Me: “Hi! Grande triple one-pump mocha?”

Customer: “What? Triple?”

Me: “Oh, you didn’t have a one-pump mocha with an extra shot?”

Customer: “I did have a mocha with one pump, but triple?”

Me: “Okay, so no extra shot. Give me just a sec and I’ll remake this for you.”

The customer has a dejected look.

Me: “All right, here’s that one-pump mocha!”

Customer: “Oh, well, I did ask for an extra shot.”

Customer: “Hi, I just need a refill on my iced coffee.”

Me: “Okay, no problem. With your cup discount, it comes to forty-three cents.”

Customer: “What? No one else charges me for a refill.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Unless you have a membership card, I have to charge you for a refill.”

Customer: “Really? Is [Manager] here? Anyone other than you?”

Me: “No, ma’am, just me today.”

Customer: “I don’t have any cash. You’re really going to make me put forty-three cents on my card? Really? This is ridiculous. No one else charges me for a refill. Ever. I will be speaking to your manager about this.” *Finishes the transaction* “I mean, here’s my stupid card.”

She pulls a membership card from her wallet. 

Me: “Ma’am, that’s the membership card I was talking about. It gets you free refills.”

Customer: “Then why did you charge me?”

I’m in a coffee shop with my very attractive female friend. She’s the sort of attractive that if you stare directly at her you get mesmerized. A group of young men has come in to queue, and one guy has completely blocked the walkway with his body. My friend is coming back from the toilet. She gets to the back of the guy, who’s laughing with his mates.

Friend: *Cheerfully* “Excuse me, please.”

She is ignored; they don’t seem to see her.

Friend: *A bit less cheerfully* “Um… excuse me, please?”

She is ignored again.

Friend: *Raising her voice* “Erm, I’m sorry, but could I just get past, please?”

She is once again ignored.

Friend: *Snapping* “MOVE!”

The guy turns, looking all irritated.

Guy: “Listen, you stupid b****, men are talking. You could have asked nice—”

He stops, taking her in. He’s stupefied. I’m sure he’s hearing an angelic choir. His mates are looking between the awed guy and my annoyed friend.

Nearby Old Lady: “She asked nicely three times, you oblivious ignoramus! NOW GET OUT OF THE WALKWAY!”

The guy scurries into the line properly. My friend thanks the lady and rejoins me. We’re chatting and the guy rocks up with his coffee. His mates are watching and one is shaking his head.

Guy: *To my friend* “Hey.” 

There’s a really awkward pause as my friend clearly ignores him.

Guy: “You’re beautiful.”

He’s still ignored.

Guy: “I’m sorry for being in the way”

Still ignored.

Guy: “I’m… wondering if I could get your number?”

Friend: *Not looking at him* “This stupid b**** doesn’t date oblivious ignoramuses.”

Guy: “Er. I’m sorry for—”

Me: “Oh, piss off. Even your friends know you’re making a t**t of yourself. Stop giving them more to roast you with later.”

There was an awkward shuffle of shame as he headed back to his laughing mates.

I work in a café that is also a bakery. Every now and then, we change our menu; something may not sell well, so we discontinue it and give our customers something else that’s brand-new. Of course, we’re all kept up to date about what we sell and don’t sell anymore, but some of our customers like to think they know way better than we do and it can be frighteningly easy to call someone’s bluff.

Customer: “Can I get a half-salad?”

We stopped selling half-salads more than two years ago. All of our salads are one size only.

Coworker: “I’m sorry, we only do full salads now.”

Customer: *Condescendingly* “How long have you worked at this job? You must be new at this.”

Coworker: “Actually, I’ve been here more than two years.”

Customer: “No, you must be new. I’ve been a loyal customer for more than two years and you always have half-salads. I bought a half-salad just last week.”

This went back and forth for a good while, and the rest of us had to roll our eyes and pity our poor coworker. Either this lady honestly confused us with another store, or she was trying to scam us.

I’m with friends at one of the UK’s main coffee shop brands. When I am served by the barista, it is obvious that I am going to have an “experience.” This guy acts haughty and speaks to people with a sneer, and he comes across like he considers himself a prince amongst men. He has long, floppy fringe that he keeps brushing out of his contempt-filled eyes every few seconds. He clearly doesn’t want to be here or deal with the likes of me. It’s awkward for both of us.

It is very early in January, and the shop still has advertisements up for Christmas seasonal drinks. I’m a fan of uncommon flavoured coffee or hot chocolate, and said shop is advertising a Black Forest Hot Chocolate. Black Forest is basically dark chocolate, black cherry, and cream. I order one and the barista looks me up and down and sneers.

Barista: “That’s a Christmas drink.”

Me: “Yes.”

Barista: “It’s after Christmas.”

Me: “Yes.”

Barista: *Smirking* “I can’t make you a Christmas drink.”

Me: “But you’re advertising it, and you’ve still got the ingredients open behind the counter.”

This drink is basically a shot of the flavoured sauce, hot chocolate, and cream on top. It’s not that onerous or taxing to make compared to a normal hot chocolate. It’s literally a normal hot chocolate with a flavour syrup put in.

The barista sighs and rolls his eyes.

Barista: “It’s not available right now.”

I wonder if he is being a tool for some unknown superiority complex, is being lazy and doesn’t want to make this beverage, or if there really is some directive. So, I throw up a weather balloon question.

Me: “Okay, fine. In that case, would I be able to buy a single shot of a flavoured syrup, please? It says they are 35p on the board.”

Barista: *Dismissively* “I don’t see why not.”

Me: “Can I order a shot of the black cherry syrup there, but in a medium-sized takeaway cup?”

The barista tuts and silently turns, gets a shot of said syrup in a cup for me, and contemptuously places it in front of me.

Barista: “Anything else?”

I slide the cup back to him.

Me: “Can you make a medium hot chocolate in this cup for me, please, and stir it well before you put the whipped cream on top?”

The barista grimaced as he realized that I’d followed his instructions completely and still gotten myself a Black Forest Hot Chocolate.

I stood and watched him make it, which he did with the most reluctant and bitter energy imaginable. For the record, it was pretty good.

This story is part of our Best Of May 2021 roundup!

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