Working as a barista can be a fun and rewarding experience. But every now and then, an annoying patron will stroll in and completely kill the vibe. These baristas have come forward to share their vexatious customer stories.
All content has been edited for clarity.
You Wanna Go, Bro?
“I was a barista working with a really beautiful young woman on an average summer day. This guy came into the shop who looked like a cross between a biker and a hobo.
My co-worker was busy grinding up coffee for the self-service pots so I went to the register to get his order.
‘Hi. What can I get for you?’
The man wouldn’t make eye contact with me. He was leaning heavily over the counter to get a better look at my coworker’s backside. I could see him drooling over her and it was honestly very creepy.
‘Um, did you need something?’ I resisted the urge to wave my hand across the man’s face. At the sound of my voice, he cast me an annoyed look, then went right back to checking out my co-worker.
I tried again. ‘Sir did you,’ then he cut me off.
‘I don’t want you to take my order, idiot! I want the babe over there to help me.’
My co-worker, her back to the dude, looked over at me. Her jaw was down to the floor in shock. She became frozen like a deer-in-headlights.
‘Look man, you can either buy something that I will make you right now or get your sorry behind out of here.’ I meant every word of this because he was very out of line and it angered me to see her uncomfortable.
I nearly fainted when I saw him reach down and pull out a weapon.
He raised a bat that came out of nowhere. Yes, a bat. I hadn’t seen it because he had it leaning against the counter that wasn’t quite within my line of sight.
‘You wanna go, bro? What do you think of this, punk?!’ The man swung his bat back as if he were about to swing it full force at me.
Honestly, once he said this, any ounce of fear I had quickly vanished. I am not in no way immune to a baseball bat to the head, but the guy was making a complete fool of himself. I stood there, unmoving, trying to understand why anyone would casually walk into a coffee shop with a bat. I contemplated my next move, but seeing him there, locked in a position to swing, the question repeated in my head over and over. From a different perspective, it might have looked cool that I didn’t even flinch, but I had a brain cell blow a fuse and was still pondering:
‘He had a bat this whole time? How did I not see him holding a bat?‘
I looked over at my co-worker. She was already calling the police. Then without a moment’s hesitation, I turned to the guy and said,
‘Get out. The cops are already on the way.’
Once he heard what I said, he turned to leave, but not before letting out a stream of profanity. His hostile behavior became worse as we tried our best to remain calm as we waited for the cops to show up. He even began asking me ‘if I even liked girls.’
The man continued to rant and ask intimate questions about my coworker and I. He was absolutely nuts. The cops arrived in thirty minutes but it felt like it took them forever to show up.
He was arrested an hour later for unrelated violence. Near the end of the shift, the owner came by and showed me where he keeps an axe for protection.
A freaking axe.“
It’s Never Right!
“I was a store manager at Starbucks for four years. One time, I had the pleasure of meeting a ‘Karen.’
She came in and ordered a venti cappuccino. My assistant manager was at the bar with an experienced barista. They were cranking out the beverages at a good pace until we got to her drink. She returned it once, ok, no problem. She returned it a second time. I became skeptical but let it slide. After the third return, she called the assistant manager and the barista stupid and untrained.
Immediately I stepped in. I called her over to the other end of the counter so that they could catch up with the drinks that were beginning to pile up. I told her she could not disrespect my staff and they are both experienced and were making the drink to Starbucks standard.
After talking with the woman, I found out that she wanted us to put shots in a cup, then skim the foam off all of our milk pitchers. Now in the past, we had large milk pitchers that we would steam as we went so there was always milk ready. After changes to the protocol, we steam the milk per drink to help with filling the cup all the way.
Then the woman started asking for a specific barista by the name of Tiffany.
‘Tiffany knows how to make my drink,’ she pleaded. ‘Is she here? Let her make it!’
Little did she know, Tiffany had recently been fired for constantly being a no-call no-show. As a supervisor, she was making a terrible example for the other baristas and her actions caused delays in getting the store open in the morning and customer satisfaction. She started dating some guy that was a bad influence on her, but that’s a different story. Tiffany was no longer working for the company.
‘If you want two shots and a cup of foam, you have to order it that way. A cappuccino is part foam and part liquid milk, which is why they made it the way they did. There is a standard recipe for cappuccinos.’ I explained everything as patiently as I could.
The Karen continued to berate us for our service and her drink being wrong. When she finally said her piece, I politely asked her to go elsewhere for her coffee. Clearly, we were not able to serve her as she wanted. She, however, was not expecting that as a response.
No folks. This Karen had become accustomed to having her you-know-what kissed, and I was not having it. I planned my next move carefully. She was going to regret her obnoxious attitude once and for all.
She was not going to treat my staff the way she was.
