HPDBC Chapter 157 Coffee Shop
Chapter 157 Coffee Shop
Chapter 157 Coffee Shop (Bonus Chapter for Monthly Tickets 3/12)
Saturday morning.
The fog in Pittsburgh was lighter than usual, and sunlight pierced through the clouds, shining on the asphalt roads.
Leo Wallace pushed open the apartment door.
He pulled out a gray hoodie from the very bottom of his wardrobe; it was the garment he wore most often before he became mayor and when he was still struggling with student loans.
He pulled up his hood, covering half his face, put his hands in his pockets, and walked into the morning street.
There were no police escorts, no Ethan babbling incessantly in your ear with his schedule, and no media cameras.
At that moment, he was just an ordinary citizen among the 300,000 residents of Pittsburgh.
He walked slowly along the street.
He had walked this road countless times; he could count the number of potholes on the ground with his eyes closed.
But today, the feel under my feet is a little different.
The broken paving stones that had once caused him to sprain his ankle were gone, and the roadside drainage ditches had been cleaned up, with no more standing water or floating garbage.
Leo looked up, his gaze sweeping across the shop windows along the street.
A year ago, this was a microcosm of the city's decline.
Back then, every block you walked through, you could see shops with "closing down for sale" signs.
The glass was covered in dust, and the room was empty except for a few abandoned tables and chairs lying on the floor.
The air was filled with a scent called "despair".
But now, that lifeless gray has been replaced by vibrant colors.
A hardware store that had previously closed down has reopened, with a brand-new banner hanging at the entrance.
Large stock available! Directly supplying construction sites! Opens at 6 AM!
The barbershop next door, which had been empty for a long time, is now packed with people.
The barber's clippers buzzed as he shaved the short hair of several young men who were about to start their jobs.
What surprised Leo the most were the notices posted on the windows.
It used to be a "clearance sale," now it's an "urgent hire."
A handwritten signboard was pasted on the window of a car repair shop: "Skilled auto mechanic needed! Weekly pay! Overtime pay 1.5 times! Starting today!"
On a roadside utility pole, a logistics company posted a job advertisement: "Hiring heavy truck drivers! Licensed drivers can start working immediately! $1000 signing bonus! Room and board included!"
These government documents are simple and direct, with even somewhat illegible handwriting, but the information they convey is more powerful than any official government document.
There is a shortage of people here.
Labor is needed here.
There's money to be made here.
Leo stopped and stood at a crossroads.
He watched as a pickup truck full of workers drove past, the people in the truck bed talking and laughing loudly, holding breakfast in their hands, their faces glowing with a long-lost rosy hue.
That's the kind of expression you only have when you have something to look forward to.
Leo continued walking forward.
His destination was a coffee shop two blocks away.
Grind daily.
That's where the story begins.
It was at that store that manager Dave gave him the envelope containing severance pay. That was the lowest point in his life, and the starting point of all his crazy plans.
Leo stood across the street from the cafe.
He could hardly recognize the store.
My memory of "Daily Grinding" is of a crowded place, but that crowding carries a suffocating sense of desolation.
Back then, the shop was packed with college students using their laptops to access the internet, or white-collar workers who had just lost their jobs and could sit for an entire afternoon revising their resumes with just the cheapest Americano.
But now, the long queues stretch from the counter all the way to the street.
Most of them were wearing dark blue overalls covered in dust, safety boots, and their safety helmets still on.
They are construction workers at the South District construction site, stevedores at the inland port terminal, and truck drivers for the transport fleet.
Holding banknotes, they loudly urged the people in front of them to hurry up.
Leo pulled his hat down low and blended into the group.
He was enveloped by the surrounding noise.
"Hey, Joey, I heard your team won a prize last week?" A burly man standing in front of Leo turned around and shouted to the people behind him.
"Take it." The man behind him chuckled. "Not much, three hundred dollars each, just enough for my daughter to get a new phone."
"That's really good. Our contractor said that we need to meet the deadline next week, so we'll be working overtime all night and he'll pay us double."
I'm going to take a gamble and replace that old, broken refrigerator at home.
"Come on, can your old back take it? Don't spend all your earnings on the hospital."
"What are you afraid of? We have insurance now. The union said the other day that we have full accident insurance. As long as you get injured on the construction site, you won't have to pay a penny. It will all be reimbursed."
Leo listened to the conversation with his head down.
There were no grand political terms, no empty words like "revival" or "rise".
Only a cell phone, a refrigerator, insurance, and overtime pay.
These mundane, everyday words are what make up real life.
The line moved slowly, and Leo finally squeezed into the store.
The air inside the store was scorching hot.
Behind the counter, Dave was so busy he barely had time to breathe.
