Another best of

I was rolling in a bit on the late side this morning & still had tons of stuff to do when customers started coming in. Not a big deal, mind, but difficult to juggle the usual opening tasks with an influx of customers as well.

In walks Willy Loman. The type, you know, with a little extra confidence pinned to his jacket. He was round in the middle and tall. I'd imagine he orders much of his clothing by catalog. Additionally there was, of course, the gray ponytail. He came in with a backpack over his shoulder, and I began to reminisce about Sneaky Santa. A short while later, the backpack and jacket came off to reveal a dingy white t-shirt and suspenders. I had just finished paying the milkman when he walked in. As he approached, he held up the OPEN/CLOSED sign and proclaimed, "Do you need this?" It hangs from a little suction cup, which he had also removed.
"I don't need that."
"Are you open?"
"We are... I don't need that back here."
He ordered a coffee and offered that he would be back once I'd gotten things together a bit.
"You a new place?"
"We've been here a little over a year now."
"You know in the big city at the STAR-BUCKS [I don't know how else to iterate how he pronounced it, almost as if I'd never heard the word before] they have CDs right up front & they just pop 'em in with all that music already loaded up."
"Yeah I uh... I pick the music here generally." [I'd just put a CD in, the soundtrack to There Will Be Blood] "They used to send us these pop CDs, Cafe Music or whatever, which were just terrible. We never played them, and I don't know why they ever started sending them."
"The city I'm from... In Boston the streets are just paved with CDs!"
"Uh huh..."
Anyway he was a pretty nice guy I guess, just quirky as all hell. It was like nobody had ever had a conversation about media before.

I've been asked a few times now what I like to drink. Back before I worked in a coffee shop I'd order all the sweet-ass milkshake drinks or get a flavor in drip coffee. To be fair, the coffee around campus was piss poor. Generally I just drank soda. On my way to class in the mornings I'd pick up a soda or sometimes a Sobe thing to wash down a multi-vitamin. Breakfast! As time went on though, I realized that I liked coffee much better without any sweetener. I mean I've cut a lot of the sugary shit out of my diet since then, but I'm talking about the taste.
These days I mostly drink regular black coffee. If I'm at a place I don't know I'll typically put a splash of whole milk in there too. During the mornings when I work I'll go through maybe... as little as 8oz of coffee or as much as 25oz. Some days when I'm training I get all wired up tasting espresso, too. I can't get into the spitting thing; it reminds me too much of chewing tobacco. Once I mistook a can of spittle for my black cherry soda and wound up hurling into the sink for about half an hour (followed by chugging water & jamming my finger down my throat).
If I'm feeling adventurous I have a couple of standby drinks.

This is an iced americano, for lack of better descriptors. It's a little ice and water with a splash of whole milk. Then I pull a triple ristretto espresso over some cool water (to keep from shocking it on the ice) and put it all together. It's pretty strong at first, since I don't mix it in, but that way the last bit is more manageable.

This is just a slight variation with some frothed milk spooned on top. An iced cappuccino, if you will. If you won't then I don't know what to tell you...

Come get some

A couple of frustrating situations I'd like to relate.

