Imagine being rude to an employee who brings so much joy to people on a daily basis.
All content has been edited for clarity.
“So today, during a rush this woman orders a small hot, black coffee with honey. When she got to the window after she paid she saw the honey packets were on the side and asked us to put it in for her.
Now usually, we could but because of that thing going around, we have stricter policies when it comes to food handling and everything. Our honey is in solo packets and we are not allowed to open them which is why we served them on the side. We explained this to her, she was unhappy with the reasoning but seemed to accept it and just asked for more honey and a straw to stir it.
We gave it to her and things seemed fine until we noticed she was not moving forward. When we open the window she was opening the honey packets, adding them to her coffee, then throwing each packet out her window onto our lot. Like really? If you pull forward just a bit we have a trash can and we had a line to the street.
Cars behind her were honking at her, so I said to her, ‘Ma’am, Can I have you pull forward?’
She just straight-up refused, lifted the coffee cup up, still adding honey, and said, ‘Can’t you see I have hot coffee in my hand without a lid?’
Yes, I can. Maybe next time wait to remove the lid to add the honey?
At this point, being nice doesn’t matter.
My reply was, ‘Well if you pull forward like five feet, we have a trash can you can use to throw out your honey packets instead of just throwing them onto the ground like that.’
She began slowly moving forward but then hit her brakes and threw another honey packet out the window with cars behind her still honking.
When she finally moved enough out of line, she slowly kept making her way to a pump, still throwing out her trash the entire way. She stopped at the pump and threw the remaining honey packets and straw just right on the ground, while she was next to a trash can.
I’m unsure if this was her being petty because she had to add her own honey into her coffee but it just really feels that way which added on more annoyance to this situation. Like, sorry it was annoying for you to add in your own honey to your coffee but it’s not our fault that thing is going on which caused stricter policies.
I think if she ever comes back, I’m just gonna magically be all out of honey.”
“I just finished training in a cafe located in a public market that happens to also be a popular tourist destination. The cafe area is tiny, but we serve over five hundred customers a day. We don’t have our own seating, but we do have self-serve drip coffee and espresso machines. We hand customers the size of cup they want, and they can fill it up with either medium, dark, or decaf coffee.
Yesterday, we made changes to how that works because of that thing. The coffee jugs have a handle on top the customers pump to dispense coffee. They used to face the customers, but they now face towards the cafe so baristas have to pour coffee for the customers. This is because we don’t want customers touching anything other than the card reader. Not even the milk jugs. We are pouring everything for them.
Then, this elderly man comes. I recognize him as the man who pays for a small cup of coffee, pours a very tiny amount of coffee, then empties the milk jug into his cup. He orders a small cup of coffee, then looks very confusedly at the new setup. I explained to him that we now have to pour everything for him. All customers have complimented us for this except for him.
He tried to grab the cup from my hand and wanted to pump the coffee himself. As I was holding the cup in my hand, he dispensed a cup-full of freshly boiling coffee onto my hand.
I shout a little ‘OUCH,’ but he kept on telling me that he wants to do it himself.
I told him, ‘Sir, we are not allowing customers to touch anything, not even the handles!’
Thank goodness my manager was there and she took over his order. She told me to run my hand under cold water and take a five-minute break. It’s been a chaotic day with all that new setup and protocols. I guess she’s known about him for a while because I didn’t hear anything from him when he left with his coffee.
For the five hours remaining in my shift that day, I had a red mark on my left hand, but my generous manager added five dollars to my tips as a ‘training bonus’ and sent me home that day with a pound of coffee beans.”
Jagoff And His Latte
“During my early morning rush (in which I did three hundred dollars in sales an hour by myself), I had a customer walk in and see the line to the door. They all were regulars of mine, loved me, my drinks, and the punk playlist of the day so they were chill about waiting ten minutes for good coffee.
Instead of waiting in line, this man simply shouted his order at me from the door and sat down. Thirty minutes later, my line was slowing down but I still hadn’t made his drink so he angrily stomped up to my till demanding to know where his coffee was.
