Okay, babes, y’all are not even ready for this. So buckle up your oat milk lattes ‘cause what I’m about to tell you is not your basic creepy Starbucks shift. Like, I wish I could tell you this was just another 'Karen demanding her macchiato be extra hot but not too hot' situation. But no. This was some 'Would you like an exorcism with that?' level nightmare.
So, picture this: it’s a dead (pun fully intended, babes) Tuesday night, and here I am, closing at Starbucks. You know, living the glamorous ‘influencer-in-the-making but also gotta pay rent’ life. Hashtag girlboss, but also hashtag why. And yeah, I’m ready to roast a few annoying customers with a fire dance trend or two.
I’m already mentally clocked out, planning my Netflix-and-chill (solo edition, ‘cause, like, priorities), when BAM—outta freakin’ nowhere, I hear it. This tiny little clink-clink from across the store. You know that sound—like cups just vibing on the shelves, minding their own business… until they decide it's time to star in their own paranormal TikTok. Yeah, that noise."
I turn around all slow, and y’all—THE DISPLAY CUPS ARE MOVING. Not like, “oh no, a breeze knocked them over.” No. These reusable cups are living their best Poltergeist lives, full-on shimmying like they’ve got somewhere to be. And I’m standing there, like, “Girl, I am not in the mood for this.”
I walk over—cool, calm, collected—because like, duh, I’m Bree Baxter and I don’t get freaked over a couple of wobbly cups. Ghosts? Poltergeists? Whatever. I've handled worse in the DMs. Anyway, the AC probably kicked on or something, right?
Wrong. 🙃
As soon as I reach out to fix one of the cups, it YEETS itself off the shelf. I’m talking a full, dramatic slow-mo throwdown. Cup flies across the room, hits the counter, and just lays there, dead. My heart legit skips like three beats, but I keep playing it cool. I mean, this isn’t my first haunted rodeo. I’ve dealt with enough of Karen’s ghostly energy to know when I’m being punked by a vengeful spirit.
Now, logically, a sane person would’ve dipped by now. But logic? Pshh, never met her. And let's be real, I’m not your average person. Plus, I still have bills to pay. So I roll my eyes, pick up the cup, and head back to the register, thinking the worst is over.
LOL, I’m dumb.
I turn back to the counter, ready to finish closing so I can peace out and watch trash TV, when the sound of sloshing coffee stops me dead. And I mean DEAD, y’all. I slowly turn around, and there it is. A whole-ass venti cup of cold brew just… floating. Like, no joke. The cup is straight-up levitating, and it’s shaking like it’s auditioning for the next Ghostbusters movie.
“Bruh. Seriously? We’re doing this?” I whisper, because I can’t even deal right now. My common-sense brain is screaming 'RUN, YOU IDIOT,’ but my TikTok clout brain is like, ‘Oh, honey, we filming this.’
So I grab my iPhone, switch to selfie mode, and start recording because, duh, we’re going viral tonight. “Hey guys, it’s Bree, and um, not to be dramatic or anything, but I think my Starbucks is haunted.” I flip the camera to show the haunted cup, which is now spinning like it’s in some kind of satanic smoothie-making competition. My chat immediately blows up:
“OMG BREE RUN.😬😬”
“HAUNTED STARBIES VIBES LOL.”
“Bruh, this is why I never get iced drinks.”
And I’m like, same, babes, SAME.
But wait, it gets worse.
Then the cup just drops. Like, boom, hits the counter and splashes cold brew everywhere. But guess what? The coffee isn’t just chilling. No, no. It starts moving. Crawling across the counter, like it’s ALIVE. And I’m over here, mop in one hand, phone in the other, heart in my throat, whispering to myself, “This is not worth $15 an hour.”
But it’s too late. I’m fully in it now. The lights start flickering, because obviously, this haunted Starbucks is going for the full paranormal horror aesthetic. Flickering lights, cold air, the whole shebang.
I spin around—like, fast—and of course, there’s nothing there. Just my reflection in the espresso machine, looking like I’ve seen a ghost, which, let’s be real, I probably have.
