get tangled up in my gender-specific pronouns. Better switch to names. ‘Mitchell will first introduce himself, and then begin.’
‘Remember,’ I went on, ‘this barista is not only responsible for creating twelve exquisite drinks, but also for the table-setting and presentation to the judges. All this, while keeping his workstation perfectly orderly and clean. And all,’ I paused for effect, ‘in just fifteen minutes.’
I turned dramatically to the camera. ‘Will this barista stand the test?’ I boomed in my best reality-show voice.
There was a thud behind me, accompanied by the sound of breaking china.
‘He’s dead,’ Sophie screamed.
I looked at her.
Henry applauded.
Poor Mitchell opted out, even after we’d revived him.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have been so dramatic,’ I moaned to Kate as we took the equivalent of a TV time-out.
‘Are you kidding?’ Kate had a huge grin on her face. ‘You were perfect. He was perfect.’
‘He was unconscious, Kate.’
‘Yes, and even before that. The sweat. The deer-in-the-headlights look when he forgot the ice. Great TV.’ She pumped her fist in the air.
She was right, it was great TV. It was also the humiliation of a human being. I pointed that out.
‘I know,’ she said delightedly. ‘Thank God we got releases.’
‘We will not use that footage if he objects,’ I said.
‘Says who?’ Kate demanded.
‘Says me.’
‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Or what?’
‘I’ll tell you what—’
This mature exchange was interrupted by Jill. ‘They’ve cleaned up the stage. Do you want us to start taping again?’
‘Start taping?’ Kate squawked. ‘You mean you didn’t tape the whole―’
I didn’t wait to hear any more.
‘OK,’ I said, picking up my microphone. ‘Let’s get this show back on the road.’
I stepped out on stage. ‘First, let me give you an update. Mitchell is going to be just fine,’ I said. ‘He passed out―’
‘Probably low blood sugar,’ Sophie offered up from the front row.
‘More likely too much coffee,’ Henry countered.
‘Whatever it was,’ I said pointedly, ‘Mitchell is OK now. And the show must go on. Please help me welcome our next contestant: Janalee LaRoche of HotWired.’
Despite the fact she was married to LaRoche – or maybe in sympathy for the fact – Janalee got a big hand. Amy was watching from the audience with Davy on her lap. I assumed she and Janalee would change custody when Amy competed.
Even with the shock of recently finding out her store had been torched, not to mention having the barista before her hit the floor, Janalee was the consummate professional.
‘As you see,’ she told the crowd twenty-eight minutes later, as she spooned froth on the top of her final specialty drink, ‘I’ve used fresh orange zest and that, combined with the espresso and heavy cream of my drink, brings back memories of the ice cream pops of our youth. I’ve taken great pains to make sure that while the espresso is the base of the drink, it doesn’t overpower the more delicate cream and orange flavors.’
‘I see you’ve chosen a mug rather than the more delicate bone china for your presentation,’ I said, doing my part as both emcee and interviewer. ‘Is there a reason for that?’
‘This is not a delicate drink,’ she said, placing a curl of orange peel on the top of the froth. ‘It’s a playful drink and that’s the way I wanted to display it. Hence –’ she placed a Popsicle stick in the cup as a stirrer and moved the drink to the presentation table with a flourish – ‘voila.’
The crowd applauded wildly.
Even without my looking at Henry and Sophie.
It was half-time of the competition and things were going smoothly. Better than smoothly.
‘Wow,’ I said, as Antonio re-supplied the competitors for the second half, ‘people are really into this. I thought they were going to take my head off when I said we were going to break.’
‘Everyone certainly needed it,’
‘Remember,’ I went on, ‘this barista is not only responsible for creating twelve exquisite drinks, but also for the table-setting and presentation to the judges. All this, while keeping his workstation perfectly orderly and clean. And all,’ I paused for effect, ‘in just fifteen minutes.’
I turned dramatically to the camera. ‘Will this barista stand the test?’ I boomed in my best reality-show voice.
There was a thud behind me, accompanied by the sound of breaking china.
‘He’s dead,’ Sophie screamed.
I looked at her.
Henry applauded.
Poor Mitchell opted out, even after we’d revived him.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have been so dramatic,’ I moaned to Kate as we took the equivalent of a TV time-out.
‘Are you kidding?’ Kate had a huge grin on her face. ‘You were perfect. He was perfect.’
‘He was unconscious, Kate.’
‘Yes, and even before that. The sweat. The deer-in-the-headlights look when he forgot the ice. Great TV.’ She pumped her fist in the air.
She was right, it was great TV. It was also the humiliation of a human being. I pointed that out.
‘I know,’ she said delightedly. ‘Thank God we got releases.’
‘We will not use that footage if he objects,’ I said.
‘Says who?’ Kate demanded.
‘Says me.’
‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Or what?’
‘I’ll tell you what—’
This mature exchange was interrupted by Jill. ‘They’ve cleaned up the stage. Do you want us to start taping again?’
‘Start taping?’ Kate squawked. ‘You mean you didn’t tape the whole―’
I didn’t wait to hear any more.
‘OK,’ I said, picking up my microphone. ‘Let’s get this show back on the road.’
I stepped out on stage. ‘First, let me give you an update. Mitchell is going to be just fine,’ I said. ‘He passed out―’
‘Probably low blood sugar,’ Sophie offered up from the front row.
‘More likely too much coffee,’ Henry countered.
‘Whatever it was,’ I said pointedly, ‘Mitchell is OK now. And the show must go on. Please help me welcome our next contestant: Janalee LaRoche of HotWired.’
Despite the fact she was married to LaRoche – or maybe in sympathy for the fact – Janalee got a big hand. Amy was watching from the audience with Davy on her lap. I assumed she and Janalee would change custody when Amy competed.
Even with the shock of recently finding out her store had been torched, not to mention having the barista before her hit the floor, Janalee was the consummate professional.
‘As you see,’ she told the crowd twenty-eight minutes later, as she spooned froth on the top of her final specialty drink, ‘I’ve used fresh orange zest and that, combined with the espresso and heavy cream of my drink, brings back memories of the ice cream pops of our youth. I’ve taken great pains to make sure that while the espresso is the base of the drink, it doesn’t overpower the more delicate cream and orange flavors.’
‘I see you’ve chosen a mug rather than the more delicate bone china for your presentation,’ I said, doing my part as both emcee and interviewer. ‘Is there a reason for that?’
‘This is not a delicate drink,’ she said, placing a curl of orange peel on the top of the froth. ‘It’s a playful drink and that’s the way I wanted to display it. Hence –’ she placed a Popsicle stick in the cup as a stirrer and moved the drink to the presentation table with a flourish – ‘voila.’
The crowd applauded wildly.
Even without my looking at Henry and Sophie.
It was half-time of the competition and things were going smoothly. Better than smoothly.
‘Wow,’ I said, as Antonio re-supplied the competitors for the second half, ‘people are really into this. I thought they were going to take my head off when I said we were going to break.’
‘Everyone certainly needed it,’
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