elegantwaste's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- starfucks My work-related bitch of the month. Life as a barista isn't an especially stressful one, once you get home. At the job, however, I want to throw coffee in people's faces, and when I can't, there comes the stress. Today we had: 1. The Cell-Phone-Talking Yuppie. A lady with the hair and the nails and the LV bag is standing at the register talking on her phone. I go up, "Can I help you?", and she holds up her hand to me to tell me to wait. Oh, geez, sorry, did I deem it all right to speak? So I leave, and Kate ignores her completely, cause holy hell do we hate the cell-phone talkers. Then a couple minutes later, still on the phone, mind you, she says "Excuse me?" so Kate goes over. At this point I'm sweeping the floor, so I don't hear what she orders, but then there's someone else in line so Kate calls me over. Triple Grande Hazelnut Soy 180 Degrees No Foam Latte. Now, if you're ever in an espresso-type coffee shop, and want the barista to roll her eyes at you, and secretly call you a fucking moron? Order a triple grande hazelnut soy 180 degree no-foam latte. Seriously. That, and other similar combinations, is the bitchy yuppy drink. So the woman just drops a $50 bill on the counter (for her $5 drink), grabs the change. No thank you, no please. I make her STUPID drink, hand it to her, all smiles and thank yous like I always am. She grabs it, still on the phone, and leaves. Me and Kate turn to each other, and in unison: "Fucking cunt." 2. The Businessman with Annoyed Disbelief. This immaculately dressed guy comes in. I'm at the bar making drinks. He doesn't buy anything, but asks for the washroom key. Our lock on our washroom is broken, so we're telling people it's out of service, except we can get in there, we just have to personally let them in, which is a pain in the ass. Nice people, and regulars, we let in. This dude was neither, so I politely apologize and inform him that the washroom is out of service. He says "What?!?" and I tell him again. "What?" he says in clipped tones. Like I deliberately broke the door so he couldn't deposit his daily load in our pipes. So he leaves in a huff. Comes back half an hour later with some lady, and they order the 'oh i'm so cultured i drink my coffee the european way' doppio macchiatos. For here. "Two for here doppio macchiatos," I call out. "Those are for here, right?" he asks. So we tend to put our Sharpie pens capless into the for here demitasse cups, cause theyr'e the right size, so only one of the cups doesn't have black marker in the bottom. Dave, being a conscientious concerned employee, doesn't want to serve coffee in cups with fresh Sharpie ink, so uses one for here cup, and puts the other in a to go cup. Dave also explains this quite reasonably. The dude throws a FIT. Saying how it tastes awful in paper cups, how he's ruining the flavour of the coffee, how he specifically asked for real cups, blah blah blah. Dave says again he doesn't have any more porcelain demi-tasse cups, but he would be happy to put it in a bigger cup. "WHat? WHAT?" again. Then "If that's the best you can do." 3. The 'I-know-more-about-coffee-than-you-do' Idiot. This woman orders a wet latte. "Wet" is usually in reference to cappucinos, meaning less foam, more milk. A latte is all milk with just a touch of foam, so there's really no such thing as a wet latte. So I ask if she just wants no-foam. "No, wet." So I ask what she specifically means. "Don't you know? You people are supposed to know everything about coffee. Don't they teach you?" So, she called me "You people", which always, no matter what it's in reference to, makes me angrier than a russian poet. Plus, I'm right. Whatever. I made her drink, and she came over and watched my every move like I was going to spit in it, and I thought about it. And I put it up as a 'wet latte' even though I just made her a normal fucking latte. Bitch. Ah, Starbucks, how I love and loathe thee in unison. Tomorrow is my last day, then, six days off or something! I rule. Well, Kate rules, for not making me work. Of course, I'm going home for christmas, so. My family will be an entry of their own, I'm sure. 6:31 p.m. - 2002-12-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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