a toast before walking away. I have a name for him. Gibbs. That Daisy pin is going on my name tag, I want people to see this even if they don’t know what it is for.
We don’t say much. He walks into the grocery store, I pour him a cup of coffee, and we trade the cup-a-joe for cash and he heads out. I have no idea if this is a stop on the way to work or lives a life of leisure and needs to have a coffee fix every day. My job at the paper, the one that goes with my degree, isn’t quiet what I had hoped it would have been. Maybe it’s the boss, maybe it’s the fact that they wont let me do anything but filing or research for stories that never show up in the paper. My mind sure can wonder.
I’m going to miss it here. I’ve gotten to know the regulars. Mom of three who gets the largest mocha I can make. Literature professor guy who only drinks hot chocolate. The reader who gets variations on coffee and chocolate combinations who will sit and read for hours. Gibbs. I think I will miss Gibbs the most. I hate the grocery store for doing this. Oh, here he comes. Since this may be the last coffee I make for him I’ll make it on the house.
“Gibbs, It’s good to see you, but I have bad news.” I start talking when he is a about four feet from the counter. Ohhh it doesn’t look like he likes getting bad news. “The grocery store is ending our lease at the end of the week and in order to be cleaned out of our space by then today is the last day of operation then we have to move everything out so they can put in pre made grab and go lunch things.”
“What are you going to do?” Gibbs asks, see this is why I’ll miss him. He’s observant and cares about me as a person and not as the ditz who can’t handle something more complicated than making coffee.
“I’ve applied at the Starbucks near the Navy Yard. I had an interview yesterday but I haven’t heard back from them yet. If that doesn’t work out I will see if I can get more shifts at the paper.” The grocery store kept stringing us along about the lease and finally yesterday morning the sprung the wonderful news on us.
“More shifts pulling old articles from the archives or real reporting and writing shifts?” Gibbs asks, he knows I don’t really care for what that boss of mine has me doing.
“Probably the archive dungeon of doom, the ass kissers get do to the real writing work.” I answer him thinking that when I compare the dungeon with working here I prefer here, even with unhappy customers who want me to read their mind and have coffee ready for them before they walk in the door.
“Your degrees are photography and writing.” He asks and I nod as he says “Starbucks out side the Navy Yard?”
“That’s the one. I talked to the manager yesterday afternoon.” I’m not surprised when he doesn’t really respond other than that determined look I’ve seen on his face a couple times over the last couple of years. He didn’t have that look on his face when he came in here.
I got the job! And the shift I wanted. I start in three weeks. This calls for a celebration, a shot of espresso.
Look at me, first day of the new job. New store, but still peddling coffee. First up meeting the manager for paperwork and all that stuff. I knocked on the managers door and as he’s moving his head to look at me he see something and jumps out of his chair. Tossing me an apron he demands follow me. I follow him behind the counter, joining the other people working there. I quickly look everything over hoping that I’ll be able to keep up with the people who have been working there and who could pull a mocha easier than breathing. I think I freeze for a second when I see Gibbs at the door. I want to wave and yell Look at me I got the job . I don’t, instead I reach for the size of cup he likes and fills it with the roast closest to what I would brew at my little coffee counter. I’m looking at my new co-workers wondering why in the world they seem to be backing away from the counter as Gibbs walks up.
“Hello, what can I get for you sir?” I ask wondering if he will remember the last time I asked that of him.
He smiles. It’s a rare occurrence but a sight to see, he gives me the same answer this morning that he gave me then. “Coffee.”
I ask as I extend the cup toward him. “Black hot coffee?”
“Exactly. First day?” He asks in what seems like a humorous mood. The other employees behind the counter are clustered away from the cash registers. I guess they like to give the new people a chance to sink or swim.
I smile happy that I will be able to continue to see Gibbs. He smiles as he walks away with his black hot coffee and I look expectantly at he next customer.
I have to prompt them, they’re staring after Gibbs for some reason. They rattle off their ridiculous detailed order before explaining, “He’s been in here every day for the last three weeks, stands in line then asks who every is working the counter something before leaving in a bad mood with out getting coffee or anything. Today he actually ordered something.”
Huh, I sure didn’t expect that. Another reason I think Gibbs is my favorite customer.
“You switched coffee brands.” DiNozzo states as I walk past him to my desk. Yes, Tony I switched brands but I returned to the one person who didn’t try to sell me a coffee that MeGee would order. I stuck with her because she made a good cup of coffee, reminded me a bit of Kelly, and she’s a good kid.