I go to an unfamiliar coffee shop. A server is at the counter but she’s facing away from me.

Me: “Excuse me.”

She doesn’t even turn around; she holds up a finger indicating for me to wait. I wait and I wait.

Me: “Can I order? Or not?”

Server: “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else who works here.”

Me: “Okay. I’d like a medium latte to go, please.”

Server: “What size?”

Me: “Medium.”

Server: “Sitting in?”

Me: “No. To go, please.”

Server: “Any syrups?”

Me: “No, thank you.”

Server: “Can I interest you in a cookie or cake?”

Me: “Just the coffee, please.”

Server: “We have a range of cups on offer at the moment.”

Me: “I just want my coffee, please. I’m trying to get to work.”

Server: “We’re all busy, buddy.”

I look around the shop; we are alone and the car park was empty.

Me: “You’re clearly not. I wonder why.”

A woman comes up to me.

Customer: “My lattes weren’t filled to the top.”

I had seen her husband sneak sips on the walk over but I’m not going to say that.

Me: “I’ll gladly remake both drinks for you.”

Customer: “I don’t want you to fix this; I just want you to know I’m disappointed in you.”

And then she walked away.

Our local coffee shop has an upstairs seating area. I pay for our drinks and food and carry the tray upstairs. I somehow manage to carry everything without spilling a drop. I get almost to the top when a pensioner steps onto the stairs. He is holding both handrails to steady himself and I have no way past.

Me: “Excuse me.”

Pensioner: “Just wait a minute.”

He takes another step toward me, again holding both handrails.

Me: “Can I squeeze past? I have a tray.”

Pensioner: “You are going to have to wait. I’m old. If you can’t tell.”

I look behind me. He is causing a queue of people to form behind me. Eventually, a younger woman rushes up to him; I presume she is his carer.

Woman: “Oh, there you are. Come on, let me help you down.”

She looks at me.

Woman: “Well, move, then!”

Me: “I can’t. No one can. Can he move aside?”

Woman: “He’s old. Can’t you just move?”

The long line of people is getting restless. A member of staff comes over to try and move things along. Finally, this seems to make it dawn on the woman that she actually isn’t in the right, and she moves aside, helping the pensioner to move, too.

I move past them only for her to make a snide remark.

Woman: “Some people have no respect for others.”

I couldn’t agree with her more.

I’m waiting to order a coffee at a big chain coffee shop. Social distancing and limits mean that there is a long queue of people now standing in the rain. Many of the more complicated drinks are off the menu and staff is reduced.

It’s a long wait, made longer by a woman in her twenties trying to order things clearly showing as not available.

Customer: “I don’t understand why you can’t make me a [drink]. It takes no longer than anything else and you have all the ingredients there!”

Barista: “I’m sorry, but we are running a limited menu at the moment.”

Customer: “But I don’t like plain coffee.”

Barista: “We have a range of cold drinks if you prefer?”

Customer: “I don’t want that; I want coffee.”

Barista: “We still have a range of syrups if you wanted a flavoured coffee.”

Customer: *Dramatic sigh* “I suppose I could. Can you make me an [obscure rainbow something] coffee?”

Barista: “I don’t know what that is.”

Customer: “Oh, come on! It’s on the secret menu; how could you not know? You’re being stupid.”

Barista: “We… don’t have a secret menu. We have what’s on the board behind me.”

Customer: “I… don’t… want… what’s… on… the… board. I want my [obscure] coffee. God, why are you being so difficult?!

Barista: “Please order something from the board or leave.”

She sighed, muttered something, and, thankfully, left. Curiosity got the better of me and I Googled the rainbow coffee. I couldn’t find anything matching what she said, so the poor barista really never stood a chance.

Years ago, I worked at a famous-to-Canadians coffee chain.

Customer: “You messed up my order yesterday!”

Me: “Around what time did you come in? I can look it up in the system.”

Customer: “[Time].”

The time he mentioned was when I was on shift the day before. I had no recollection of him. Mind you, there were only two of us working. Before I dove into the orders from the day before:

Me: “What did you order, sir?”

Customer: “You messed up my sandwich!”

Me: “What sandwich was it?”

He responded with a sandwich that wasn’t on the menu and hadn’t been in the last four years I had worked there. And that’s just one of many tales I have of people trying to scam us for free food.