This morning a woman came in whom I didn't recognize. That's not unusual of course. And anyway I can't remember every fuckface that comes in the door. Sometimes I'll have people who will ask for "the usual," but fucked if I know what drink you ordered on one or two other occasions over the period of a few weeks. Okay, well, in this case it became clear she'd been there before (which I'll get to in a second). Things immediately start to go wrong here, so I played it out best I could. I'll admit I'm easily irritated. Let's just get that out of the way. Chances are you do something that annoys me. I'll survive. I do things that annoy me. To other people I mean... not to myself. There are those rare interactions, however, wherein nothing seems to go right.
1. She began by identifying her coffee as the "Peabody" rather than the appropriate "Peaberry." Not that big a deal, right? I nearly corrected her but thought better of it. It was already the third time that mistake had been made today.
2. She produced five whole bean stamp cards, each with roughly two pounds (out of ten) stamped. Surely not the first time I've combined somebody's cards, but this was a record. If you've ever had business cards printed out, you'll know that they can be pricey. Further irked, I still combined the cards & kept my composure.
3. I ask her if she needs anything else, and she declines. After paying, she brings up the complimentary coffee that comes with whole bean purchases. She could have said something when I asked but... well I guess that doesn't matter so much. Thing is, the free coffee comes with a pound or more purchased. She had about 3/4 of a pound. I don't know but... it seems like she would only have waited until the transaction was over if she knew she didn't have enough. Let's suss out how this went, shall we?
Me: I'm sorry; the free 8oz comes with a pound or more. You have about 3/4 pound here.
[I'll mention at this time that it is extremely annoying when people want to try to accumulate their free coffees. That's why we say at the "time of purchase" so it's not so goddamn difficult to complete the transaction. I mean who the fuck is going to keep track of that?]
Cust: Oh, so I'm not a good enough customer?
[see if you can come up with a reasonable answer to this question]
Me: Oh you know... silly policies.
Cust [walking away]: That's why people come to small businesses, right? To avoid all that corporate stuff.
Me: Mmmm...

Alright, so who the fuck are you then? You've obviously bought coffee here before, but I don't know you. You expect something for free because...
1. You're a regular customer.
2. We're a small business.
Do either of those make sense? I just... can't get my head around it.

Another thing, which happened yesterday, is another sticky one. I've written about bums before (this city's got 'em). As far as vagrants go, this guy wasn't so bad. I was told a bit later that he was known in nearby businesses as "Sneaky Santa." I suppose his beard was reminiscent, but he seemed a bit to decrepit to pull off anything sneaky.
SS might have been sitting at a table out front, but I believe it's more likely he was simply walking by. A customer decided he "looked like he needed a cup of coffee" and bought one for him. Congratulations, fuckwit! Your $1.40 has bought you a feeling of self-satisfaction that will keep you smug for the rest of the goddamn day! Meanwhile, I am given the opportunity to express my goodwill for the next six hours. Sweet! I can't ask him to leave because... well I guess he's sort of a customer. He sat there at a table inside, smelling of his salty-sweet self, making awkward eye contact with every hapless customer who walked in the door. On the plus side, I got to enjoy a range of reactions to his presence such as eye-averting fear and short-lived pity. From time to time he tried to make conversation, but I was unable to glean more than the following:
1. It's hot outside.
2. Barbers shave with a straight razor.
3. Our company roasts its own coffee in a small town which he has visited (or possibly grew up in).
4. He also has a Bojangles cup.
5. A query: is that sound a television? No. It is, in fact, the radio.
I briefed my replacement on the situation, to which his response was "No more refills for him!" Well played, friend. Well played indeed. I grew worried that he would reemerge today, but he has not (so far). Perhaps the heat, in conjunction with a scorching hot diuretic, killed him.

A special thanks to Wikipedia and Google image search for making the unnecessary hyperlinks possible.

