Scary Dairy

(No matter how hard I might try, there is one customer from my barista days I just can’t forget. She is nothing but pleasant, smiling, and polite for the entire interaction, but… Well, read for yourself.)

Coworker: “What can I get for you today?”

Customer: “Grande mocha, please.”

Coworker: “With whipped cream?”

Customer: “Yes, please!”

(As I am working on bar, I start making her drink. My coworker finishes ringing her up and she comes to the hand-off plane to watch me finishing her beverage. I put on the whipped cream, and am about to snap on the lid when…)

Customer: “Um… Could you take off the whipped cream?”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you wanted it. Would you prefer I remake the drink?”

Customer: “Oh, no, that’s okay. Scooping it off is fine.”

(I scoop the whipped cream off the top of the drink.)

Customer: “You missed a little bit.”

(I scoop the last couple of flecks of whipped cream out.)

Customer: “I think there’s still a little bit more.”

(I scrape what I’m pretty sure is just foam out of the inside walls of the cup.)

Customer: “Thank you! Could you top it up with more milk, too? It’s a little empty now.”

(I fill the last quarter-inch of the cup that used to contain whipped cream with more milk until it’s right up to the brim. The customer nods, and I put on the lid and pass the drink across the counter to her.)

Customer: “Perfect! Thank you so much!”

(The customer takes a sip of her mocha and then puts the cup back on the hand-off plane. She takes off the lid, showing she has drunk enough to make about a quarter-inch of room at the top again, and carefully pushes the cup back towards me.)

Customer: “Could I have whipped cream?”

(I topped her drink with whipped cream. She left happy, but I swear I died a little inside.)