I don’t recall when she left exactly. I headed to the back to call my district manager to let her know I had thrown someone out and asked them not to return. I got major kudos from the staff and the customers who were within earshot for standing up to a bully and defending my staff, who I knew were in the right.
The district manager knew I had to be pushed to the edge to make a decision like that, and even had she not been ok with it, I had a lot of support to back me up.”
I Can Do It Myself!
“I had just finished training in a cafe located in a public market that was also a popular tourist destination. The cafe area wasn’t very big, but we served over five-hundred customers a day. We didn’t have our own seating, but we did have self-serve drip coffee and espresso machines. We handed customers the size of cup they wanted, and they could fill it up with either medium, dark, or decaf coffee.
A day before the incident, we made changes to the station due to health concerns. The coffee jugs had a handle on top that customers pumped to dispense coffee. These pumps used to face the customers, but after the changes, they had been redirected towards the bar so baristas could pour coffee for the customers so that they couldn’t contaminate anything. The customers were only allowed to touch the card reader and nothing else. Even the containers that had creamer in them could only be handled by the baristas.
An elderly man came in and I recognized him as one of our regulars. He always came in and paid for a small cup of coffee, poured a very tiny amount of coffee, then emptied the entire milk jug into his cup. After he made his order, he saw the setup and immediately knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. I explained to him that we had to pour everything for him as the new policy stated. All of our other customers had complimented us on this, but this regular was distraught at the idea of having someone make his coffee for him.
He tried to grab the cup from my hand so he could pump the coffee himself anyway. As he fumbled with the cup that I was still holding, the boiling hot coffee splashed on my hand. I shouted in pain, as my hand instantly began to throb and form a bright red blister. As I’m sitting there writhing in pain, the old man’s response made me so angry, I was positive I was about to lose my job.
The old man insisted that he should be allowed to fix it himself. He never apologized for burning my hand with the hot coffee that he spilled on me.
‘Sir, we are not allowing customers to touch anything, not even the handles!’ I was having trouble suppressing my rage.
Thank goodness my manager was there and she took over his order. She instructed me to run my hand under cold water and take a five-minute break. It was a chaotic day with all the new setups and protocols. I guess she helped him for a while because I didn’t hear anything more 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 bucks to my tips as a ‘training bonus’ and sent me home that day with a pound of coffee beans.”
Outta Time
“It was the middle of summer when my coworkers and I were almost done closing down the shop that was practically empty. Ten minutes before closing, as I was bringing in the outside furniture that wasn’t being used by one couple still seated on the patio, a middle-aged lady came up to me and asked if we were still open.
I explained that we were, but we closed in ten minutes’ time. The woman then asked, ‘have I got enough time for a coffee?’ to which I replied, ‘it depends on how fast you can drink and how fast the drink is made.’ I wasn’t sure how else to answer her rather silly and obnoxious questions when she clearly saw we were closing.
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 to decide what she wanted, then ordered her drink. It was an extra hot latte with extra hot milk. Again, my supervisor explained that we closed in ten minutes, and suggested her drink be put in a to-go cup so that she wouldn’t have to rush.
The woman ultimately refused and said she wanted it in a glass mug.
Okay, maybe she can drink piping hot coffee, I thought to myself.
The woman then got her coffee, sat down, and started reading. It was five minutes before closing at this point, so the few people remaining were just about finished with their drinks and began to leave. One minute before closing and the woman still hadn’t touched her drink. It turned out that she had been waiting for the couple seated outside to leave in hopes that as soon as they left, she could take their seat and stay longer. The customer went to sit outside once they left, coffee still untouched, as soon as we had officially closed. So, I went outside and politely told her we were closed and she would have to finish her drink and leave.
She. Went. Insane.
She started screaming at me about how both I and my supervisor said that she had ‘plenty’ of time to finish her coffee and that it was not her fault that we couldn’t make a coffee fast enough. I tried to explain that we both told her that we closed at 6 pm and I had given her extra time to finish her drink. The woman then said, ‘well I was told that I had enough time, so I’m going to sit here and finish my drink in my own time.’
Whatever lady, I thought as I went back inside and explained what the customer had said to me to my supervisor.
My supervisor ended up marching outside with a to-go cup, pouring the coffee into the cup, walking back inside with the glass, and locking the doors. The customer was livid. 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 amazing woman she is, just said ‘well, we were closed, and since we asked you repeatedly to leave and reminded you that we closed at that specific time, my staff did nothing wrong,’ before walking away.
The customer just stood there, gobsmacked, before turning their heel and stomping out of the store.
Needless to say, we never saw her again, and I absolutely adore my manager.”
