Allow me to enlighten you as to what it’s like waking up at 3 am every day and rushing off to open the only Java Temple in the terminal.
Let me just tell you about the angry masses of ill-mannered adults I encounter on a daily basis.
Let me express to you the surges and scales of emotions I experience before 7am every morning.
I would like to begin by kindly asking you all to afford me a smidgen of common decency, a minuscule amount of deductive reasoning and the shallowest tide pool of common courtesy known in your self-centered universe, dear early morning travelers.
A letter to my early birds,
Dear early morning travelers,
If you happen to enter the terminal at 4:20 am and you find yourself in front of our dimly lit caffeine haven and both of your future barista’s are clearly otherwise engaged- one in a wide open pastry case quickly stocking this morning’s fresh pastry delivery and the other swiftly adding up the change in the register and simultaneously brewing the last two coffee pots- then common sense should suffice to inform you that, “No. We are not open yet because the register is being counted in and the pastries are still in fluorescent pink boxes on an ugly brown cart that you rudely shoved past in the interest of being first in line to a closed coffee shop. I beg you to please understand that the only reason that I am withholding service from you at this point is to ruin your morning and thereafter, your entire day, to witness you impatiently fuming from a close distance, and also, to make you choose between a decent cup of bean juice or boarding your overly priced flight. Fear not, because in a precisely ten minutes you will ambush me, you and 13 more terrible than you, for your cup of Joe or your “sugar-free, nonfat, decaf, soy vanilla latte with half the powder and extra foam and no whip cream” at which point I will ask you what size you would like for your unnecessarily wordy espresso drink and you will dumbly glare in my general direction and repeat your mouthful of modifications at half the speed enunciating like there’s no tomorrow whilst dramatically rolling your eyes at this half-wit college student irritating you with her uselessness. To which I will smile, and assure you that “Yes, thank you, I got that part; but what size cup would you like it in?” Slightly embarrassed you will try to make up for it by demanding that I show you all three cups beside each other before you can make up your mind, because every 12, 16 & 20 oz. paper cup is drastically different. After all the hullabaloo is behind us and we’ve perfected your drink order you will grumble about the “airport prices” and state taxes being ridiculous, as you count out your pennies to give me exact change. Don’t worry, there’s no one behind you. Then you will follow me over to the espresso bar, stand on your tiptoes, nose to the glass watching my every movement as I am making your drink. I would like to ask that you do your best to pressure me to hurry up because you’re in a rush, and to not forget it’s decaf because you’ll die if it’s normal; please repeat at least 3 times for best results. Once I gently place your cup of science on the bar, calling out the string of absurd specification, now is the perfect time to inform me that you wanted it iced. Dear, sweet, early morning traveler, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Thank you for being such a ray of sunshine at this ungodly hour.
Sincerely, your imbecilic early morning barista.
On a closing note, I would like to inform you that:
- “A vanilla” is not, and never has been a drink order. We put vanilla in every drink that is not a regular latte or a regular coffee, and sometimes we even put vanilla in drinks that also have other flavors like, chocolate, pumpkin and caramel. Because here at *@&#% we strongly believe in diabetes to the masses. We are not mind readers.
- “A small, black, regular coffee with room for cream” is a double contradiction. If it’s black, you don’t want cream. If it’s regular, it’s not a small. So stop.
- When you say, “Can I have a toasted bagel?” You really deserve to be slapped. Yes, you MAY have one of the THREE kinds of bagels that you have been staring at, but only if you tell me which of the three kinds you would like. I don’t read minds.
- I, as your barista, am not trying to cheat you out of your once extra ounce of coffee when I ask, “Would you like room for cream?” I am simply hoping beyond hope that you won’t pour your coffee in my trash can when you change your mind in 5 seconds.
- Barista’s are not whip cream pushers. We don’t put whip cream on every drink, and we are not trying to fool you into unwittingly consuming extra calories in the form of a delicious whipped topping. Your 700 calorie drink has done enough already, and the whipped cream is up to you.
- If we unfortunately and unintentionally run out of some item, we, as the barista’s, are not at fault and also have no way of magically producing this item out of thin air. Your tantrum and spiteful looks won’t change anything- except our attitudes.
- We are not beneath you because we are serving you coffee, please treat us as the human beings we are.
- We are doing our best, working our hardest and moving as fast as we can. Remember, we’ve been up since three and we’ve been charming & cheerful since 4 am. Your impatience and poor time management are not our problems, but we are still doing our best to accommodate you.
- Lastly, “A hot tea” is not a drink order. We have roughly 30 kinds of tea, please pick one. We are happy to assist you, but I reiterate, we don’t read minds.
I guess that the myth I’m really trying to blow out of the water here is that BARISTA’S ARE NOT MIND READERS.