The day I supervised Mom's matcha and reminded Camila who runs this place

Camila had the steamer ready before we even walked through the door. That's what I call service.

We've been coming to the coffee shop on 10th and 41st for three months now. Same routine every time. Mom orders her matcha. I sit by the counter and watch Camila work. She knows I'm supervising. The whole operation could fall apart without proper oversight.

Today felt different though. Camila was moving slower. The milk steamer was making weird sounds. And she kept looking at me like she needed backup. That's when I knew I had to get closer.

I hopped up and put my paws on the counter. Perfect view of the matcha situation. The powder was the right color. The milk temperature looked good. But Camila's technique on the pour was off. I gave her my serious face. The one that means 'I believe in you but we need to focus.'

She laughed and reached over to pet my head. 'Lucky, what do you think?' she asked. I wagged once. Approval granted. The matcha smelled like grass and cream and Camila's vanilla hand lotion. Mom's favorite combination.

Then Camila reached into the treat jar. The good treats. Not the basic ones by the register. The peanut butter ones from the special container behind the espresso machine. She knows I earn these through quality supervision.

Mom got her matcha. I got my treat. Camila got my professional assessment that everything was up to standard. Another successful morning at our coffee shop.

Same time tomorrow, Camila. The matcha operation needs me.