Saturday, January 31, 2009
Ode to coffee
I'm an employee at a world wide known loved coffee shop in the USA. I get payed to smile and lie to hundreds of people every day and "just say yes!". I work in the suburbs of a Southern California town which means most of the people I encounter, if you could even call them people, are "rich" and conceded individuals with cars that could kill an entire portion of the rain forest just by starting up, and more problems than the teens on Laguna Beach. Also I am embarrassed to say I live in what is home to the desperate house wives of the Inland Empire. It amazes me some of the customers that walk through my door daily. Over the past year I have come to know them not by their name, but by their drink/nickname that is given to them based off of their actions in the store. Picture a small cafe, probably 35 feet in length with all the quaint coffee accessories imaginable. Oh how exciting, it's like your going to the theater! Now clear your mind and let us begin. In walks a 6'2 ish woman who looks like a Hungarian warrior off the discovery channel. Now if her bird-like nose doesn't catch your attention, then her over sized bust in an ill fitted shirt will. She is one of those "church going" Christians, you know the type that yells at people during the week and praises God on Sunday. She orders a complex, espresso beverage with extra breve pretty much daily. Now you think the drink sounds ridiculous, try making it. She not only is completely rude to everyone that she encounters, but if you charge her for breve (which you should) or do not make her drink accordingly to the "physics of life", you have to "just say yes" and re-make it all over. Well last Monday she stomps in with her manly, prissy, tight clothing self to order her wonderful beverage. Mind you I never say but the usual greeting to the woman, but she comes up to the register in a hissy and sighs at the fact that I dare to take her order and yells for another employee to please help her. I simply answer back that everyone else is busy and I have no problem helping her with her needs, the presence of forced pleasantness could be felt throughout the town. She continues to tell me that I am ill equipped to help her, and that my slutty, whore self will be going to hell because of the way I have treated her (I am wearing a long sleaved button up to the neck, tucked in shirt with pants). Now this is a "godly" woman who I have said probably as minimal as possible to who is condemning me to hell, pretty harsh wouldn't you say? I try to calm her down as well as myself but it seems she is on a roll and must state her every thought. She begins telling the entire line how she is a victim of hypocrisy...*ummm ok*.... and that I should be reported to the district manager for not upholding the the stores standards. Personally I think she has realized how ugly and unhappy she is and tries to suck the life out of sincere and pleasant employees. She then stores their poor souls in her badly fitted bra to feed on at night after she has downed her 800+ calorie beverage. Anyway I leave the floor by this time and return to wash some dishes which have piled up because a certain co-worker is a waste of labor who just stands around and stares at me all day( we'll hear more of him later). I come out 30 min later and behold she is complaining to customers about the "incident" that happened earlier. She comes to the front and demands a complaint card, I hand one out and she starts yelling at me saying I will never become anything in this world, I might as well just work at McDonald's...? By this time the anger within me cannot be withheld any longer I then push the card at her and tell her she is trash in society, the way she uses her words to address people sickens me and I don't care what kind of car she drives, how high up on the hill she lives or what God she praises because she will be nothing more than the dirt on the floor in society because she contributes nothing tactful in the life of herself or others, I then state my name and walk away. The look of disgust that a small framed girl has challenged her word was priceless, and I wish that I could have captured how she resembled the man in the pit of despair in the Princess Bride. I now call her Breve B**ch.