Our sister paper in Phoenix has a delightful series of posts called Why Your Blank Hates You. Only in place of the "Blank," they've gotten anonymous cocktail waitresses, pizza delivery guys and book buyers to dish on what drives them crazy about their customers. Naturally, when the "Blank" became "Starbucks barista," my first thought was, "Hey, that's our turf!" So after the jump, read why anonymous barista "Egon" hates you, Mr. Thinks He Detects a Hint of Cinnamon in the Ethiopian Blend.
Preach on, Brother Egon!
1.) Needless use of the lingo.Yes, Egon is kind of a grump. But then again, he also has to deal with YOU people. So cut him some slack, obey his commands and the next time you get some coffee make your barista hate you a little bit less.
I'm paid barely enough to refer to a "medium" as a "grande." You have no fucking excuses to call that medium coffee a "grande bold."
2.) Using the order as a way to showcase the useless knowledge of coffee you have received from some other dumbass barista.
I don't want to hear about the "hints of cinnamon" you can detect in the Ethiopan blend.
3.) Rigidly upholding inevitable service distinctions. (It's not like we can say "no" to your inane requests.)
For example: ordering a latte and asking that it be made at 170 degrees. Or, sending back a caramel macchiato because it mixed together. The latte WILL cool and the macchiato WILL mix together. Deal with it.
4.) Suggesting "unique" drink concoctions to me.
Yes, I know that a vanilla bean frap with a little bit of Strawberry cream and a half pump of mocha tastes like a Neopolitan. I fucking work here. Your discovery is by no means anything new. And even if these mixtures weren't obvious, I still wouldn't want to hear your train of thought.
5.) Sharing information about the progress of your so-called "big project."
Sure, I'll smile, nod, and offer compliments, but that doesn't mean I'm any less convinced of the inevitable failure of your novel than your estranged spouse "Emma" is. Dear customer, she is your wife, so she can afford to be discouragingly honest with you. I, on the other hand, must make money; if I need to brown-nose, so be it.
6.) Quizzing me or offering comments about corporate performance.
I don't give a fuck about the press interview given by the CEO, and I don't know or want to know about any regional expansion plans. I am the equivalent of a bag boy. Memorizing the drink formulas is enough of a waste of my processing power.