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    Published August 5, 2025by Osmond

    My Barista is leaving her job! No! Don't leave! A comedy parody.

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    **[SCENE: “Bean There, Done That” – a cozy, slightly hipster coffee shop. Soft indie music plays. The barista, MARIA, 28, tattoo on her wrist, hair in a messy bun, stands behind the counter. She clears her throat, taps her mug.]**

    **Maria:**

    “Uh… hey everyone. Can I have a sec? I’ve got some news. I’m… leaving. My last day is Friday.”

    *Silence. Then —*

    **Customer 1 (Dramatic Guy):** *(drops croissant)*

    “…No.

    No, no, no.

    *This can’t be happening.*”

    **Customer 2 (Crying Girl):** *(already sobbing into her oat milk latte)*

    “But… your *smile*! Your *perfect foam hearts*! Who will draw a tiny me in the crema?!”

    **Customer 3 (Old Man):**

    “This… this is worse than when they discontinued the large size.”

    **Maria:** *(blinks)*

    “Wait—what? I’m not *dying*. I’m just… quitting. People do this. All the time.”

    **Dramatic Guy:** *(kneeling)*

    “You were my *morning ritual*! You said ‘extra shot, just for you’ like it meant something!”

    **Maria:**

    “It *did* mean something! It meant you paid for it!”

    **Crying Girl:**

    “We shared *vibes*! You remembered I like my cup warm, not hot! That’s *soul-level connection*!”

    **Maria:**

    “That’s called ‘order notes,’ Karen.”

    ---

    **[Enter: ONE GUY IN THE BACK, sipping black coffee. Calm. Name tag: GLENN. He raises hand.]**

    **Glenn:**

    “I support this decision. Also, yes — I *would* cry if *every* barista quit.”

    **Maria:** *(stares)*

    “…You’re serious?”

    **Glenn:**

    “Last week, Dave left. *Dave.* The guy who said ‘cool’ after every order. I wept into my cold brew. They replaced him with *Liz*. She says ‘awesome.’ It’s *not the same.*”

    **Maria:** *(pinching bridge of nose)*

    “Okay. Look. I’m moving to Portland. I got a job at a cat café. I’ll still make coffee. I’ll still be *alive*. You can… *talk to me*.”

    **Crying Girl:** *(sniffles)*

    “But… how? We barely know each other! We only interact in 90-second bursts!”

    **Maria:**

    “We can *exchange numbers*.”

    *Everyone gasps. A mug shatters. Off-screen, someone faints.*

    **Dramatic Guy:**

    “You mean… *personal communication*? Outside the sacred ritual of transaction?”

    **Maria:**

    “Yes. It’s called ‘being human.’ Try it. My number’s 555-LOVE-PEACE. Text me. Call me. Send a carrier pigeon. I don’t care.”

    **Glenn:**

    “What if I just… miss your energy?”

    **Maria:**

    “Then come visit. I hear planes exist. So do trains. And buses. And, like… *friendship*.”

    **Old Man:**

    “But what about the *lore*? The ‘Maria always winks when I order a double espresso’ arc? It’s not complete!”

    **Maria:**

    “There is no *lore*. There’s just coffee and small talk! I winked because I had an eyelash in my eye!”

    **[Silence. They all stare.]**

    **Crying Girl:** *(softly)*

    “So… you weren’t *into* me?”

    **Maria:**

    “I literally watched you rehearse your stand-up routine about toast for 45 minutes. I was *enduring* you.”

    ---

    **[Maria pulls out her phone. Opens Contacts. Adds: “Glenn – Coffee Bro.” Sends a text: “Hey. It’s Maria. From the shop. I’m alive. Also, Glenn, your jokes are still bad.”]**

    **Maria:** *(to the room)*

    “See?

    You don’t have to mourn.

    You don’t have to make a tribute video.

    You don’t have to buy a ‘Last Latte’ mug with my face on it.

