I am working as a barista in the city, taking orders at the till on a particularly busy Saturday afternoon. This older lady gets to the front of the queue. She seems disinterested and fed up from the get-go, but whatever. That’s, like, the majority of the general public when you’re working in this industry. I’m in a pretty good mood, so I think nothing of it and greet her with my best customer service smile.

Customer: “I want to order a coffee, but I can’t say the name of it because we’re at war with them.”

First of all, I live in the UK, which hasn’t been at war for a good number of years, touch wood.

Secondly, it’s worth noting here that this coffee shop is one of those specialty pick-your-own-blend-type places, and we do almost every type of coffee you could think of. This gets confusing (for all involved) at the best of times, let alone when given whatever sort of criteria this is supposed to be. Often, when customers insist on being vague for whatever reason, I make an educated guess, and I have a pretty good success rate. But WHAT can I go off of here?!

Me: *Politely* “Ma’am, I understand your reservations, but I don’t really understand what you want. Can you explain the kind of drink it is? Is it a blend or a coffee type that you don’t want to say? Please give me a clue.”

Imagine the biggest full-body sigh you’ve seen. Ramp it up a notch. That’s what her response is.

Customer: “I’m not going to say the name of it.”

Bear in mind, too, that there is an enormous queue behind her, full of stares, that just keeps building. This starts to stress me out, so I begin the hopeless endeavour of trying to guess what on God’s green Earth she could mean.

We go through this mutually humiliating back-and-forth, during which she gets increasingly angry for each second that I don’t get it. I ask yet again:

Me: “Ma’am, is there any more information you can give me to help me get you what you want?”

Customer: “I won’t say it. I won’t support them. I won’t be any part of it.”

I continue reeling off anything I can think of. Honestly, I don’t think she even listens to the majority of what I say. It’s a real possibility she’s missed a correct guess whilst flailing angrily.

After a bit, she starts outright yelling, banging her fists on the counter, and getting closer to me. (Thankfully, there is a plastic screen that separates us.) At one point, she turns to a young couple standing behind her — who, by the way, look terrified — and gestures toward me to imply that I am crazy.

This lasts for what feels like forever but is realistically the best part of ten minutes.

Customer: “FINE! The USA coffee! Are you happy?!”

Better than ever, thanks!

I’m not sure if seeing that phrase when you’re away from the situation makes it obvious what she wanted. But for me, my brain was too frazzled to try and decode anything anymore. I was anxious, I was stressed, and I just wanted her to tell me what the f*** kind of coffee she wanted. I kind of just blankly stared at her as she continued to talk to me like I was the biggest idiot on the planet, hoping she’d eventually get bored and just tell me her order. She didn’t.

Quick reminder: there was still an enormous queue.

It finally got to a point where I straight-up walked off the till and told my manager I was not serving that lady anymore. I went on break while someone else dealt with it because, of course, asking her to leave (as I requested) was off the cards. Customer’s always right, right?!

I came back after my break to see the woman had finally sat down with her drink. I don’t know how long it had taken since my efforts, but it was done now. The puzzle was finally solved.

An Americano. She’d wanted an Americano that whole time.

I work for my college’s dining services in a kiosk located in one of our largest buildings.

We have a regular come up to order.

Regular: “Mocha without espresso.”

Me: “That’s just a hot chocolate.”

Regular: “No, it’s a mocha. Just take out the espresso.”

Me: “I can ring that up for you, but I’m just telling you because a hot chocolate is cheaper while still being the same thing.”

She cannot get it through her head that milk and chocolate syrup without espresso is hot chocolate. I give up and just charge her for a hot chocolate, make it, and give it to her.

A few days later, she comes back to the counter, exceptionally angry.

Regular: “Why does my receipt say hot chocolate?!”

Me: “I was charging you less money.”

As I said, I’d given up on explaining the other part.

Regular: “Refund that and re-ring me up as a mocha without espresso!”

She threw her card at me. I gave up trying to understand and just did as I was told. Strange way to pay fifty cents more.

Related:
Making A Mocha-ry Of Yourself, Part 3
Making A Mocha-ry Of Yourself, Part 2
Making A Mocha-ry Of Yourself

I sell baked goods to a local coffee shop. I have been doing it for over a year. They recently got a new owner and they are trying to make some changes.

The new owner has made some questionable choices already, but it’s really none of my business. I just show up a few times a week and drop off various items for them to sell. At the end of the week, I drop off an invoice, and they pay me. All is well.

For a while, I was bringing a cake each week. Each cake is pre-sliced so the staff has no work to do. A couple of relevant details: one, the cakes always sell out, and two, the cakes have the highest margin for [Owner]. I sell her a cake that is twelve servings for $40, and she sells it for $5.25 a slice, so she makes about $1.90 per serving. For most of the other items, she is only making $0.85 to $1.00 per serving.

One day:

Owner: “Stop bringing the cakes. They’re too expensive.”

Me: “Okay.”

Instead, I’ve been bringing cupcakes. I bring twelve of them and I charge her $3.15 each. They sell for $4.00 a piece, so now she only makes $0.85 a serving.

No cakes, though, so she is happy!

I am at a coffee and donut shop behind a gentleman who is giving the cashier his order. 

Man: “I’d like a half-dozen donuts, please.”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, sir, but we only have six or twelve donuts.”

Man: “I know. I’d like a half-dozen.”

Cashier: “We only have six or twelve.”

The man turned and looked at me like, “Is she serious?”

He asked for the manager and explained that the cashier didn’t know what a half-dozen was. He said that he didn’t want her fired, just retrained.

I work at a bookstore chain in both the book area and the attached chain café. While I love the job in general, I also now have a very real understanding of how crazy people can actually be.

One of our regulars in the café has been giving all of the baristas crap for about as long as she’s been buying coffee from us. She always tries to start fights, and when we ask her what is wrong she just says something along the lines of, “You know what you did!” even though we usually have no idea.

One day, she comes in and orders her usual, and the barista making her drink starts casually chatting about the weather with her. It was kind of cloudy and rainy out today, but it’s not too bad.

The customer immediately tries to start a fight.

Customer: “You’re wrong! This weather is terrible!”

Barista #1: “Well, I like this weather, and so do a lot of other people. It all depends on your preference, I guess.”

Customer: “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You shouldn’t be fighting with the customer because the customer is always right.”

No, really, she said that.

Apparently, the customer’s opinion on the weather is also the only right one. She finally leave with her coffee, sufficiently pissed at one of the sweetest girls I work with.

THE NEXT DAY, she comes back again for her usual, and who should be working but the barista who dared to argue with her. Another barista who knows the story decides to take over her order and makes the mistake of trying to engage in polite conversation.

The woman keeps glaring at the girl she fought with yesterday and tells [Barista #2]:

Customer: “I just don’t know what to do.”

Barista #2: “What do you mean?”

Customer: “I have the feeling that if I talk to [Barista #1] again, I’ll punch her in the face.”

[Barista #2] immediately calls a manager to tell them everything that has happened so far. The manager approaches the customer.

Manager: “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to do something like this. Threatening an employee is something I can finally act on. You’re banned for life. Please leave and never come back.”

The customer glared but complied. It was almost as if she was used to being banned from places.