I asked, ‘I’m sorry, what did you order?’
The Jagoff, half shouting, responded, ‘I told you what I wanted when I came in!!!’
Sarcastically, I retorted, ‘Oh, I’m sorry! You can’t shout your order at me like it’s a New York deli. This is a coffee shop, sir.’
The Jaggoff shouted some incoherent.
I saw a few more of my chill regulars walk in and since he wouldn’t tell me what he wants, I went to help my regulars who I already know what they wanted.
I greeted one of them, ‘Hey, good morning Tom! How’s the wife? Are you getting your usual today?’
Tom responded, ‘Hey! My wife’s doing great and yeah, I’ll love my usual.
I said, ‘Cool beans, I’ll have that right up for ya!’
Jagoff was seething at this point and shouted, ‘Where’s MY drink!?’
I responded, ‘You still haven’t told me what you wanted or paid for a drink, sir. What can I make for you today?’
Jagoff shouted, ‘I just want a darn latte!’
I asked, ‘Okay, and what size and milk?’
Jagoff shouted back, ‘Just make me a darn latte!’
I responded, ‘You’ve just sworn twice at me. You need to leave.’
Before he can even reply, all my regulars are escorting him to the door and kinda forced him out. They didn’t take kindly to someone yelling at their favorite barista and some even doubled up on their tips.”
“It was a busy Sunday at the shop where I work and we are one barista shift shop. So I was walking out to the parking lot to go to the cellar where our big fridge for our cold stock lives. When I was walking through the parking lot, a gentleman shouted at me and asked what time the other two businesses on the site close.
Personally, I don’t appreciate being shouted in the parking lot as it is one of the times where I can have a quiet moment during my long ten hour shift. Time passed and the gentleman who shouted at me in the parking lot walked into the shop.
I greeted him, asked him what he would like to order, and began making his drinks. As I was doing it, he proceeded to tell me he didn’t mean to offend me but he saw me in the parking lot and thought I was really cute.
The gentleman was in his seventies if I’m being generous. I myself, twenty-five, laughed nervously and continued making his beverages.
Then he had the audacity to say, ‘The way you looked in those jeans I knew I had to come in here.’
At this point, I was just dumbfounded. I wish I said something quick that would’ve reflected my seven and half years in this industry I’ve been bothered by men. But instead I just continued steaming milk.
To make matters worse, he thought it was appropriate to share a story of a coffee shop he visited where the barista‘s were wearing pretty much bikinis and told me he wished ours was the same.
I responded, ‘I don’t know if I want my daughter to work a job like that.’
I quickly made his drinks and told him I’m not that kind of girl and I’m just trying to wear clothes I’m comfortable in.
Needless to say the whole encounter was awkward and made me feel rather objectified. If you have the guts to be that creepy at least leave tens and twenties in my tip jar please.”
Everyone’s A Regular
“I’d like to preface this with the fact the cafe I used to work for had an obscene volume of people come in every day. There was hardly a time we didn’t have a line up to the door. We were the only coffee shop around, and there were several other stores surrounding us, so we easily catered to the employees of those stores, plus all the foot traffic that came with them. Needless to say, we had a lot of regulars because of this.
The only problem, as you all probably see coming, lots of regulars plus high volume equals entitlement.
Regulars often felt like I should remember their orders, even though we served about sixty people an hour at peak, and at least thirty people while ‘slow.’ One person really sticks out though.
She was in line, and started explaining her more complicated drink to the cash person. She then spotted me, making a bunch of drinks and said, ‘Y’know what, nevermind, she knows.’
I glanced up at her and was like what. I swear I could not place this lady. I could not pick her out of a lineup. Literally.
I panicked when it came time to make her drink, because I really didn’t want to disappoint her. Her drink was an Americano. This threw me off even more because what in the world can you do with an Americano that’s so specific it can’t be put into a few words? My co-worker on bar with me saw my confusion and saved my rear end, because he remembered her. She likes her Americano done upside down, so the espresso is on top. I’ve heard it referred to as a long black before but she wants it to pour directly from the portafilter into her cup, instead of brewing into a shot glass and then poured into her cup the usual way. The girl just wanted some crema on her coffee. Which I totally get.