    *(Pauses.)*

    Actually, if you already made that, send me one. I’ll use it ironically.”

    **Dramatic Guy:**

    “But… what if we *want* to cry?”

    **Maria:**

    “Then cry! But cry *after* you say ‘good luck’ like a normal person!

    People leave jobs!

    They move!

    They grow!

    They get better offers!

    It’s not the end of the world!

    ---

    **[CONTINUES]**

    **Maria:**

    “It’s not the end of the world!

    It’s called *life*!

    And if you really miss me?

    Guess what — I have *a phone*!

    I have *a face*!

    I have *opinions about oat milk* that I will *gladly send via text*!”

    **Glenn:** *(typing furiously)*

    “Wait — does this mean… we can be *friends*? Outside of transactional caffeine dependency?”

    **Maria:**

    “Yes, Glenn. You can know me as more than ‘the voice that said “your pumpkin spice is ready.”’”

    **Crying Girl:** *(sniffles, then slowly pulls out phone)*

    “So… no farewell livestream?”

    **Maria:**

    “No. But I *will* post a photo of my new cat wearing a tiny barista hat. You can like it.”

    **Old Man:**

    “Will you remember me? The guy who always argues about grind size?”

    **Maria:**

    “Sir, you once gave a 20-minute lecture on tamping pressure to a high school intern. I will *never* forget you.”

    **[Beat. They all look at each other. Then, slowly, pull out their phones.]**

    **Dramatic Guy:** *(tearing up, typing)*

    “I’m adding you as ‘Maria (My Emotional Support Barista).’ I’ll probably text you at 3 a.m. about my dreams.”

    **Maria:**

    “Cool. I’ll ignore it. Like a real friend.”

    ---

    **[Suddenly, the SHOP OWNER bursts in, wearing a black suit, holding a single rose.]**

    **Shop Owner:**

    “Maria… we can’t let you go. The customers are in chaos. The espresso machine weeps. The oat milk is in disarray.”

    **Maria:**

    “Doug, the machine is *not* alive.”

    **Shop Owner:** *(dramatic whisper)*

    “It *hums her favorite song* when she walks in.”

    **Maria:**

    “That’s because I played it on loop for six months!”

    **Shop Owner:**

    “Then… we have no choice. We must… *replace you.*”

    **[Gasp. A single leaf falls from a fake plant.]**

    **Shop Owner:** *(solemn)*

    “We’ll bring in… *the new one.*”

    **[Dramatic music. The door creaks open. A new barista enters. Perfect hair. Angelic glow. Holds a latte that steams in the shape of a heart.]**

    **New Barista:** *(soft, ethereal voice)*

    “Hello… I am… *Esmeralda.* I know all your orders. I feel your pain. I will remember your name… *forever.*”

    **Crying Girl:** *(already tearing up)*

    “…She’s beautiful.”

    **Glenn:**

    “I think I’m in love. Or having a stroke. Hard to tell.”

    **Maria:** *(grabbing coat, heading for door)*

    “Great. You’ve replaced me with a *myth*. Cool. I’m out. Portland, here I come.”

    **[She opens the door. Pauses. Turns back.]**

    **Maria:**

    “Oh, and Esmeralda?”

    **Esmeralda:** *(serene)*

    “Yes…?”

    **Maria:**

    “If Glenn orders his usual, tell him his jokes are still bad. And Crying Girl? Warm, not hot. Got it?”

    **Esmeralda:** *(smile flickers)*

    “…I… do not understand ‘jokes.’ I was trained only in *emotional resonance* and *perfect foam.*”

    **Maria:** *(grinning)*

    “Then you’ll learn. Welcome to humanity.”

    **[She walks out. Sunlight hits her face. She takes a deep breath.]**

    **Maria (V.O.):**

    “People leave jobs.

    It’s not the end.

    It’s just… a new order.

    And if you really care?

    Don’t cry.

    Don’t make merch.

    Don’t start a fan wiki.

    Just…

    text me.

