A brand-new intern who'd been here all of five minutes had overheard one sentence at a department dinner and decided she was in charge of everyone's lifestyle.
I had zero interest in engaging with someone like that. I'd already shut it down in the chat. But the second lunch break ended, Mercedes Brady came sauntering over to my desk with a cup in hand, her face a picture of wide-eyed innocence.
"Matilda, you saw the message in the group chat, right?"
"The afternoon coffee run is all yours from now on. You make so much more than the rest of us. This kind of money is nothing to you."
She said it loud enough for the entire floor to hear. The moment the words left her mouth, every head in the vicinity swiveled toward me, eyes gleaming with the unmistakable thrill of spectators at a car wreck.
"Oh, and it needs to be ready by 3 PM."
"Milk tea, 70% sugar. Coffee has to be made with oat milk. And don't cheap out on the pastries. Minimum $50 a head."
"I've already collected everyone's preferences. I'll send you the list in a bit."
She rattled it all off like she was spending Monopoly money, not mine.