That’s A Latte Entitlement

It is five am in an airport, so that is what I attribute most of this story to. I have ordered a hot sandwich because this is the only place open — no coffee because I don’t drink it. A group arrives just after me and places orders for drinks, and then we all mill around the collection area.

A member of staff puts my sandwich down in the collection area and calls my name. As I step forward, one of the men from the group behind me steps up to the counter and blocks me.

Customer: “This isn’t a latte.”

Me: “No, it’s my sandwich.”

Employee: “No, that’s her sandwich.”

He picks up my sandwich and looks at it.

Customer: “I ordered a latte. This isn’t a latte.”

I am reaching round him now, but he is tall and I am very short.

Me: “Excuse me. That’s my sandwich.”

He looks at me, confused.

Other Customer In The Group: “That’s her sandwich, [Customer]; your coffee is next.”

Employee: “Can you give her the sandwich?”

The man looks from me to the member of staff again.

Customer: “This isn’t my latte.”

Me: “No, it’s my sandwich.”

I reach for it. He is still staring vaguely at me but lets me tug my sandwich out of his hand and step away. As I am walking away, I hear:

Customer: “Did she take my latte?”