    Call me.

    Tell me your dumb toast joke.

    Because I’m not gone.

    I’m just…

    off the menu.”

    **[FADE TO BLACK.]**

    **Text on screen:**

    > *“Maria is now at ‘Purr & Pour’ – Cat Café with Decent Wi-Fi. She still hates oat milk. Say hi.”*

    **[END.]**

    **[SCENE: A quiet park bench. Late afternoon. Maria sits, phone to her ear, smiling. She’s talking to her mom.]**

    **Maria:**

    “Yeah, Mom, I’m really excited. The cat café starts next week. And the rent’s cheaper. Plus, the cats *already* judge me — so it’s like I’m home.”

    **Mom (on speaker):**

    “That’s great, sweetie! I’m so proud of you. Just… don’t let the cats unionize. Last time I checked, they’re very into worker’s rights.”

    **Maria:** *(laughs)*

    “Noted. No overtime for Mr. Whiskers.”

    **[Suddenly — dramatic music swells. A spotlight appears from nowhere. A group of five people in matching “TEAM MARIA FOREVER” hoodies marches toward her, led by a guy holding a megaphone.]**

    **Fan Club Leader:** *(through megaphone)*

    “**HOLD IT, MARIA!** Do not take another step toward freedom!”

    **Maria:** *(pulls phone away, stunned)*

    “What the—?! Mom, hold on.”

    **Maria (to group):**

    “…Are you *kidding* me? How did you even find me?!”

    **Fan Club Leader:**

    “We’ve been tracking your energy since Day One. Your aura is *distinct.* Also, we saw your mom’s Instagram story.”

    **Mom (from phone):**

    “Oops.”

    **Fan Club Member 2:** *(tearing up)*

    “You can’t leave! We made a *fan club*! With bylaws! And a group chat! And a shared Pinterest board of your best foam art!”

    **Maria:** *(deadpan)*

    “You… made a *fan club*… for a *barista*?”

    **Fan Club Leader:**

    “Yes! We meet every Tuesday to reenact your most iconic orders! Last week, we did ‘The Grande Oat Milk Incident of ‘23’ — it was *powerful.*”

    **Maria:**

    “That was me spilling a latte on a guy who yelled at me for ‘lack of foam integrity.’”

    **Fan Club Member 3:**

    “It was *cinematic.*”

    **Maria:** *(to phone)*

    “Mom, I love you, but I’m hanging up now. This is worse than I thought.”

    **[She hangs up. Stands. Faces the group.]**

    **Maria:**

    “Look. I appreciate… whatever this is. But I’m *leaving.* It’s *planned.* I have a new job. A new city. A *life.*”

    **Fan Club Leader:** *(kneels dramatically)*

    “Then take us with you! We’ll serve coffee! We’ll clean the machines! We’ll *become cats!*”

    **Maria:**

    “No. That’s not how any of this works.”

    **[Beat. She looks at them — not angry. Just… confused.]**

    **Maria:**

    “Wait. Let me get this straight.

    You made a *fan club*…

    with meetings…

    and merch…

    and *reenactments*…

    …instead of just… *talking to me?*”

    **Fan Club Member 2:**

    “But… we didn’t want to *bother* you.”

    **Maria:** *(throws hands up)*

    “**You’re bothering me *more* now!** You showed up with a *spotlight* and a *megaphone*! You’re literally blocking the sun!”

    **Fan Club Leader:**

    “We thought this was the only way to show our love!”

    **Maria:** *(softens)*

    “Guys… you could’ve just… texted me.

    Called me.

    Said, ‘Hey, I’ll miss your coffee. Want to grab a drink before I go?’

    Or, I don’t know — *be friends with me as a person*?”

    **Fan Club Member 3:**

    “But… what if you said no?”

    **Maria:**

    “Then it’s no! That’s *fine!* Rejection is part of being human!

    But you don’t build a *cult* around someone’s latte art and call it love!”