Thump.
I freeze.
Thump. Thump.
And then, through the flickering, I see her.
Karen. Karen?? Are you serious right now? Is this the same ghost Karen haunting me over a messed-up drink order from, like, three weeks ago? Is this my life now?
Yep, freakin' Ghost Karen is back, looking like she just crawled out of a seriously bad Yelp review. She’s standing at the far end of the store, all wrinkled and saggy and PISSED OFF. Like, this is the Karen who sends food back three times and still demands a manager. Except this Karen? She’s DEAD. And wearing, I swear to God, a ghostly “Can I speak to the manager?” pin.
“Excuse me,” she says, and her voice is like nails on a chalkboard that’s being scraped by a demon. “I’ve been waiting for my drink.”
My soul? Gone. Evaporated. I’m standing there, desperately grabbing hold of a mop like it’s a weapon (spoiler alert: it’s not). My heart rate is going full-on Olympic sprint, and Ghost Karen is still just staring at me.
“Okay, Bree, you’re a bad bitch, you got this,” I whisper to myself, clutching my mop. I swallow, trying to be brave (for the TikTok likes, obviously), and manage to squeak out, “Um, the store’s closed, babe.”
Big mistake.
Ghost Karen’s face twists into this horrifying grin, her lips stretching waaaaay too wide, like someone hit the wrong filter on Snapchat. “You got my order wrong,” she hisses, taking a step closer.
“Uh, no?” I laugh nervously. “I definitely don’t remember serving dead people today.” Bad joke, Bree. Very bad joke.
Before I can react, the cups behind me explode off the shelves. I mean, they go FLYING. The coffee machine starts steaming, and the air smells like burnt milk and bad vibes. My whole body’s trembling, but I’m not about to let a dead Karen ruin my chances of going viral.
I hold up my phone, trying to film through my shaking hands. “Okay, y’all, this is officially NOT OKAY. Starbucks Karen is PISSED, and I’m out—”
Then, right in front of me, Ghost Karen’s form flickers like bad Wi-Fi. And when she flickers back in, she’s right there. RIGHT. FREAKING. THERE. Inches from my face, and she’s whispering in this cold, dead voice, “You messed up my macchiato.”
And that’s when I fully noped out.
I scream. Like, a full-blown, blood-curdling scream that could win me an Oscar. I fling the mop at her like it’s gonna do something (spoiler: it doesn’t), and I BOOK IT for the front door. No amount of TikTok clout is worth this.
But guess what? Karen ain’t done with me.
I’m fumbling with my keys, shaking so bad I’m dropping everything, and as soon as I get outside, I whip around to make sure the door’s locked. But when I look back through the glass? SHE’S STILL THERE. Standing at the counter, smiling that creepy ghost Karen smile, mouthing something like “Come back here.”
Uh, no thanks, Satan. I’m out.
I jump in my car, slam the door, and just sit there for a second, trying to catch my breath. My heart’s beating like I just ran a marathon, and I’m telling myself, “It’s fine, Bree. You just need sleep. It’s fine. You’ll laugh about this later.”
But then, my phone pings.
I look down, and there’s a new notification from the Starbucks app.
“Your order is ready.”
My whole body is in fight-or-flight mode, and I’m two seconds away from hurling my phone into the Pacific, but then the radio flickers on. And I swear to god, it’s playing elevator music. You know, like the kind Starbucks plays on a loop. But now? It’s like Starbucks after dark—slow, warped, and creepy AF.
And then, through the static, I hear Ghost Karen’s voice again.
“Breeee… your order is ready.”
I look in my rearview mirror, and there she is. Sitting in my backseat, all shadowy and smirking like she’s about to leave a 1-star review on my life.
I should be scared, but my first thought? Oh my God, this video is gonna SLAP on TikTok, y’all. But also, my second thought? I’m about to die. So... priorities?
Y’all, I am DONE done. If anyone knows an exorcist with good Yelp reviews, DM me. Because I am not clocking in for my next shift.
Comments (10)
See all