But please don’t assume I know you? As soon as my co-worker described the drink to me I immediately remembered her, because we talked about this drink when she ordered it from me the first time.
Two months ago.
Why do you think you’re so important I’d remember you from two freaking months ago? People, do not assume your barista remembers you, they see hundreds of you a day, and there’s only one of them.”
Closing Time Is Closing Time
“I’m from the UK, and over here we have bank holidays, which is basically an extended weekend (Saturday, Sunday, Monday). Because of this, we closed at Sunday time on Monday (6pm instead of 8pm).
It was the middle of Summer, my co-workers and I were almost closed down, and the store was virtually empty. So far so good. Ten minutes before closing, as I was bringing in the outside furniture that wasn’t being used, a middle-aged lady came up to me and asked if we were still open. I explained that yes we were, but we closed in ten minutes’ time.
She then asked, ‘Have I got enough time for a coffee?’
To which I responded, ‘It depends on how fast you can drink and how fast the drink is made.’
How else was I supposed to answer? People like to sit in the coffee shop and have their drink in the UK.
The customer entered the store and started ordering her drink with the barista on the coffee machine, who was also the supervisor on shift that day. She took a few minutes deciding what she wanted, then ordered her drink, an extra hot latte with extra hot milk.
Again, my supervisor explained we closed in ten minutes, and recommended making it in a takeaway cup so she wouldn’t have to rush. Also, so we can turn off the dishwasher as fast as possible.
The customer refused, said she wanted a glass. Okay, maybe she can drink piping hot coffee. The customer got her coffee, sat down and started reading.
It was five minutes until closing at this point, so everyone was just about finishing up their drinks and starting to leave. One minute until closing and the customer still hadn’t touched her drink. It turned out she had been waiting for the couple sitting outside to leave in hopes as soon as they left, she could take their seat and stay longer. It was now ten minutes after closing, and customer is sitting outside on the patio, coffee still untouched.
So I went outside and politely let her know we were closed and she would have to finish her drink and leave.
She. Went. Insane. She started screaming at me about how both my supervisor and I said she had plenty of time to finish her coffee and it wasn’t her fault we couldn’t make a coffee fast enough.
I tried to explain we both told her that we closed at six and I had given her extra time (even though it was only ten minutes, our company has strict rules on making sure everyone is out by closing time) to finish her drink.
She said, ‘Well I was told I had enough time, so I’m going to sit here and finish my drink in my own time.’
Whatever lady. I went back inside and explained what the customer had said to me to my supervisor.
My supervisor ended up marching outside with a takeaway cup, pouring the coffee into the cup, walking back inside with the glass and locking the doors.
The customer was furious.
The next day, she came marching in and demanded to speak to my store manager. She then started yelling at my manager about what happened the night before.
My manager, being the most awesome woman she is, just said, ‘Well, we were closed, and since we asked you repeatedly to leave and reminded you we closed at a specific time, my staff did nothing wrong,’ before walking away.
The customer just stood there, gobsmacked, before turning heel and stomping out of the store.
Needless to say, we never saw her again, and I absolutely adore my manager.”
“Coffee Is A Want, Not A Need”
“I was showing the new girl how to make an Americano on her first day. This was the first drink and she just came in a few minutes prior. It’s just an Americano which is just hot water and espresso. It takes like one minute to make.
A lady came up next and I was about done showing her how to make the Americano step by step.
I would have helped her as soon as I saw her but she snuck up to the counter and she said, ‘We have a sick person waiting. You can train her some other time!’
I glanced over behind her and low and behold was what I was guessing was either her sister or daughter sitting with some other family members at the tall tables. She had bandages around her head and looked utterly miserable.
I turned back to her, kinda mad she snapped at me and said, ‘This is her first customer, on her first day. You can wait.’
If you want to be like that, I’ll make you wait.
She shut up and let me finish working with the new girl. I don’t know why she stopped for coffee if she had a sick girl waiting. If it was really that bad you wouldn’t have stopped at all. And I didn’t make the sick person wait. She did by coming in at all.
