(I am the customer in this story. I walk into my local coffee shop this morning and notice that one of the menu TVs is showing a Blue Screen of Death.)

Me: “I wasn’t expecting to see that on your menu.”

Barista: “Yeah, we have a new Blue Screen of Death Latte. It tastes like a burnt out computer.”

Me: “Mmm… Silicon Dioxide.”

Barista: “Yummy.”

(My family are South African and English is our first language. My uncle does a lot of travelling through the African continent for work, and has loads of entertaining stories about his travels. English is not widely spoken in some parts of Africa, and this story is a perfect example of that. Note that in South Africa, we use the term ‘waiter’ or ‘waitress’, and not ‘server.’)

Uncle: “Good morning. May I have an espresso, please?”

Waiter: “Of course, sir, I’ll be right out with that.”

(About five minutes later, the waiter comes out with a tray containing a normal coffee pot, cup, saucer, teaspoon, jug of milk, etc., all the things you expect to see when you’ve ordered a normal filter coffee.)

Uncle: “Sorry, I think you may not have understood me. This is a filter coffee, but I wanted to actually have an espresso, please. See, here it is on the menu.” *points to item on menu*

Waiter: *blank look*

Uncle: “Okay, so it is coffee as well, but an espresso is strong coffee that you put in a small cup—”  *tries to motion the size with his hands* “—and you have it with a glass of water.”

Waiter: “Oh, yes, sir, now I understand. I’m so sorry about that! Please give me one minute to fix it for you.”

(The waiter then left the table without taking the filter coffee with him. My uncle, perplexed, sat back and waited to see what happened and whether he did understand. To his absolute amusement, the waiter brought back a small cup and a glass of water. He then proceeded to take the coffee pot with the filter coffee and pour it into the small cup. The waiter, very happy with himself, gave him a huge smile and then wandered off. My uncle just drank the filter coffee.)

(I frequent a coffee shop famous for its “double double” order. This happens every time I go to one, anywhere I’ve ever been in one.)

Me: “Can I get a large double double with caramel, please?”

Cashier: *baffled* “What?”

Me: “A large coffee with two creams, two sugars, and a caramel shot, please.”

Cashier: “Okay, so that’s a large double double with caramel.”

(I’m in recovery from a very serious eating disorder where I’ve not eaten more than 100 calories a day for months. Because I’m still curvy, people regularly don’t believe there was anything wrong with me. My friends, however, all know what I’m been going through. This is my first time out at an eating establishment since recovery.)

Me: “I’m kinda nervous about this. I mean, what if I forgot how to drink coffee?”

Friend: “You never forget. It’s just like falling off a log.”

Me: *reaches for a sugar cube to put in the coffee*

Friend: “Um, I thought you didn’t want to be fat? Skip the sugar.”

(Yeah, thanks. Two months of therapy down the plughole.)

(We’ve just had our second child. I am exhausted; I haven’t slept properly for weeks. My wife and I share the feeds but she has been feeling worse than I, so I let her sleep through and am up every other hour. I take advantage of our youngest having a midday nap and take her out to the coffee shop around the corner.  I’m barely functioning but I manage to get to the counter and order.)

Me: “A coffee please, black.”

Cashier: “What size?”

Me: “Huh?”

Cashier: “I’m going to put you down for a large with a double shot.”

Me: “Yes, yes, that sounds good.”

Cashier: “Go sit down and I will bring it over.”

Me: “No, no, it’s fine.”

Cashier: “I insist.”

(I find a table, quickly realising that there was no way I could push a buggy and carry a hot coffee. The server brings me my drink and a small mountain of sugar. I see the elderly couple next to me turning around and talking loudly. I miss a lot of what they say until the woman turns around.)

Woman: “You know you should have waited to have children if you can’t handle it!”

(The lack of logic and rudeness wheels around my head as I try to come back in the politest way possible.)

Me: “I’m here for coffee not your opinion.”

Woman: “Typical kids, shacking up. Learn some responsibility and get a job. Sponger.”

(I am far too tired to put up with this, but this gives me some energy.)

Me: “Listen, you old bat, I have a job. A good one, in fact. And I’m not a child; I’m 30. Not that it’s any of your business but I’m giving my wife a break. I want to sit here and drink my coffee without some miserable crone making my life any more difficult.”

Woman: “Well, I never! We will see about this!”

(She storms off to the coffee shop counter. I can see that she is giving the woman an earful. I’m past caring at this point and see what happens. She returns alone grabs her things and they both leave. Just before they get out of earshot I call after them.)

Me: “If you are so much better than everyone, how come you are stealing newspapers?”

(She throws the newspaper down; embarrassed, they dart off. During the commotion my daughter wakes up and as I start to feed her the cashier turns up.)

Cashier: “Are you okay, sir?”

Me: “You know what?  I feel great. I think that was exactly what I needed.”