Coffee con leche

I've spoken about the vague things that happen across long periods of working at a coffee shop. Sometimes, many of those things culminate in a single morning to remind me of how annoying (in petty ways) people can be. Monday this week was one of those! None of these are major offenses, mind, but I just thought I'd show how ridiculous I can be.
1. Asking me "What's good today?"
Uh... the coffee? This might work at a restaurant where there are specials or catches of the day or whatever, but we have two coffees. Do you want one of those coffees? Do you want the one that I like? No, I don't know what the hell you mean. I suppose it's meant to be nice, but let's face it that there just aren't that many choices. The order wound up being a mocha. Surprise! And yeah, it's pretty much the same as it was yesterday and last week and when we first opened. It's a mocha. Then sure, it's good today.
2. Speaking Spanglish.
Children who learn two languages sometimes blend the two when they are looking for a word that doesn't come to mind immediately in the primary languages. Interesting stuff! When an English-speaking adult does it, though, it says "I don't speak Spanish very well." I can't really iterate what I find irritating about this, but maybe you too find the phrase "Over on the counter there they have uh... leche" grating as well.
3. Ignoring the children.
Left to their own devices, 2 year olds will yell, throw shit around, and injure themselves. Also, not responding to their "Mommy" cries will not eventually yield silence. They're gonna keep doing it. These two were throwing a cell phone to the ground, picking it back up, and throwing it again. It took a dozen of these gleeful tosses before anything was said, and even then it was a "Now, now..." kind of affair.
4. MAWDS (Middle-Aged Woman Dance Syndrome).
The quickest way to induce symptoms of this syndrome is to play the Beatles. Otherwise ordinary, whole-milk fearing ladies will gyrate casually, perhaps recalling a sock hop prior to when their first child was conceived. Together we can end MAWDS. Currently the only cure is playing unlistenable music, but a variety of sleeper holds have been found to incapacitate the suffering party until the offending song has passed.
5. Requiring a ludicrous number of vessels for baked goods.
A plate for each item and a bag for the remainder some time later. It's not that I'm all that particular about waste but... come on. You know, reduce your carbon footprint or some shit, I dunno.
6. Interrupting me while I'm answering a question.
I don't really care if I'm interrupted during inane chatter. I was asked what coffee we were serving, and I began, "It's a blend of the Sumatra with the-"
"OH! Sumatra! Hey, it's the Sumatra."

Perhaps it will not surprise you at this point to discover that all of these were from the same person.

I'm not your...

It's no new phenomenon that hosers will use words that make others cringe while thinking themselves clever or... I don't know... hip? You know there was that guy in the 19th century who called everybody "guv'na" and everyone else was all, "Yeah, alright man, just because we're having tea together doesn't give you license to talk like an asshole." Or when you're time traveling to prevent an imminent apocalypse and you keep getting "Og no like boomstick!" and you're like, "Come on Og, all your friends are calling it a shotgun... and how about some verbs every now and then? I didn't spend all that time teaching you English so you could talk like a stereotype." I hate that!

I was reminded of this problem just this morning when a guy called me "Chief." As in, "Make it a medium, chief." He got the coffee, yeah, but he also got a glare of well-masked incredulity. The urge to return fire is fairly intense. "Enjoy the coffee, Ace!" I've come up with a way to tell if the nickname you're about to apply to a complete stranger is inappropriate. Consider if you would use the same word in the following scenarios:
1. Your eight year-old gets his first hit in T-Ball
2. Your 94 year-old relative is having war flashbacks (you're not being an asshole or anything; you're just helping him cope)
3. A fellow trucker gives you a thumbs up when you drive past
4. When playing kickball with friends, somebody completely whiffs on a slow pitch ("Good hustle though, Tiger!")
5. You're trying to kill the mood when your partner wants sex and you don't
6. You're naming your new puppy

Here's a rough list of offending names:
-Chief*
-Buddy*
-Friend*
-Brotha
-Pal*
-Partner*
-Cowboy
-Ace
-Tiger
-Sport*
-Champ*
-Li'l man*
-Scooter (actually this was my parents' nickname for me as a child)
-Dude-a-rino
-Boy*
-Playa*
-Killa
-Rockstar*
-Superstar
-Pimp
-Chump
-Bra (there was a plumber in Hillsborough who used this word at least once in every sentence)
*I have been called this by customers or maintenance workers, in earnest

Nicknames are not the end of it, sadly.
-"Can I get that latte with a smirch of vanilla?" I can only guess that was meant to be a cross between "pinch" and "smidgen."
-"Does that come with a squirt of chocolate?" Sure, let me just run to the back here...
-"I want it with an extra pump of caramel." Don't we all.
-"Frozen mocha with froyo." I now call this the Froyo Fromo (patent pending).
-"Latte. Super flat, super fly." Okay, the woman who says this actually pulls it off. If anyone else tried it they'd be a tool faster than I could smile awkwardly at them.

As usual, I'll request you put your own examples in the comments. Then, as per usual, no comments will appear. Good on ya, mate!