I’ll say it once and I’ll say it again: coffee is a want, not a need.”
I Don’t Think That’s Assault, Ma’am
“A few days ago, one of our regulars who was a full on Karen and just did not like anybody who served her came in and ordered her dark roast.
I rang her up, then walked away real fast to get her the dark roast. I then heard her ask if it was fresh and made me double check both pots to see which one was more fresh. I literally just finished brewing one five minutes prior and she almost didn’t buy it, complaining we never have things done right, blah, blah, blah.
She always does this. She also gets mad we charge for double cup.
So, I grabbed her the double cup coffee, charge her for the double cup, and she asked me for a stopper. I got one out of the little box next to me, and I set it down on the cup for her.
Then this happened.
The lady suddenly shouted, ‘YOU DONT HAVE TO THROW IT AT ME. THAT IS ASSAULT.’
I responded, ‘Oh, miss, I apologize but I don’t think it hit you. I set it right on top for you so it’s already there.’
The lady demanded, ‘What is your name?’
I gave her my name and said, ‘I apologize if you had a problem. Would you like your receipt?’
The lady threatened, ‘I’m calling corporate and you’re going to get fired for THROWING something at me.’
Unfazed, I responded, ‘Oh, okay. Have a nice day.’
My coworker who was re-stocking pastries was a witness even said to she saw me put the stopper on top of her cup gently without even touching the cup.
Needless to say, I wasn’t fired for ‘assaulting’ the customer.”
“You’re Already Finished?”
“I work in a college town in an area with a lot of hotels, so my shop frequently gets parents visiting their kids, and they are by far my least favorite customers. Last weekend, this family came in to get drinks, and the dad ordered a double shot of espresso in a to-go cup. Not the best way to drink espresso but I’m not gonna tell this guy how to live his life. It’s worth noting our smallest to-go size is eight ounces, so that’s what I was working with.
The weekend was wild and unpredictable weather-wise for us, so I was dialed in at a slightly different weight than usual and the shots were extracting a little on the lower side, but they tasted fine. No one except someone ordering straight espresso would notice a difference in volume.
Well, once I gave this family their drinks, the dad opened up his eight ounce to-go cup that has more like three ounces of espresso in it and asks me, accusatorily, ‘This is two shots?’
First of all, why do you even need to take the lid off to drink it? Just order in next time.
I responded, ‘Yes, it may not look like much because of the size of the cup but I assure you, it’s two shots.’
I wasn’t about to explain the science of espresso extraction to this guy. He looked a little miffed, but he downed them in less than a minute while I continued to make my other drinks.
The family was still standing by the espresso machine, and I overheard his wife ask him, ‘You’re already finished?’
To which he replied, angrily and clearly still within earshot of me, ‘Yeah there was barely anything in it.’
After standing for another minute in awkward silence in the presence of their angry dad, the family finally left.
In hindsight, maybe I could’ve just pulled him another shot. Or maybe I could’ve let the shot run to two ounces and have it taste like overextracted junk. But still, I can’t help but wonder what was he expecting when I handed him his cup? Sir, have you ever had espresso before? I found myself thinking of responses to him after he left, as I’m sure many of us do, and I wish I had asked him after he finished, ‘But did you enjoy your drink?'”
“Two Shots Of Vanilla”
“I had this lady come up to the coffee stand. She ordered a latte, with I kid you not, two shots of vanilla flavor.
I did a doubletake, ‘Shots? Are you sure you don’t want two pumps of vanilla?’
‘Yes, I want two shots of vanilla.’
‘Okay,’ I started pumping vanilla into a cup, ‘That is a lot of syrup.’
I showed her the cup full of syrup, and she said yes, that’s what she wanted.
‘If you say so.’
I finished making her drink and handed it to her, ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
She took one sip and literally spit it out.
‘OMG, that is way too sweet.’
‘Okay, let me try that again.’
I remade it with two pumps of vanilla, and it was perfect. Maybe listen to the barista on occasion.”