Life In The Fast Lane
“In addition to coffee, espresso, and baked goods we also had a small hot food menu with basic items like hot dogs, corn dogs, soft pretzels, and other similar snacks. It was spring break so we were extremely busy with families visiting town for the week.
One family came to my register and started rambling off their order before I could even finish writing the first drink on their cup. I politely asked them to give me a moment so I could catch up. They ignored my request and kept listing things off. I had to ask them to repeat parts of their order quite a few times to make sure I had it right. Once I was finished entering everything in the register, I read their order back to them and asked them if wanted anything else. They said no and confirmed that everything was correct.
Not even ten minutes later, the mother of the family waltzed back to the counter and demanded to know where the corn dog was they ordered.
Oh great, here we go, I thought to myself.
I calmly told her one wasn’t ordered. I pulled up their ticket and showed her before explaining that I did read the order off and asked if it was correct. I was told by them that everything looked good.
‘I’m happy to make a corn dog for you if you’d like to buy one, but there wasn’t one purchased.’
After I said what I had to say, she walked away without saying anything and they left shortly after. Later, I was checking comment cards from that day and was not very surprised by the review they left me.
The mother left one that said, ‘You messed up my order. I had to repeat myself three times and you forgot my corn dog. Your customer service is worse than McDonald’s.’
As the manager, I suppose I had to write myself up for such awful service.”
Honey Trap
“I work at a coffee shop that’s in a gas station. In 2020, our drive-thru was still open but our lobby was closed. One time this woman came through and the entire interaction still annoys me to my core.
During a rush, the woman ordered a small hot, black coffee with honey. When she got to the window and paid, she saw the honey packets were on the side. The woman then proceeded to ask us to put the honey in her drink for her.
Normally we could, but because of the issues that were going on in 2020, we had to enforce stricter policies when it came to food handling. Our honey came in solo packets and we were instructed not to open them which is why we served them on the side. We explained all this to her, but she became very unhappy with the reasoning. Nonetheless, she seemed to finally accept it before asking for more honey and a stirrer.
In no time, we gave all of this to her & things still seemed to be going fine. That’s when we realized she still had her car in park and our line continued to get backed up. When we opened the window to see what was happening, we discovered that she was opening the honey packets, adding them to her coffee, then throwing each packet out her window onto our lot.
We were flabbergasted. She was intentionally holding up our line, cars blaring at her and all, to put her precious honey in her coffee. If she pulled forward only a little bit,she could have easily discarded the honey packets in the trash, but she was content with throwing them on the ground.
‘Ma’am, can I have you pull forward?’ I asked her, but she defiantly shook her head as she lifted the coffee cup up and added another packet of honey, and said, ‘Can’t you see I have hot coffee in my hand without a lid?’
At that point, being nice was no longer a concern of mine. My next 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 inch forward but then hit her brakes and threw another honey packet out the window with cars behind her still honking.
When she finally moved up enough, she intentionally kept making her way to a pump, all while throwing trash out of her car. The woman then stopped at the pump and throws the remaining honey packets and the stirrer right on the ground, the ground right next to the trash can.
I’m still not if this was her being petty because she had to add her own honey into her coffee but she certainly riled me up that day. I couldn’t believe it was such a big deal for her to add her own honey to her coffee.
I told myself that if she ever comes back, we’re just gonna magically be all out of honey.”
“That Is Assault!”
“A few days ago, one of our very disliked regulars came to pay us a visit. The woman hated everything and everyone and expressed this somehow or another in a verbal way. Luckily, her order was always simple: a dark roast in a double cup.
I rang her up before I speed-walked to get her the dark roast. I then heard her asking if the coffee was fresh. She then made me double-check both pots to see which one was fresher. I had just finished brewing a pot five minutes ago yet she wouldn’t buy it. The woman complained that we never do things right along with a novel of other complaints that she always has to share. She also got mad that we charged for double cups even though we had gone over this several times in the past.
I grabbed the extra cup and charged her for the coffee, eager to get her on her way. The woman then asked for a stopper. I quickly got one out of the little box next to me, and I set it down on the cup for her.
That’s when she went off the deep end:
The woman gasped before screaming, ‘You didn’t have to throw the stopper at me! That is assault!’
I was incredibly confused and stammered, ‘oh, miss I apologize. I did not hit you. I set it right on top of your cup for you so your stopper is already there.’
‘What is your name?!’ The woman continues to shout at me in front of everyone in the store.
I gave the woman my name before giving her the receipt. ‘I’m sorry you were not satisfied with your visit today.’
‘I’m calling corporate and you’re going to get fired for throwing something at me!’
‘Okay,’ I say with no emotion. ‘Have a good day.’
My coworker who was restocking pastries witnessed the whole thing. After the crazy woman left, she told me that she saw me put it on top of her cup gently.