Other people's bums

One morning over a year ago, I rounded the corner from the parking lot at our location in the small town of Hillsborough. That store opens at 7am, so I imagine it was around 6:30. A police car was stopped in the middle of the street in front of the store. It was a pretty wide street, granted, but he was smack in the middle of it - a car would have had difficulty negotiating his presence in either direction. As I approached, he glided slowly forward. It was still dark enough that I couldn't see into the vehicle, but I could feel his eyes on my back as I unlocked the front door.

Hours passed, and I had forgotten about the brief incident. I was unnerved, but the pace of the store that morning had taken precedent. The afternoon approached. At this time the store was quite slow, and a lone customer approached the counter - a southern man in his 50s who worked at the Fish and Game store just next door. He asked if I had heard about the events that morning. At that point I did not even recall the officer. Little did I know the preceding events had occurred well before my arrival at the store...

The manager or owner or whatever of this F&G store got there around 5am every morning for... whatever reason, and so did the baker of the French patisserie. The F&G dude was going about his usual morning business (of gutting fish? fucked if I know), and his wife was at the front of the store. A scrawny black man (whom my storyteller identified as a drug addict) approached the woman and began harassing her. From what I understand, he was soliciting money (or possibly sex? Again, I dunno). F&G guy took offense. He yelled at the man to vacate, but things only escalated. F&G kept a shotgun in the back room (of course), which he moved to retrieve, wife in tow. Upon returning, he found the handgun and camera missing from the cab of his truck along with the aggressor. He phoned the police...

I don't know how much time passed in the interim; neither do I know if our store was open for any of this story. The addict (which will be later corroborated) was picked up trying to sell the gun at a pawn shop in another town. How he managed to cover that much ground so quickly... I couldn't say. My guess would have to be running like a guy being chased by a redneck with a shotgun. Crazy fucker was identified and taken to holding. Therein, the ranking officer at the time decided he didn't want some crack addict (thereby the corroboration) tearing up his cell. Dr. Wacky was released unto the public.

Were I in such a fix, my first inclination might be to pick another town to terrorize. But then my history of being arrested is decidedly limited. What could have been on his mind? Revenge? Justice? Further theft? He jumped right back into the fire, making a bee-line for the Fish and Game store. Outside, he met the Frenchman out for a smoke break. The heated conversation between these two must have been... amusing in the least. Hearing the commotion, our portly F&G hero drew his weapon (a bat) and leaped into battle. With his already demonstrated proficiency in flight, crazy fucker made haste. To whence? It may surprise you to find that his instincts lead him directly back to the place which had only just released him. His presence preceded by frightened squawks, the Hillsborough officers ushered our addict past just as the charging brute rounded the corner. He was tackled and subdued by a small force of Hillsborough's finest and taken to holding.

Scrawny-ass disappeared, never to be seen again.

The very same day, as I was accustomed, I finished the work week with a trip to the neighboring restaurant. I took a seat at the bar alone. The waitresses, who are usually attentive, were talking amongst themselves behind the bar & stealing glances at a woman opposite my location. She was bent over a nearly emptied glass, her hair covering her face. At the nearest opportunity I asked the waitress what was going on. "She's very drunk," she whispered. I gathered they were afraid she would start trouble or refuse to leave. I further understand (since, anyway) that she was often wont for money to pay for said beverages & could only pay in advance. The woman's figure, though hunched, was not out of shape. I imagine her younger years found her quite attractive. A small commotion drew my attention - she was attempting to dismount the stool. The horrified wait staff was unable to assist in time. As she rose from her knees, her hair fell back from her face. I caught only a glance (I looked away much like one does when not wanting a crush to catch you gazing). Her face had a scrape on it that I can only describe as low-impact road rash. Bizarre. Since I had plenty of storytelling at my fingertips, I moved the image to the back of my mind.

