(I’m getting coffee with a friend who works as a policeman. As we are sitting, a man leaves the shop, then immediately comes back in, furious.)

Customer: “My car is gone!”

(My friend identifies himself and steps outside with a coffee shop employee. They soon locate the car, which has rolled down the hill, hopped a barrier, and crashed into a concrete barrier.)

Customer: “[Coffee Shop] destroyed my car! I’m suing! I’ll own this place!”

(My friend calls for on duty officers and they arrive quickly. As soon as they investigate, there’s some issue.)

Officer: “Sir? Where did you park your car?”

Customer: “Over there.” *indicates the fire lane*

Officer: “So, you illegally parked your car in the fire lane, blocking the handicap ramp. Parked is the wrong word though. We found the car running and still in gear.”

Customer: “I was just going to be a moment! I’m going to sue [Coffee Shop] for this!”

Officer: “Uh, no. You won’t.”

(As if Monday mornings aren’t bad enough, this particular Monday is worse than usual. My loud neighbours wake me at 1:30 am and 3 am, so I get up to use the loo and step in water from a broken pipe, two bulbs blow, and my internet goes off, all overnight. So, going to work at eight am that day, I feel pretty exhausted, and I decide to grab a large coffee on the way in. Just as the barista is pouring the large latte, a fly flies in literally as she is putting the cap on the cup. Worse, for a few seconds her hand still goes to put the cap on as I stare at her in horror. Finally, after five seconds of her trying to decide what to do, she looks at me and notices my expression.)

Her: “Um…. I’ll remake that if you like?”

Me: “Yes! PLEASE do so!”

(She did, and the second one came out delicious, but what a way to start a Monday morning!)

(I work for a coffee shop that has the word “Mocha” in the name. The name is all over the inside of the shop, on the menus, the walls, and the merchandise. The following incidents happened on the same day to different people.)

Customer #1: “Excuse me, do you guys sell mochas here?”

Coworker #1: “…yes, we do, indeed, sell mochas at [Shop With Mocha in the Name].”

Customer #1: “Good, I didn’t see it on your menu.”

(It’s literally the first item. Later:)

Customer #2: “Do you know how to make a Mocha Latte?”

Coworker #2: “I wouldn’t be working here at [Shop With Mocha in the Name] if I didn’t.”

Customer #2: “Well, you’re new here, and I need to make sure it’s made correctly.”

Coworker #2: “I’ve only been working here since the shop opened three years ago, so, yeah, I guess you can call that ‘new’.”

Customer #2: “Well, usually a young [slur] man makes it for me, and he seems to know what he’s doing. I’ll come back at another time when he’s here. I just don’t think you could make it right.”

Coworker #2: “It’s chocolate, espresso, and steamed milk… kind of hard to mess that one up.”

Customer #2: “That doesn’t sound right; you’ll mess it up. I’ll come back later.”

(Later:)

Customer #3: “Can I get a mocha…” *long pause* “…white mocha.”

Coworker #3: “Sure. What size would you like?”

Customer #3: “Large, but I only want half the amount of each type of syrup.”

Coworker #3: “A white mocha only comes with one type of syrup.”

Customer #3: “I want a MOCHA WHITE MOCHA! I want both types of mocha. How stupid can you be? I want…” *very slowly and drawn out* “—two pumps of DARK MOCHA and two pumps of WHITE MOCHA. So, only FOUR pumps of syrup. It is ridiculous that you can’t take a simple order. I don’t know what’s so hard about making a mocha white…”

Coworker #3: “Here’s your drink, ma’am, have a nice day.”

(Later:)

Customer #4: “Can I have a [specialty drink]?”

Coworker #4: “Sure. What size?”

Customer #4: *looks around nervously and whispers* “I don’t know the name for a small.”

Coworker #4: “…it’s ‘small.'”

(I’m working with a supervisor who has shown, numerous times, that he cracks easily under pressure. While I’ve never seen him angry, he tends to run away from problems. Recently our buy-nine-get-the-tenth-coffee-free cards have been changed so your free drink has to be a small. If you want a medium, you have to pay the difference, which is 40 cents. Management has been very strict about making sure customers pay the difference. A woman who has harassed and shouted at every employee walks in with her card.)

Customer: “I want my medium coffee, now.”

Me: “All right, that’ll be 40 cents.”

Customer: “No, it’s free.”

Me: “Yes, as I told you last time, they’ve changed the cards so you get a small free instead of a medium. You need to pay the difference.”

Customer: “No, I don’t.”

(My supervisor sees this and instead of helping, sorts random stuff just within earshot.)

Me: “Ma’am, I was instructed by the owners that the cards will only be accepted for a small coffee. I can’t do anything for you.”

Customer: “I’m not leaving here without my free medium coffee.”

Me: “Hey, [Supervisor], could you talk to this customer for me?”

Supervisor: “Just give her the coffee.”

Me: *stupidly deciding that disobeying my supervisor is better than disobeying the owners, who are very strict* “The owners have told us all that we’re not supposed to give away free mediums anymore. I’m not going to run her card as a medium.”

(The supervisor then walks up to me, pulls a dollar from his pocket and slams it on the counter.)

Supervisor: “HERE’S YOUR F****** DOLLAR!”

Me: *stunned silence*

(Every customer in the store just stood there. I continued to serve customers and I left the dollar on the counter. The woman paid the 40 cents. I left at the end of the summer and was very happy to never go back. The store went through several owners over the next few years and I met my old supervisor while shopping a while back. He’s working at a grocery store now, and he’s thankfully not in a position of authority anymore.)

(We have a drink menu with an extensive choice of coffees. A couple comes in, they browse the menu, and then come up to the bar.)

Male Customer: “A latte, please.”

Female Customer: “Okay, well, I guess, could I have… what size cups do you have?”

Me: “Well, our coffees are all standard sizing on the menu, but we can also offer a smaller or larger.” *I’m indicating the various stacked cups behind me as I speak, from huge, to standard, to small, to espresso*

Female Customer: “Oh. Okay. Well, can I have like, a small strong black coffee, in a large cup?”

Me: “So, an espresso, in a normal cup? Or black coffee with less water than usual?”

Female Customer: “Well, like, a strong coffee, in a small cup. But not much water. But not one of those really little cups.”

Me: *not really understanding, but it’s quiet, so I figure I can work it out* “…Okay. Take a seat and I’ll bring it over. Thanks!”

(I make a latte in a standard sized cup for the male customer and a strong black coffee, up to about 3/4 of a smaller cup for her. I take these over along with an extra jug of hot water in case she wants to top up. Because I was confused, I ask her if it looks okay when I take it over. She looks a bit confused, too, but says yes. Two minutes later:)

Female Customer: *approaches bar* “Hi, um, what size coffee did you make him?” *gestures at husband*

Me: “Just a standard latte?”

Female Customer: “Oh. Well, that’s the cup size I wanted.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. Shall I make you another?”

Female Customer: *getting annoyed at me* “Urgh, no. Don’t bother. Don’t you do normal coffees, like Americanos?”

Me: “Yes! It’s on the menu…”

Female Customer: “Oh. Well, that’s what I wanted all along!”

Related:
Me No Speak Americano, Part 3
Me No Speak Americano, Part 2
Me No Speak Americano