Why do I always get the stupid ones? I suppose it’s because I work the lunch hour and that’s when all the idiots flock here for their pick-me-up cup of coffee. Ha! Birds of a feather, they’re all the same. Probably none of them got their college diploma, not like me. And soon I’ll be in a comfy news studio, surrounded by intellectual people for once. But for now I’m stuck at Cool Beans coffeehouse catering to these imbeciles. I swear every Tom, Dick and Harry comes in here for a cappuccino! People are so predictable; by now I know them just as well as I know coffee: tall, short, light, dark, low fat, nonfat, skinny etc. Like that snob over there! She came in and ordered a novel which went something like:
“One caramel Frappuccino Grande with whipped cream, unless it’s out of a can then Cool whip if you have it, if not then just a plain Frappuccino, no Grande no caramel and make it snappy.”
I don’t know how many times I have to tell these customers that only Starbucks carries Frappuccinos. They’re some kind of coffee hybrid those smarta**es came up with, which is what I tell this girl, in so many words, and she goes,
“Well that’s no excuse! Maybe if you guys applied yourselves you could have a better selection! Don’t you ever think of the customer? So what do you have?” and I say, “I’ve got just the thing.”
So I leave and come back with an ice tea. She looks at it down her nose like I poisoned it or something and says, “Is it cold enough,” and I just smile and say, “Hold it next to your heart; it’ll get there.”
I mean what else was I supposed to give her? Her frosty attitude made it pretty clear that a nice cold glass of ice tea was just what she needed. Oh and that’s not even the end of it.
See that guy at table two? When I went to take his order he asked for ‘a tall, dark, cup of Joe.’ I said, “Your name’s Joe isn’t it,” do you know what he said? “How’d Joe know?” and busted a gut. Great, a comedian. So I say, “Gee Joe, you certainly know how to milk a joke,” and he goes “Yes, by any beans necessary! Haha!” And I nod politely even though I could strangle him and say, “I’ll be right back Joe,” and I leave him slapping his knee and come back with an espresso. He asks why an espresso and I just say “Because you espressoed yourself,” and left him with tears streaming down his face and calling after me “Thanks a latte! Haha!”
Yeah, he expressed himself all right. If coffee were brains he’d only have enough to grind out loads of hot air, which is what an espresso is so I thought it fitting for Joe. It’s like I always say: you are what you drink. Oh here comes third one, I got this. Let’s see, she’s got a beret on. What is she French? Oh this is too easy, hold on I’ll be right back with a French roast coffee.