I’m sitting outside at a coffee shop. The table next to mine is occupied by a woman about my age. We are the only customers on the patio. She walks up and stands next to my table, waving to get my attention because I have my headphones on.

Woman: “Excuse me. Do you have a pen I could use?”

Me: “Oh, no, I don’t have a pen, sorry.”

Woman: “Okay. Thank you!”

She goes back to her table. I quickly become engrossed in my work. Suddenly, a face is inches from mine. I jump. The woman is leaning over me, waving a pen. Her face and the pen are so close they are just blurs.

Woman: *Waves the pen in my face* “I found a pen!”

Me: “Oh! Great. Thank you.”

As she straightens, the pen scrapes against my forehead. She returns to her table. I am left wondering what just happened.

I decide right then and there that I am not staying outside with this woman, so I move my stuff to a table indoors. On my way in, I pass her table, and I realize she is staring right at me.

Me: “Did you need help with something?”

She stares. 

Me: “Hello?”

Woman: *Cups her hand to her ear* “Hmm? Sorry?”

Me: “Never mind.”

I got inside and didn’t look back. I checked my reflection in the restroom, but the pen had thankfully left only a tiny blue dot that I washed off easily.

I work in a vegan coffee shop, so all our milks are plant-based or nut-based. I have explained this to a customer who doesn’t seem happy with the menu. She is berating me while her friend looks on quietly.

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I want real milk, none of this plant or nut s***!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, there are those who are lactose intolerant—”

Customer: “If people are so delicate that milk will harm them, then that’s God’s way of telling them they shouldn’t be around! God intended us to drink milk! Real milk!”

Customer’s Friend: “God intended for you to have teeny tiny tatas, but you went and got those fixed, didn’t ya?! Let the nice people have their soy milk and stop being a c**t for once!”

I work at an expensive coffee chain. A young man, probably in his early to mid-twenties, comes to the register and orders a small drink and a bag of popcorn, totaling about $8. His card declines. Honestly, this isn’t unusual; our card readers are fickle.

Me: “Oh, sorry about that; our card readers can be picky sometimes. Let’s try again.”

Declined again.

Me: “I’m sorry, it’s coming up as ‘Cannot be read or not accepted’, which just means it isn’t working. It doesn’t tell us why. Did you have another card we could try?”

Customer: “No, this is my only card.”

Me: “Okay, I’m sorry. How would you like to proceed?”

Customer: “Can I try it again?”

Me: “Sure.”

Predictably, it declines again.

Me: “I’m sorry, it’s not working. Did you want to try a different drink or just the popcorn? Do you have a phone to check your balance or anything?”

He starts looking around at everyone behind the counter.

Customer: “This is my only form of payment.”

Me: “Okay. Did you want to try just the drink or just the popcorn?”

Customer: “This is my only form of payment.”

Me: “I understand, and I’m sorry. Do you want to take something off the ticket?”

Customer: “This is my only card; it’s my only form of payment.”

Me: “Yes, sir, I understand. I can’t change the price of anything, so all I can do is remove something.”

We go around a few more times like this.

Customer: “Man, this is my only card… I just got kicked out…”

He stares around at everyone for another few seconds. I just wait because I’m kind of out of things to say. 

Customer: “That’s fine.”

He walked away to a table. Ten seconds later, the lady who had just finished ordering at the other register came back and told me she’d like to buy whatever he was trying to order. I was happy to ring her up and put his name down on the ticket. I’m glad he was able to get his drink and snack in the end, though I wish we could have cut some of the repetitive guilt-tripping out of the middle!

Customer: “I’ll get an Americano.”

Me: “We’re using a new Colombian blend today. Would that be okay?”

Customer: “You f****** liberals gotta make everything political! I just want a coffee, and you gotta bring politics into it!”

Me: “Sir, I am sorry if I caused any confusion. I just wanted you to know that we changed where we source our coffee recently, and—”

Customer: “So, the liberals get into the White House, and you just happen to start getting your coffee from Washington, huh? Coincidence?”

Me: “Sir, we’re getting it from Colombia, not Washington. I don’t think you can grow coffee there… or anywhere in the USA outside of Hawaii, I think?”

Customer: “Bulls***! You just said Washington! District of Columbia!”

Seriously?!

Me: “Sir, I mean Colombia, the country, not Washington DC!”

Customer: “Why are you making everything political?”

Me: “I mentioned a Latin American country exporting coffee, and you started talking about liberals in the White House, but I’m the political one?” 

Customer: “I don’t want your d*** liberal coffee!” *Storms out*

I’m working in a coffee shop. A customer comes up to the counter.

Customer: “What’s the code to the restroom?”

Me: “1234.”

Customer: “Why do you have to make it so complicated? I’ll never remember that!”

Me: “Would you like me to write it down for you?”

Customer: “Obviously!”

I do so and she grabs it.

Customer: “Why can’t it be a simple code, like 1111? I only remember 1111!”

She storms off, and my coworker comes over.

Coworker: “Did she just leave her bag on the table like that?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Coworker: “Keep an eye on it. I think she just announced to the entire shop what her PIN is…” 

Related:
How Is This Person Still Alive?, Part 3
How Is This Person Still Alive?, Part 2
How Is This Person Still Alive?