The following week (Monday or Tuesday) I joined my manager for drinks at the Mexican restaurant nearby. As we entered, I spotted the same hunched figure roosting at the bar. I ordered a small pitcher of margaritas for my manager and me. The waiter returned with the drinks but informed us his boss had told him to make sure to check our IDs. I had mine, but she had left hers at the store. We already had the pitcher, so she elected to rush back to the store to retrieve it. We went ahead & ordered before she left. I sat in wait without touching my drink (like the fucking gentleman I am).

Lost in thought, I did not sense the woman approach. Even so, the cloud of liquor was intense. She loomed over my table. I looked up at her and could barely make out a face behind the countless bruises. One eye was swollen shut in an award-winning shiner; the other bulged with fantastic greed at the two salty glasses. I recognized her as the woman from the restaurant - the earlier scrape now framed still more wounds glistening with fresh scabs. She looked as though she had only just stumbled in from a street brawl.

"I'm very sorry to bother you... terribly sorry."
...
"But I saw the bartender making those drinks and I was wondering, can I have one of your drinks?"
"Uh, I'm sorry...," was all I could muster
"See I just got out of jail, and my husband beats me."
...
"And I don't have any money... I was just wondering if I can have one of your drinks there."
"I'm uh... I'm sorry, I don't think I can do that," I said, feeling kind of like an asshole.
"I'm so sorry," she replied, almost in echo of my sentiment.
"No I just... I don't think I can do that for you."

Without saying anything else, she retreated to the back. I heard a screen door snap shut, and I assumed she had left the building through a back exit. Just then, as I was still turned around marveling at the space before the dark back rooms, my coworker returned. I must have had my eyes wide open in amazement. She apologized for having to run to get her ID, thinking that was why I was in such a state. I related the story to her and shifted the drinks closer to the wall.

She laughed, "That's crazy! You're kidding, right?"
"No," I refuted, "She only just went out that back door there!"
"Really? Uh..." I kept my resolve. "You're kidding!"
"I'm afraid not," though I had begun to laugh.
"See, you can't even keep a straight face!"

I didn't press it much further, but I was still shocked. We began discussion about work for several minutes. From the shadowy alcove in the back, the beaten woman returned. The women's bathroom, I realized, was separate from the men's.

Again over the table she hung in a stupor before us.
"I'm sorry to have bothered your friend before. I didn't mean no offense."
...
"I just saw that you had two drinks there and..."
She lunged forward like a zombie, her hand outstretched in the direction of my friend's drink. As if in correction, she instead braced her arm hard against the bare part of the table.
"And I just got out of jail and I... I just really wanted some of your tequila."
I glanced at my friend who had that look on her face... the one that's in the movie where the character realizes they were telling the truth all along (or something). Yes, we might as well have been in the presence of an alien.
"I didn't mean no offense."
And she left.

Later I related this story to the wait staff at the aforementioned restaurant. They claimed that it was extremely unlikely that she had a husband & was instead homeless. The bruises were more likely from a drunken fall or from a run-in with less than gentle police officers... a fight she had likely forgotten.

What I'm not

First a couple of nuggets from the shop:
-After answering the phone the usual way, a man asked if we sold pool supplies. After a pause, he asked, "Who have I reached?" I repeated the business name. "Do you sell pool supplies?" "No we do not." "Okay."

-This next one was so confusing I can't repeat it exactly. I still don't know what he was asking me for.
Older Guy: I'm meeting a friend here.
Me: Alright that's fine. Did you want to start an order now or wait until he gets here?
OG: Well, I was wondering if you had a computer.
Me: Do I have a computer? [I begin gesturing toward the one I'm standing in front of]
OG: Since he's not here yet, I was hoping to go ahead put my information into your database.
Me: Uh... You mean your order or uh... I don't think I understand what you mean.
OG: I mean do you have a computer.
Me: Just this one here, but it's -
OG: One that I can use temporarily.
Me: No, we don't have anything like that.
OG: Okay... [He hustles off, several binders clutched to his chest]
I did see another guy come in who I recognized a short while later. He said he was looking for someone, but I was busy & didn't have time to discuss it. I didn't see either of them again.