    **[Silence. They look at each other. The megaphone lowers.]**

    **Fan Club Leader:** *(quietly)*

    “So… you’re saying… we could’ve just… *t

    alked*?”

    **Maria:**

    “Yes.

    And guess what?

    I gave out my number.

    I said ‘stay in touch.’

    I didn’t vanish.

    I’m not *dead.*

    I’m moving to Portland.

    Which, newsflash — has *phones.* And *trains.* And *Wi-Fi.*”

    **Fan Club Member 2:**

    “So… no more reenactments?”

    **Maria:**

    “No more reenactments.

    But…

    **[CONTINUES]**

    **Maria:**

    “…But if you *really* miss me…

    you can text.

    Call.

    Or — and I can’t believe I’m saying this —

    come visit.

    There’s a café.

    There are cats.

    There’s me, making coffee that’s *slightly* less perfect than you remember.”

    **Fan Club Leader:** *(hesitant)*

    “And… you won’t think we’re weird?”

    **Maria:**

    “Oh, I’ll *definitely* think you’re weird.

    But now?

    You’ll be *my* weird.

    And that’s different.”

    **[Beat. They look at each other. The spotlight vanishes. The megaphone powers down with a sad *beep*.]**

    **Fan Club Member 3:** *(pulls out phone, nervous)*

    “So… can I… add you? Like… as a *contact*? Not a ‘fan listing’?”

    **Maria:** *(smiling, pulls out her phone)*

    “Only if you promise to stop calling my foam art ‘a spiritual journey.’”

    **Fan Club Member 2:**

    “No promises.”

    **[They all slowly pull out their phones. One by one, they add her. A soft *ping* sound plays from each device — like digital fate clicking into place.]**

    **Maria:** *(to Fan Club Leader)*

    “And you? You gonna be okay without reenactments?”

    **Fan Club Leader:** *(sighs, puts away megaphone)*

    “I’ll try. But… can we at least do *one* final scene? It’s my favorite — ‘The Day You Remembered My Name After Three Weeks of Silence.’ It’s *very* emotional.”

    **Maria:**

    “No.”

    **Fan Club Leader:** *(already striking a pose)*

    “**FLASHBACK!** The air was thick with uncertainty—”

    **Maria:** *(grabs his shoulder)*

    “I will *block* you.”

    **[He shuts up. She laughs.]**

    ---

    **[Later. Maria sits back on the bench. Her phone buzzes. It’s her mom.]**

    **Maria:** *(answers)*

    “Hey, Mom. Crisis averted. The fan club disbanded. Mostly. One of them’s still lurking near the bus stop, but I think he just wants directions.”

    **Mom:**

    “Good. Now, about that cat café — do they need a part-time accountant who also does interpretive dance during breaks?”

    **Maria:** *(grinning)*

    “Mom, are you trying to *join* my new life?”

    **Mom:**

    “I’m trying to *talk to you.* Is that so wrong?”

    **Maria:** *(softly)*

    “No.

    That’s… perfect.”

    ---

    **[Final shot: Maria walks down the sidewalk, coffee in hand (from a different shop — “just to test competition”). Her phone buzzes again. A text from “Glenn – Coffee Bro.”]**

    > **Glenn:**

    > “Heard the fan club tried to stop you with a spotlight.

    > Very dramatic.

    > Also: my toast joke got a laugh at open mic night.

    > Told you I’d improve.”

    **Maria smiles. Types back:**

    > **Maria:**

    > “Still bad.

    > But I’m proud.

    > P.S. Portland’s not that far.

    > Train tickets on me.

    > Bring your sad croissant.”

    **[She pockets the phone. Keeps walking. The sun’s out. No spotlight. No fanfare. Just her. Moving forward.]**

    **[TEXT ON SCREEN:]**

    > *“You don’t need a fan club to matter.

    > You just need one person

    > who texts you

    > when they remember

    > you hate oat milk.”*

    **[FADE OUT.]**

    **[END.]**