I am by no means a coffee snob or purist. I just like it light and sweet, while most of the coffee shops around me — both chain and individual — seem to start their roasts at “twice-burnt dirt” and go darker from there with no amount of milk or sugar saving it. I just get my favored light roast and make it at the office and pour in my own excessive amount of milk and sugar, as the only place I drink it is at work.

This particular day is different; it’s inventory day, which means we have to show up two hours early and get thrown right into the mix, with no time to sit down and make a cup. Good news: a new place has opened up just a couple of blocks from home on the road to work. Better news: the menu is in plain English, explaining what the different mocha-cappa-frappa things mean for plebs like me!

Bad news: they have eight different blends that all have different flavor notes and suggested foods to go with but nothing about how light or dark or strong or smooth they are. I resign myself to asking questions and being “that guy” as little as possible.

Me: “Hi, it’s my first time in here, so I apologize for this order.”

Barista: “Um, okay? Is there a problem?”

Me: “Nothing with you, I’m just in here an hour and a half before my alarm would go off, I’m sleep-deprived, I’ve got a headache, and I have no idea about the finer points of coffee. I’d like the biggest cup of whichever is your lightest roast, with extra cream and extra sugar, please.”

Barista: “Oof, that kind of day already?”

Me: “Once a year, yep.”

Barista: “Okay, well, you’ve described our breakfast blend. Do you like caramel or chocolate?

Me: “I like either, or both, but I’m on a bit of a budget; I’m not looking for any extra frills.”

Barista: “Okay.”

She takes a bit of extra time to get my simple cup together, and just as I’m about to ask about it, I hear the whipped cream going off.

Me: “Um, excuse me. I said nothing extra!”

Barista: “Don’t worry; whipped cream’s free!”

Well, that’s good to know. Then, she sets it down, and I notice the dark and light brown squiggles over the top and insides of the cup.

Me: “Okay, I know for a fact that the syrups aren’t free.”

Barista:“Technically, no, but it’s your first time here, you sound like you need it, and the boss says we each get one ‘good customer’ bonus per shift.”

Me: “Oh, my God, thank you, and thank the boss for me, too!”

Barista: *Laughing* “You just did!”

And that is how a good boss who covered the early shift during the grand-opening week ended up with a fairly regular customer until they had to shut down during the later waves of the health crisis — hopefully just temporarily!

I work in a food service store. It’s much like a grocery store, but we focus on serving restaurants, caterers, or those planning big events — bulk food. Every so often, I am asked to help someone load their vehicle, either because they have large volumes or, in the case of this story, the customer is just not strong enough to load three fifty-pound sacks of flour into their SUV.

Two sweet elderly ladies had me help load their SUV, and I had a genuinely nice time chatting with them as I did so. But as I closed their doors and thanked them for shopping, I felt my hand get grabbed.

This sweet woman suddenly had the vocal intonation of Senator Palpatine as she hissed:

Woman #1: “Take it. Shut up. Shut up and take it.”

Then, she released her grasp, leaving me with a $5 bill in my hand.

Suddenly, sweet as candy, she thanked me for helping and got into her car. I was amused, and I began gathering a couple of carts to take back into the store. Then, the same SUV stopped beside me as they made their way out of the lot.

The second lady rolled down her window and produced her hand as if to shake mine. I obliged, and as I was expecting another thank you, I got:

Woman #2: “I just want to thank you for— don’t say a d*** word and just take it — and have a nice day!”

This lady also spoke with the snap change to Sith Lord mid-sentence before she pulled away, leaving a second $5 bill in my hand.

I’ve rarely received tips — no, not tips, monetary gifts — at work. And talking with my coworkers, I am the only one to have gotten a drive-by donation that we know of.

My girlfriend, some friends, and I decide to go to a sandwich shop during a snowstorm. We go to another friend’s house to pick him up (he lives at the top of a large hill covered in ice — that was fun) and then head back to town. I’ve been carrying a twelve-can crate of beer the whole way as I am not really sure if any shops will be open due to the weather.

We make it to the sandwich shop and my girlfriend and friends go in to order. The snow is probably at the three-feet mark by now and we’re surprised they’re not closed.

I dig a hole in the snow right outside the door and start filling it with cans of beer.

Then, suddenly:

Employee: “Oi, what do you think you’re doing?”

I look up and it’s one of the staff from inside the shop.

Me: “Err… just burying my beer, bro.”

He gives me this weird look.

Employee: “Dude, it’s snowing hard right now. I’ve had no customers all day except for you and that lady in there. Stop burying them and bring them inside; we’re all thirsty!”

And so we all ended up sitting in this sub shop with the staff, eating free sandwiches, and drinking beer. After about two hours, the employee said he didn’t want to be snowed in there with us and was closing shop — a good call, as the snow was encroaching four or five feet.

We have a very friendly regular who seems to buy books by the metre. She seems to be lost in a book when I approach her.

Me: “Sorry, [Regular], we’re closing in five minutes. Want me to check out the books in your bag while you decide on that last one?”

Regular: “I don’t think I can decide in five minutes. I’ll just come back.”

Me: “Yeah, I don’t want to rush you, but we do have to lock the doors soon and I don’t want to accidentally lock you in here all night.”

The regular then starts looking around the store longingly.

Me: “You’re imagining being locked in here all night, aren’t you?”

Regular: “Did I look that happy?”

The regular did leave, sadly, at closing time. She was back the next day to buy the book!

I am standing in line at the gas station, and I overhear a woman yelling at the guy ringing her up.

Customer: “I’m an American, and I demand to be rung up by a non-Muslim!”

The guy took off his Kufi and tried his best to sound like an old-fashioned cowboy. The customer threw her things down and stormed off.

I have made it a point to give that gas station repeat business because that was one of the funniest things I’ve seen go down in a while.