-I only just remembered something that happened back at another store. People ask for strange ways of getting their drinks sometimes; they'll get double cups and a sleeve, "It's for here but I'll take it in a to go cup" [which is great, since I fucking care where you're going with it], "Small in a medium cup" [much like saying "I want to pay less to put more milk in my drink"]... Anyway this woman came in first thing in the morning before I'd even flipped the OPEN sign. She was quibbling about the cost of the smallest coffee (at the time $1.10) & kept coming back up to the counter. She asked me for a sleeve with her tiny cup, which wouldn't fit anyway. She got one regardless and made what amounted to a little hat for the thing - pretty funny looking if you can imagine that. Then she wanted a bag... maybe she was looking for a plastic bag with handles, I wondered? I showed her all we had were little pastry bags, and she plopped her little coffee into one, hat and all. She kind of stormed off without saying anything else. I never saw her again, which is for the best, but I wonder if she thought I was terrible at customer service.

-Soy guy I'd almost forgotten about. This happened at the same store as the above woman, but he's since been terrorizing a different location. It's irritating, though not unusual, that people ask for some leftover steamed milk. Since we steam each drink to order, there's not really much just sitting around... plus it's not free (sorry). It's even less frequent that we have soy remaining. This guy began by asking about the prices for each size of coffee and wound up getting the smallest one. They're all under $2, by the way. Then he wants some soy for it, which I keep behind the counter. He then claims that soy milk will curdle if it's placed in hot coffee, so could I steam it for him first. I explain to him that the little bits that appear are not curdles, and soy can't curdle anyway (in the way that cow's milk does - it can still go bad obviously). Eventually we compromise that I give him a tiny cup of soy to put in the microwave. I lost track of him with other customers - a mistake. A customer comes up after a short while to tell me there's a horrible mess in the microwave. He had heated it for... I don't know, a minute maybe? When he came back I explained that I couldn't let him do that anymore, and no I wouldn't steam soy milk for him for free. I feel like I'm usually pretty reasonable about that sort of thing, and I try not to upcharge people, but he was becoming a real nuisance. That same day he got on his cell phone right by the counter talking to his father. As the conversation escalated (sadly I hadn't heard much of it), he began shouting "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU, DAD!" I was a little frightened, and he was certainly bigger than I, but I asked him to take his call outside. He obliged with surprising calmness. Later, after I had warned my coworkers about him, I heard he'd begun appearing at the other store with the same weird requests. Now though he was trying to sell us baked goods, because the other place we were getting things from "doesn't know shit about baking." We politely declined.

-There's a guy at the store right now that I lovingly refer to as "the applicant." He came in not too long after we opened to get an application. A day later the phone calls begin. To this point he had not purchased anything yet. He sat down with the phone [I'd definitely told him to keep it to a couple of minutes] and pulled out a folding wallet. This thing was absolutely bursting at the seams with business cards (including one of my coworker's). After a good half hour on the phone I had to use the credit card machine, so I asked him to yield the phone. This began happening every day, & I had to lie that the phone wasn't working. Once, he left a stack of what I had assumed were applications on a table. Thinking he'd be back for them, I left it for a good hour before retrieving it. It was, in fact, an application booklet for the private investigation service up the street.
Regardless of my coldness toward him, he kept coming in practically demanding an interview. We told him we didn't have an opening for someone with his level of experience (none). Still, the calls kept coming to each of our stores. He turned in another application with different information on it. Eventually we had to tell him flat out to stop calling.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I recognized him immediately. He asked for an application, and I said he couldn't have another one. He asked for my business card, which I gave to him (it just has the store number on it). It was a bit busy, and he didn't ask to use the phone.
Today, literally as I'm writing this, he's still here. He asked to use the phone. After ten minutes or so I saw him start to dial another number & said I needed the phone back. He obliged. Then he starts asking me about the prices of all the baked goods. Since we're not Burger King or some shit, the stuff is not cheap. He had his eye on these fancy pastries that run about $2.40. He decided on a croissant ($1.70) and a coffee, totaling $3.10. After looking through this bulging wallet and every pocket on his person, he produces $2.60. I tell him that's what he has (mostly in change). "How much do I need?" I tell him. "I'll be back." Assuming he wouldn't be back, I pulled the items back & prepared to shelve them. Within minutes though he reappeared with an additional pair of quarters (from who knows where). I put the items back on the counter for him.
Applicant: Fill that up please.
Me: No room for cream? [of course later he spilled it all over the counter]
App: I don't like that one [the croissant], I like those round ones [pointing in the case].
Me: The ham and cheese ones? Those are more expensive I'm afraid.
App: How much more expensive?
Me: [Checking in the register] Uh... nearly 5o cents.
App: That's too much. Are all these that much [pointing around the case].
Me: All the filled ones are. The plain ones are just these.
App: I don't like that. These should all be 99 cents.
Me: Okay... well, they're not... I'm afraid.
App: Is that the only one that's for one something?
Me: [I identify all the things in the case that are under $2]
[Someone appears in line behind the applicant]
App: Do you have Philadelphia Cream Cheese? [I almost expected him to say "TM"]
Me: We do.
App: I'll take that then with butter too.
Normally we charge for that kind of shit, but I was pretty tired of dealing with him (not to mention the other customer in line). Nothing else happened except for spending an inordinate amount of time at the to-go station & leaving all his trash at the table. I found, amongst those things, a small slip of paper with my coworker's name (who is no longer in charge of hiring) and the other store's number. Just now he's walking down to the fencing place... where I doubt anyone will be looking to hire him.

