I am visiting my local chain coffee shop.
Me: “Cappuccino, please.”
Barista: “Sorry, we only have plant milks today.”
Me: “Oh, no, thank you! Can I have an Americano instead?”
Barista: “Do you want milk in that?”
Me: *Blinks slowly*
A local café has tables for two, four, and six people. This particular day it was super busy, with only one four-person table available. My mum and I sat there. Our coffee, tea, and water arrived quickly, and by the time our food arrived, there were a few two-person tables free but no larger ones. We were enjoying our food when three women approached our table.
Woman #1: “Hi, can we sit here?”
Me: “Um, sorry, there’s really not room.”
Woman #1: “What? There are four chairs.”
Me: “Uh, yes, but we’re here already, and there are three of you…”
Mum: “And we’re not happy sharing. Sorry.”
Woman #1: “There are tables for two. You’re on a four.”
Woman #2: *Rudely* “You need to move. We need this table.”
Me: “You’re joking, right? We’re eating!”
Mum: “Wait a few minutes and you’ll get a table.”
Woman #1: *Angrily* “Look, just shift your stuff over to that table.”
She pointed at a two-top a couple of tables over.
Me: “Lady, no. We’re sitting here, we’re eating, and we’re not moving.” *Trying to defuse the situation a bit* “Anyway, we don’t have enough hands to carry all this…”
Woman #2: *Grabbing my salad plate* “Oh, for God’s sake, I’ll help! Just shift!”
Mum & Me: “HEY!”
At this point, the staff realised what was going on, and the manager came and basically herded the women toward the door. We couldn’t hear all of what he said, but it ended with him emphatically saying, “No, and don’t bother coming back!”
We got our meals for free and a big apology, even though it wasn’t his fault. But honestly, who tries to get someone to move tables mid-meal? It’s a cafe; people are in and out in thirty minutes!
I’m working as a barista. It’s slow at the moment, so I’m just cleaning. A group of women comes in and heads straight for a woman sitting eating a bagel and reading from a tablet. At first, they quietly exchange pleasantries until one of the group, I assume the leader, starts practically shouting at the sitting woman.
Leader: “You always give me ‘thinspiration.'”
Woman: “Oh?”
Leader: “Sure, I’d never want to be as fat as you!”
The other women do like a fake gasp and laugh.
Woman: *Without missing a beat* “I’m literally two sizes smaller than you, and I’m thirty-eight weeks pregnant.”
The leader screams that they’re meant to be friends and runs out of the café crying. The other women are just silently staring at the woman sitting.
Woman: *Shrugs* “Don’t dish if you can’t receive. Now clear off!”
All but one of the women left. The one that stayed bought a muffin and sat down with the woman. They started talking like nothing had happened.
It was a pretty slow, boring day until the phone rang and my manager picked it up. I didn’t catch all of the conversation, but it went on for a while. I guess the person on the other end was getting aggressive or something because eventually, my manager said:
Manager: “I’m hanging up.”
The same person called — I’m not exaggerating — ten more times in the span of two minutes. I think they only stopped because my manager bit the bullet and answered the phone. As I was passing by, I heard this gem.
Manager: “Well, next time you come in, we’ll be sure to give you a pickle.”
Yes, you read that right. Apparently, this guy was freaking out because he didn’t get a pickle in his to-go order. “Don’t forget the pickle” became a running joke for a while after that.
I am a seventeen-year-old dishwasher at a café. One diner isn’t satisfied with the amount of avocado on her sandwich, but instead of complaining to the cashier or the cook, she decides it’s my fault.
She comes behind the counter, surprises me by grabbing my shoulder, and starts to berate me for poor service while waving her sandwich in my face. I’m dumbfounded, standing there with rubber gloves on, holding a sponge and a spoon.
My boss hears the commotion from the back, quickly assesses the situation, and runs the lady out the door. From inside, I can hear my boss threatening the lady with charges of trespassing and assault, all the while grilling her about why she thought the dishwasher had anything to do with her sandwich.
