I have a confession to make…
I work at a large globalized chain that sells coffee (that I can’t name but I’m sure you can guess). And what’s worse, is that I started off not even liking coffee. And what’s even worse than that is that I can drink a Blackeye (coffee with an add shot of espresso) without anything added to it.
That being said, there is alot that goes on in a coffee house. I work at the busiest one in my state, no joke, we have the most revenue out of all of them, and more and more seem to be opening each day.
What amazes me the most is how people get over their coffee. I think we can all agree that we can each be very picky about damn near anything and everything. And why not, especially if we’re paying for it. What I am having a harder time seeing, is how some people can have a miserable existence if their latte is not up to par. Top that off is how you hear people start their bad day horror stories with, “It all began when they f@cked up my latte…”. Yeah, you get the point.
We have a customer, let’s call her the Capuccino Lady, who comes in and orders a Double Tall Non-Fat, Real Foam (Thick like shaving cream), 190 degree, Dry Cappucino. She’ll go out of her way to see who’s working bar and to make that barista’s life living hell if the foam isn’t the way she likes it. Now I know, that’s she’s paying good money for it. I respect that, but we’re not in Europe, nor is it a gourmet establishment, so after a certain point, and when there is a line going out the door, when… is enough… enough?
What makes this customer particularly mind bottling is that she has turned away from her drink dissatisfied to wait for a new one, grab the same drink and think it’s perfect. So… she’s not the coffee aficionado that she masqerades as.Â I suppose you can say the plot thickens.
I was on bar one night and she started talking to me. How’s your foam? Have you made my drink before? Blah blah blah. So at first I was listening but then I looked at the line of drinks I had before me and chose to focus on that. I figure, why pay heed to the 5 % complainer when there was the rest waiting to be served. She told my manager, he’s not talking to me, I’m leaving and was gone.Â I swear that I sensedÂ the bad chi in the air.Â Or was that the No-Brew?Â Anyhow…
The next time I worked, she came in and I was on till. Now I had thought about how I would rip her a new one if she so much as looked at me the wrong way when I realized, maybe this is all this woman had, her perceived perfect cup of coffee. I had never seen her with anyone, nor has she ever talked about what’s going on aside from her cappacino or the quality of our fruit or if the wrong day’s paper is still there. (Maybe she’s a mystery shopper) At any rate, I realized, it was me getting to me and not her getting to me. I can only control myself and how I feel. So the glorious ripping of a new one did not occur and what do you know, she didn’t get to me because I didn’t get to me.