I was planning to begin a list of names for the Java Jackets here, but it looks like I already have quite a bit going on in this post. So much for just "a couple nuggets" I guess.

Second verse, same as the first...

Even MORE Ways to Piss Off Your Barista

Since the first one was so popular (enough to elicit angry comments at least), I'm back again with hate-filled advice for the average coffee drinker. This was actually largely composed over a month ago, but I've felt like sun-baked shit for a little while now. Please to enjoy. As it's been said, you haven't seen it, so it's new to you!

1. Don't make me gag. Okay, so you're only breaking your diet this one time... That's none of my goddamn business. Still, if the first question in your mind is whether caramel or chocolate syrup (or both) will best compliment the heavy cream in your drink, try again. Maybe I should start printing directions to the nearest emergency room on the bottoms of the cups.

2. No bullshitting. Let's review some of the more fanciful claims from customers:

-Soy milk curdles in hot coffee.

-Higher lactose content in heavy cream makes it healthier.

-In a half-caff, regular should go on top of the decaf because it's "heavier."

-"I got that last time I was here..." (unless that was over four years ago, I can say with confidence that you're wrong).

-Oily beans taste better (this, in fact, probably means they're old).

3. We're not gonna do it. A few helpful customer suggestions:

-Install a roaster in every store.

-Use cold-brew coffee.

-Carry [insert small-time baker]'s [insert unsellable item].

-"You should have live music!" You're going to be in charge of setting that up? Fantastic!

-"You need to change your business strategy. There was a line out the door at Starbucks!" Sign me up for a subscription to the Wall Street Journal and Business Advice from Know-all Dicks immediately!

-Let you put stacks of fliers on our counter for your fucking band or anti-Bush rally or Vegan Carob Muffin sell-off.

4. There are stupid questions. Pick any item in the store, and you can come up with a stupid question about it. Examples: Croissant - "Is that a bagel or a scone?" Single Origin Coffee - "What's in this blend?" Muffins - "Do you bake your own muffins?" [maybe not such a strange question, but I've had people insist the sanitizer was, in fact, an oven.]

5. Fresh is a relative term. No, not everything behind the counter "just came in." There's a thing called shelf life, and I believe we do our best to stay well below it. Here's what I don't want to hear:

-"You don't have anything fresh today?" That's just an asshole thing to say. Neither yes nor no appropriately answers it.

-"How old is this muffin?" Is there somewhere that it's acceptable to say something like this?

