The Double Shift

Jack Monroe sat at his new desk, staring at the monitor.

The screen blinked patiently.

A soft, pulsing white cursor hovered in the corner of an open workspace window — empty. Clean. Ready.

Jack blinked.

Then blinked again.

"...Okay," he muttered under his breath.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do.

The hum of the office continued around him — people moving with purpose, fingers dancing across keyboards, phones ringing, printers buzzing, quiet conversations rising and falling like waves.

Everyone looked like they belonged.

Jack, meanwhile, was frozen in place.

He stood up from his chair, slowly, stretching just to shake off the stiffness. He peeked over the short divider wall next to him, looking left and right — eyes scanning, hoping for some kind of clue.

Nothing.

Nobody looked back at him. Everyone was busy.

Jack sat down again.

The chair squeaked slightly under his weight. He rested both elbows on the desk, drummed his fingers, leaned back, leaned forward, opened and closed a drawer, then sighed.

He was here. He made it. First day. First desk.

And not a single thing to do.

"…I guess that's still better than another rejection," he said softly.

Out of instinct, Jack reached for the mouse and clicked around. A few folders opened. Mostly blank.

He minimized the windows.

And with nothing else to fill the silence… he opened Solitaire.

The cards shuffled with a satisfying swoosh. Familiar. Safe.

It wasn't much, but it gave his brain something to do while the rest of him waited for purpose to arrive.

After a few moves — red queen, black jack, red ten — a large shadow suddenly crossed over his desk.

Jack flinched and looked up.

Adam Morgan stood there, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised — but not angry. Amused.

"Settling in alright?" Adam asked with a grin.

Jack froze for half a second, his hand still mid-click on a card.

"I, uh… wasn't sure what to do. So I thought I'd… win a quick game of solitaire while I wait?"

Adam burst out laughing — not mockingly, but warm and loud, the kind of laugh that came from someone who appreciated honest answers.

"God, I like you already," Adam said, shaking his head. "Most new hires panic and start typing like maniacs just to look busy. You? You own it."

Jack gave an awkward smile. "Yeah, I guess owning it is all I've got."

Adam gestured with his head. "C'mon. You've got potential, but I need to test your real skills."

Jack blinked, confused. "Wait — now?"

Adam nodded. "Break room trial. Don't worry. It's not a trap."

They walked together past the maze of desks and into a side hallway. The office noise dimmed slightly. At the end of the hall was a set of double swing doors marked "Staff Only – Break Room."

Inside, the room was cozy and modern — a large coffee machine gleamed under soft lights, a long counter held stacks of mugs, and vending machines buzzed faintly in the corner.

Adam pulled up a chair and sat at the round table near the window.

"Make me a coffee," he said casually, like he was testing a car's brakes.

Jack blinked. "You serious?"

"Dead serious. I can tell a lot about someone by how they handle caffeine."

Jack hesitated, looked at the machine — a complicated one, industrial, covered in buttons and dials. But he didn't panic. He stepped up to it like he'd done this before.

He opened a cabinet, pulled out a few small jars and packets, checked the settings. He measured. Stirred. Poured. Then added one last twist: a sprinkle of cinnamon and a drop of vanilla from a bottle most people wouldn't have touched.

A few minutes later, he handed the cup to Adam.

Adam took a slow sip.

Then his eyes widened. His whole posture straightened.

"…You're kidding me," Adam said, nearly shouting. "This is amazing."

Jack blinked. "You like it?"

"Like it? This is better than whatever that overpriced chain downstairs serves in those recycled cups."

Jack scratched his neck, sheepishly. "I used to help my grandpa run a little coffee stall. Not fancy. But we experimented a lot with blends. Cheap stuff — but with care."

Adam stood up so fast his chair squeaked.

He darted over to a cabinet under the sink, pulled it open, and grabbed a notepad and pen.

"Okay. I need you to walk me through exactly what you did."

Jack laughed nervously. "Uh… seriously?"

"Jack," Adam said, dead serious now, "we work long hours here. Our survival depends on good coffee. You just became essential."

Jack shrugged. "Alright then…"

He started listing off ingredients, describing the ratios, the subtle order of pouring, and why temperature mattered more than bean quality when you're working with what you have. As he spoke, Adam furiously scribbled notes, nodding like Jack was reciting ancient wisdom.

Jack didn't realize it at first, but for the first time since he entered this place…

He felt useful.