you know you’ve worked at unnamed coffee shop too long when…

-a customer attempts to get in your car while you are working inside to better investigate its uniqueness

-you are given two cards, a typed letter and a mix CD by a not-so-regular customer

-you are drunkenly hugged by the middle-aged parent customers when you see them outside of the store

-a customer feels the need to tell you that you are a “barista hottie” (shudder)

 -a co-worker’s mother checks out your butt and responds, “I like the view”

-you discuss the attractiveness of people in your age group with a 70+ year old man

-a customer tells you that they used to think your father was your “much older boyfriend’ (shudder again)

-a customer asks, “what the f*$% are you on?” when clearly they seem like the drug user

-a customer tells you they need to sit down because they just had a hysterectomy

-a customer gives you a Victoria’s Secret gift certificate for Christmas

-a customer tells you, “If I were your age, we would totally be dating…yeaaaaa.”

-you have watched the progression of pregnant mother-to-be to mother of a 5 year old

-you dream (literally) of tasting customers preposterous drinks (six pumps white mocha, four pumps raspberry, half a scoop of ice…yikes!)

-a customer tells you to sell your eggs because you can really make a lot of money (you know, to pay for college…whaaaat?)

…to be continued…

yay laughter!

“Do you want a complimentary tall coffee since you bought a pound of beans?”

“Oh, it’s time for cocktails, not coffee, dear.” (roughly 5 p.m., roughly 50 years of age)

Quote of the year, plus I have finally met a woman who truly gets me.

P.S. I don’t usually sound so corporate.

sugar-coating disclaimer

I was told last night while at dinner with my parents that my writing is too bitter.  I thought my writing was funny. (no?  At least it’s supposed to be)  So I guess I should put some more light-hearted reading in here so people don’t think I am on the verge of going postal.

Hmmm, where to begin…

This may take a deep-sea dive into my cerebral cortex.

TBA

the day i could have paid off my student loans

I think it’s pretty safe to say that most people have honesty instilled in them starting at a young age.  Whether you hear it from your parents, grandma, that special teacher, etc.,  people know that it is not just to steal and it is necessary to return things to their rightful owner.  But let me ask you this, what if you believe that the rightful owner doesn’t deserve what has been lost?  Do you have the right to play God and decide the fate of the lost item?  Initially, I think no.  I constantly fear bad karma.  But in hindsight, I now second-guess myself.

Generally, the lost and found at work consists of scarves, sunglasses, half of a pair of gloves, credit cards that have long since been canceled, surprisingly sets of keys (how do they leave the parking lot – on their brooms??).  But on one gloriously sunny day, the lost and found hit the jack pot.  Someone left a $2,000 Prada hobo bag in the cafe.  What are the odds?  How on Earth does this happen?  What catastrophe could possibly be going on that you would leave without such an expensive accessory??  Was this a test of the Golden Rule or just plain stupidity?  After seeing the license of the woman who owned this overpriced trinket, I knew the answer: stupidity.

Now I know I am no prize and should not judge others intelligence, but anyone who spends this kind of money on a purse is allowed to be labeled stupid.  Maybe ignorant is better.  With $2,000, she could help provide medication to at least fifteen people for a year who are suffering from HIV.  With $2,000, I could pay off one year of my student loans.  With $2,000 she could help feed the one in seven people who are malnourished around the world.  (Side note:  when you are procrastinating, go to www.freerice.com and help end world hunger while getting smarter).

Anyway, I am going off on one of my “I want to save the world” tangents.  Clearly this chica doesn’t seem to think these problems involve her because she is here and they are there or whatever idiotic explanation she may have.  Back to the story…

I found her license, as well as her Chanel wallet (obvi), the price tag for the bag (hence why I know the outlandish amount of money spent), and she ends up being unlisted in the phone book so I can’t be the good Samaritan that I wanted to be.  She finally calls the store five hours after the bag has been found.  Are you kidding me??  What have you been doing all this time?  Do you really go to that many places in a day that you can’t think of where you left your Prada handbag?  Gee Whiz, if only those were the biggest problems in the world!

Needless to say, she comes in to get her beloved bag (or maybe not so beloved), all giggly like, “silly me.”  Yea, silly YOU for buying that thing in the first place.  She gets her stupid sugar-free coffee and goes on her way, Prada bag on shoulder, without so much as tipping us.  I know it must be tough to part with a dollar.  I could have thrown that thing in the dumpster or claimed that it wasn’t found

But the kicker is:  the bag was hideously average – JC Penny does better.  Sucker!

can you move?