6. You can't have it. I've had people ask for money from my tip jar. People have asked for 62 cents worth of coffee. I don't have a cigarrette for your broke ass, and neither do my customers. And please stop trying to apply for my job; as far as I know I'm not in immediate danger of being replaced.

7. Taste the coffee. We offer samples of the coffee. I will also give detailed descriptions. If you then take the sample and add cream/sugar or ask for half-caff, you've just insulted me. Do you ask for the $25 fillet & then cover it with Heinz 57? No, because that's ass-stupid.

8. I don't want to smell you. Coffee has a strong aroma. Maybe it doesn't always cover my BO, but I like to think it gives me an enchanting musk. If, on the other hand, your walking into the door turns us into a 19th century French brothel, it's time to cut back on the Au de Assflower. One guy, and I suppose no one's ever told him this (I sure as hell wasn't about to), smelled like sex all the time. Maybe this is judgmental of me, but I'm fairly certain it wasn't because he was getting laid. What does sex smell like, you ask? Umm... sweat and pollen? Boiled cabbage on the cattle ranch? Fine cheese and raw salmon? I expect answers in the comments.

9. It wasn't funny when the first guy said it, either. Examples? You bet!

-"Looks like you need your coffee this morning too!" [I still say this sometimes anyway, so I guess I'm a hypocrite]

-"Can I get a mocha-whata-frappa-dappa-lappa-ccino?"

-"Do you even have just regular coffee?" [try to imagine the amount of incredulity that goes into a question like this]

10. Place your goddamn order. If people are always asking you to repeat yourself, it's probably because you need to speak the fuck up. If you pay for a cappuccino & watch me make it, I don't want that look of surprise and insistence that you said "cuppajoe." After your order, if you see me just smiling and nodding even when you ask me a question, it's because (like your Kindergarten teacher told you) you need to take your hand out from in front of your mouth & fucking enunciate (okay maybe she didn't use those words exactly. Most 5 year olds can't pronounce "enunciate").

11. We don't have it. Actual things people have asked me for.
-"You got hot dogs?" This is inevitably followed shortly by "You sure?"
-"You have Kirkland Colombian Coffee?" No, we don't carry Costco's pre-bagged coffees.
-"Can you put together Starbuck's Christmas blend?" This was in June, mind you.
-"You got Coke?" This leads to a brief check of our drink refrigerator just to be sure.

12. Shut up. No, it's not a library, but...
-Nobody wants to hear the latest music upload on your Myspace page through your tinny iMac speakers, ya hoser.
-Don't shush the other customers. No seriously, don't.
-Kids should be neither seen nor heard. Maybe you should carry them around in a box with you. That way people will assume the "live animal inside!" is a puppy and think better of you generally. This doesn't extend to rattling the box if it starts making noise. Nobody likes a shaken puppy. If your children are too big for the box, I issue but the following requests that they not: 1) yell your name 20 goddamn times before you respond 2) try to come behind the counter, 3) walk around slamming the cabinets, 4) leave the majority of a muffin in a slobbery pile on some crinkled plastic wrap, 5) write on the fucking wall (yes this happened).
-Take the call outside Dr. Awesomeface. And set your phone to silent - it's more erotic that way.

13. I don't want it. Someone who doesn't approach the counter is trying to sell me something.
-Something from your bag of suspicious jewelry. You'd be surprised how many of these otherwise non-English speakers understand the word "soliciting."
-That $20 inspirational jazz CD. The guy that offered me this ended his lengthy, breathless explanation with "How many would you like?" Maybe he's an RIAA goon? And I was planning to make copies for all my friends...
-Your baked goods. A guy once explained to me he gets a commission (no shit) from every new account he gets. Unless you're planning to shift some of that my way you can go ahead & get fucked.
-Your coffee. What? Do you walk into Biscuit King & try to sell them some McMuffins? No. No you do not.
-Your résumé. Graduating from Connecticut Business Law Economics College University & 5 years of sales consulting for United Paper Concern do not qualify you for a job at our coffee shop.

That's all I can think of for now. Working in food service means I should have plenty more nuggets for next time!