Not So Syrupy Sweet

, , , , , | Working | CREDIT: No-Finger2501 | May 12, 2021

I’m with friends at one of the UK’s main coffee shop brands. When I am served by the barista, it is obvious that I am going to have an “experience.” This guy acts haughty and speaks to people with a sneer, and he comes across like he considers himself a prince amongst men. He has long, floppy fringe that he keeps brushing out of his contempt-filled eyes every few seconds. He clearly doesn’t want to be here or deal with the likes of me. It’s awkward for both of us.

It is very early in January, and the shop still has advertisements up for Christmas seasonal drinks. I’m a fan of uncommon flavoured coffee or hot chocolate, and said shop is advertising a Black Forest Hot Chocolate. Black Forest is basically dark chocolate, black cherry, and cream. I order one and the barista looks me up and down and sneers.

Barista: “That’s a Christmas drink.”

Me: “Yes.”

Barista: “It’s after Christmas.”

Me: “Yes.”

Barista: *Smirking* “I can’t make you a Christmas drink.”

Me: “But you’re advertising it, and you’ve still got the ingredients open behind the counter.”

This drink is basically a shot of the flavoured sauce, hot chocolate, and cream on top. It’s not that onerous or taxing to make compared to a normal hot chocolate. It’s literally a normal hot chocolate with a flavour syrup put in.

The barista sighs and rolls his eyes.

Barista: “It’s not available right now.”

I wonder if he is being a tool for some unknown superiority complex, is being lazy and doesn’t want to make this beverage, or if there really is some directive. So, I throw up a weather balloon question.

Me: “Okay, fine. In that case, would I be able to buy a single shot of a flavoured syrup, please? It says they are 35p on the board.”

Barista: *Dismissively* “I don’t see why not.”

Me: “Can I order a shot of the black cherry syrup there, but in a medium-sized takeaway cup?”

The barista tuts and silently turns, gets a shot of said syrup in a cup for me, and contemptuously places it in front of me.

Barista: “Anything else?”

I slide the cup back to him.

Me: “Can you make a medium hot chocolate in this cup for me, please, and stir it well before you put the whipped cream on top?”

The barista grimaced as he realized that I’d followed his instructions completely and still gotten myself a Black Forest Hot Chocolate.

I stood and watched him make it, which he did with the most reluctant and bitter energy imaginable. For the record, it was pretty good.


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