All we could do was laugh it off.”
Mind Reader
“I was working in a coffee kiosk at the theme park. We had five dollar specialty mochas with cutesy animal names, like the ‘Raspberry Peacock’, and the ‘Chocolate Gorilla’.
This random lady came up and ordered a ‘Mint Polar Bear’, so I started making the drink. She never specified a temp, so I assumed she wanted it hot because it was the default.
I made the drink and placed it on the counter. Instantly, the lady snaps, ‘what is this? I wanted it iced!’
I took a deep breath before questioning why she couldn’t have just told me she wanted it iced, to begin with. I wasn’t a mind reader back then and I’m still not one now.
I remade the drink on ice, but once I gave her the new beverage, she told me she wanted it blended. I then told her, ‘I’m sorry, Ma’am. We don’t do blended espresso drinks here.’
She pointed to the six dollars smoothies on the menu above my head and the blenders behind me, and angrily asked, ‘what about those?’ I then explained that the drinks she saw were not blended espresso drinks because they were made with a powder mix, ice, and milk. They did not contain expresso. I also didn’t think to mention how terrible the smoothies tasted.
Now to be fair, I’m pretty sure we were supposed to be putting espresso in the smoothies, but that’s not what my management wanted us to do. The lady finally talked me into putting a few pumps of mint syrup into one of the smoothies on the menu, but as I finished putting all the ingredients in the blender and was about to press the blend button, the lady screamed at me, again.
‘There’s no coffee in that, either?’
‘No ma’am, this is not a coffee drink.’
Then she walked off without paying for any of the drinks I made.”
Busted
“I work in a family-owned cafe that is always at high volume. I was working a thirteen-hour shift on New Year’s Day, so naturally, I ran into a litany of entitled customers.
There was this one particular duo that came off as sketchy from the beginning. It was a man and a woman that had sauntered in. The two made their way to the bar to place an order. They were confusing during their order and throwing off my newer barista, so I listened to the entire order to ensure they were rung up correctly.
They wanted a mocha, two cappuccinos, and a red eye. It was a relatively easy order, or so I thought.
After I finished, I handed out their drinks. Not even five minutes later, the woman came back to ask where her cappuccino was. I told her I had already handed out all of her drinks but I was happy to ring her up for another if she wanted it.
She started grumbling and pulled out her receipt. Luckily the receipts were itemized so I had proof. Once we both agreed that she truly didn’t order three cappuccinos, I charged her and handed out another one.
After another five minutes, the same woman walked up to the bar, visibly angry this time. She demanded to know where the red-eye was. I told her I handed it to the man she was with. Then she replied, ‘which man? I didn’t get the drink!’
So, I pointed to the man I had handed it to and called out to him to get his attention. The woman started to argue before he turned around with the red-eye in his hand! He had already downed his entire drink.
Naturally, I said ‘See, he’s already enjoyed his coffee, but I’d be happy to remake it if he was looking for something different.”
Realizing their ‘genius plan’ failed, the woman walked away muttering under her breath.
I felt very satisfied knowing I had done absolutely everything right during the transaction and that she was simply trying to get free drinks from a family-owned business that honestly does not make a whole lot of money.”
Cold As Ice
“A woman came in and ordered three hot cocoas in mugs with whipped cream. Normally we didn’t put whipped cream on anything, but we kept the canister handy in case we get a special request. We kept our whipped cream in the fridge to keep it fresh.
The three hot cocoa are done in no time, whipped cream and all.
One of the recipients, a much older gentleman, comes back claiming his cocoa is too cold. Yikes, I thought, probably my fault. I steamed two pitchers of milk and combined their remnants to make a third jug worth, so he probably got his slightly lukewarm.
‘Sorry sir, we’ll make you a new one!’ I quickly get started on fresh hot cocoa.
My coworker hands him the new one. He even steamed it an extra second or so, to make sure there was no way the beverage was cold before he topped it off with whipped cream.
Then the old man came back in for the third time. He was even more agitated than the last.
‘Is your machine broken? I wanted HOT cocoa, this one is cold too!’
My coworker and I just look at each other extremely confused. We look at the machine then check the counter and realize what’s been the culprit all along.
‘Well, sir, you see the whipped cream is cold so it cools down the cocoa.’ I explained patiently.
‘But I am not drinking the whipped cream I am drinking the cocoa!’
‘No, uh, you see the whipped cream makes the hot cocoa cold because it’s… cold.’ I could not explain it any better.
The old man took a moment to process my explanation, then with a grunt, he turned to make his leave.
That folks, is the time I had to explain to a man at least fifty years my senior that cold things make hot things cold and hot things make cold things hot.”