The air about this woman reeks.  She wears fashionable glasses, red lipstick and has pretty cool hair, but other than that she stinks.

As a coffee slave at a very busy store, you greatly value your breaks.  It is a time to eat a muffin, find inner peace, smoke a cigarette or call someone to rant about the day thus far.  To each their own.  So when I was accosted by the aforementioned patron I was not amused.

I was sitting at the far end of the bar on the phone with my boyfriend during my break.  Let the record show that there were three other seats available besides the one next to me.

So this femme decides to take the seat closest to me and then is bold enough to ask me to move over because she is a bag lady.

Number One:  As catty as it sounds, I was here first.

Number Two:  I am on the phone (!!).

Number Three:  The bar as well as the ENTIRE cafe is empty – sit somewhere else!!

Number Four:  (Reality) – I move to the other side of the room and give her a dirty look.

Fin.

P.S. No ‘Please’ or ‘Thank You’ was uttered.

maybe you should have stayed home

As I drove to work on Monday, I was feeling miffed.  I had worked several days in a row with the same people around the same times and I just didn’t feel like going through the motions today.  I felt like I lived in Seahaven, the setting of The Truman Show where the background repeats itself and the same interactions happen everyday.

Generally when I am in this frame of mind it is not the best mentality to go into work with.  Most of the time I can shake it off, but it takes one small altercation to get me back into a negative state.  And today was one of those days.

Business picks up in the late afternoon with the Frappucino-drinking teenagers and the business professionals who need a post-work half-caf.  Simultaneously, we are short staffed due to hour cutbacks due to the poor economy. ugh.

So you would think that customers would understand this phenomena considering that the economy is discussed endlessly in every news outlet.  Answer:  False.

As I see this woman approach the counter, I know that she is a hassle and quite rude almost every time she steps foot in our establishment.  Why I think she will not act this way today is beyond me. 

She makes her purchase and walks to the condo bar to put milk in her coffee only to find that the nonfat milk is empty.  A normal person would just walk up to one of us and ask for another, but that is just too easy and civil.  She feels the need the make her voice and unnecessary opinion heard.

She comes to the side of the counter, while I am helping one of the other ten people who are now in line and she shakes the milk carafe so I notice her.  I immediately stop what I am doing to give her another milk because it really doesn’t take that much time.  As I hand her the pitcher she says the following:

” This is why I hate coming here.  If I wanted to be a waitress I would just stay at home.”

I proceed to tell her that we have been very busy, which is consequently followed by a sigh and an eye roll from her direction.  To this I say, “Well thank you for being so understanding.”  And she walks away.

END SCENE.  [If only that were the case]

Not only do I not understand what this foul woman means (do you live at Denny’s?), but maybe you should have stayed home if that is the type of attitude you decide to display to a complete stranger.  If that is how you respond to an empty container of milk how do you respond to stepping in dog mess?  Or when your child wets the bed at age 5?  Or when your husband fails to give you an orgasm for the 2nd straight year?

Aren’t there much more important things to be worrying about than the people at your coffee shop not filling the milk?  What about the fight against AIDS or global warming or the topical Swine Flu? 

Apparently not.

that fake Chanel really becomes your ego

It is really quite a drag when customers think you are a complete moron and that is the only reason you work in the service industry.  Although I have come across my fair share of dummy coworkers, I also know that it takes a great deal of patience, kindness and intelligence to work behind our counters.  In addition, most of my coworkers are in college or college graduates.  And more importantly, 99 percent of our customers could never be baristas – they don’t have the cajones.

So, after going to four classes, back to back, in which I am getting mostly A’s and occassional B’s, and then straight to work (which is generally my weekly routine) there is nothing more infuriating than having customers look at you like you are some sort of rodent.  Especially women in fake Chanel suits who come in on Easter Sunday and don’t have the decency to throw their change into the tip jar. 

The annoyance erupted after she approached the counter with a bewildered look because she thought I had overcharged her.  She didn’t bother to ask me how I rang her up, but went to another employee who proceeded to price check the wrong items, making it seem that I did indeed overcharge her.  The height of annoyance, and what caused me to scrunch up my face in a cartoonesque way, was when she acted as if she was being some wonderfully understanding laid-back gal by letting the 30 cent difference just roll off her shoulders. 

FYI [expletive], I rang you up correctly.  You just can’t add.  I’m sure Jesus would be real proud.  Happy Easter!