"Dark roast with cream for Mr. Stanford!" A young man called out as he set a paper cup of coffee down at the pickup counter. He spotted a small puddle of water on said counter and grabbed a wash rag to wipe it up. 
"That's an interesting accent you got there." The customer, Mr. Stanford, said as he came up to get his cup of coffee. He smiled and dropped a tip into the jar. "Where are you from?"

"Military family," The barista said with a polite smile. The lie was so well practiced that it went completely undetected. "I traveled all over when I was a kid. I picked up a few things here and there."

"Oh, that's pretty cool. Well, have a nice day."

"Thank you sir, you too." 

It had taken a while to get these types of transactions down pat. Humans were such finicky creatures, with so many social ques. The fine details of a simple conversation between strangers were difficult for a complete foreigner. But Cal managed to pick up on it fairly quick. The English language itself had been just as hard. 

He was pretty proud of himself. He managed to hold down a job, live what he thought was a normal life on Earth, and even made a few friends with whom he could enjoy the traditions of "Thirsty Thursday" with. Cal hummed quietly as he cleaned off the counters, then went to go wipe down tables. Yes, life was good here. 

His headset rang as someone pulled up to the drive-thru. Cal quickly pressed the intercom button to take their order. "Hi! Welcome to Yo Jo Coffee, what can I get for you today?" He said in an overly pleasant tone, as his managers had trained him to, and made his way back behind the counter.