He was wearing a sweat-soaked T-shirt, operating two coffee machines simultaneously, while also having to deal with the constant ringing of food delivery calls.
"We want five large Americanos! Ten beef sandwiches! Hurry, the convoy is about to leave!"
A man who looked like a foreman was slamming his fist on the table in front of the counter.
"Coming! Almost done!" Dave shouted back, packing the food with lightning speed, more than twice as fast as before.
Leo got to the counter.
Dave didn't even look up, still holding the ringing landline in his hand.
"Please speak after grinding daily."
Dave held the receiver between his shoulder and reached for Leo's money.
"What? You're not coming?"
Dave roared into the phone.
"Tom, we agreed! Two people have to cover for us today! This morning's customer traffic is equivalent to three days' worth, I'm exhausted!"
The person on the other end of the phone seemed to say something that made Dave break down.
"Think the salary is too low? Seven dollars and fifty cents? That's from last year's almanac!"
Dave grabbed a rag and scrubbed the countertop hard.
"I'm offering you eighteen dollars! Eighteen dollars an hour! Breakfast included! Are you in?"
"What? That logistics warehouse next door is giving you a discount of twenty-two?"
Dave paused for a moment, then swore.
"Damn it, have these warehouse owners gone mad? Trying to steal customers from the coffee shop?"
Dave angrily hung up the phone.
He looked up, his face flushed, beads of sweat streaming down his cheeks.
He looked at the customer in front of him, who was wearing a hoodie and had his head down, and didn't recognize him at all.
His mind is now filled with orders and the anxiety of not being able to recruit people.
"What would you like to order?" Dave asked gruffly. "Hurry up, there are people in line behind us."
Leo looked up, revealing a pair of smiling eyes.
"A cup of black coffee, Dave."
Leo handed over a five-dollar bill.
Dave's hand froze for a moment, realizing the voice sounded familiar.
He stared at those eyes for two seconds without thinking.
That familiar gaze caused his brain, which was already overflowing with orders, to short-circuit for a moment.
"Who are you----"
Dave's mouth dropped open.
Leo raised a finger to his lips, making a shushing gesture.
"Shhh."
Leo smiled.
"Business is good, Dave."
Dave froze, nearly dropping his coffee cup.
He looked at Leo, then at the long line of people outside.
Dave's eyes suddenly felt a little hot.
He hurriedly took a cup of coffee, making sure it was twice as strong, and then handed it to Leo with both hands.
"Take it."
Dave's voice trembled slightly.
"This drink is on me."
"And also, um—thank you."
Dave's voice was soft and drowned out by the noise of the surrounding workers, but Leo heard it clearly.
Leo took the coffee and nodded.
"Get back to work, Dave. Don't keep your customers waiting."
Leo, coffee in hand, turned and squeezed through the crowd.
He walked out of the coffee shop and stood on the street corner.
He watched the figures carrying coffee, striding towards the construction site.
Their spines are straight, no longer like a year ago, with their necks hunched and their eyes darting around.
Now, they have jobs and earn money.
They knew that as long as they put in the effort, they would receive their paycheck next Friday.
They dare to speak loudly to their bosses, dare to switch jobs because of low wages, and dare to plan a barbecue on the weekend.
This is dignity.
Dignity is the money in your pocket, the bargaining chip in negotiations, and the confidence to say "no" at any time.
"Mr. President," Leo whispered in his mind, "did you see that?"
Roosevelt's voice rang out.
The giant who once led America out of the Great Depression spoke with a sense of satisfaction.
"I see it, Leo."
"Listen to this sound."
Roosevelt said.
"This is the sound of this social machine meshing together and starting to run again."
"You did it."
"You didn't give them welfare; you didn't turn them into beggars waiting to be fed."
"You gave them something more important than money."
"You gave them value as laborers."
"That Dave, he's complaining about not being able to hire people, he's complaining about the high wages."
Roosevelt let out a soft chuckle.
"This is the most beautiful complaint I've ever heard."
"This society has finally come back to life."
Leo took a sip of coffee.
Bitter, scalding hot, yet with a sweet aftertaste.
He doesn't need anyone to thank him.
Looking at this street.
Looking at the lights on in these shops, the shop windows plastered with job postings, and the faces covered in sweat from their busy work.
This is the greatest reward for him.
This is what he got in return for selling his soul, making a deal with the devil, and wallowing in the mire.
This deal was worthwhile.
Leo threw the empty paper cup into a roadside trash can.
He pulled his hood up tighter and rejoined the crowd.
He also needs to go to the city hall.
There was still a lot of trouble waiting for him, but he was walking very lightly now.
Because he knew that the city had awakened.
And the person who awakened it is walking on the same street as his people.