Saturday, July 12, 2014
Sunday, July 19, 2009
First Edition of Why Is This A Puzzle?
Quite often you will find customers in coffee shops who are not only lazy, but also ignorant.
Instead of simply finding something on their own, they will ask where they might find it.
Rather than turning around and walking approximately twelve steps to the right, they will ask a barista for a fork. Really? I make drinks, not carry silverware in my back pocket.
Why Is This A Puzzle?
- It is a self-serve toaster, woman. You just stick the halved bagel in the slot and it toasts it for you. Why is this a puzzle?
- We have bathroom keys to keep the homeless people out of the bathrooms. Pick up the key that says "Women" or "Men," and walk over to the door. Put the key in the lock. Turn. Why is this a puzzle?
Instead of simply finding something on their own, they will ask where they might find it.
Rather than turning around and walking approximately twelve steps to the right, they will ask a barista for a fork. Really? I make drinks, not carry silverware in my back pocket.
Why Is This A Puzzle?
- It is a self-serve toaster, woman. You just stick the halved bagel in the slot and it toasts it for you. Why is this a puzzle?
- We have bathroom keys to keep the homeless people out of the bathrooms. Pick up the key that says "Women" or "Men," and walk over to the door. Put the key in the lock. Turn. Why is this a puzzle?
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Order Typo!
Recently while I was taking an order from a customer, they asked for a small latte with three shots.
I rang the order through, and then realized the mistake I had made while typing in the modification.
Enjoy!
P.S. - to keep the cops around here happy, we give our most loyal cop-customers free coffee drinks. That way they continue to shoo away the homeless people who try to use our bathrooms for free.
I rang the order through, and then realized the mistake I had made while typing in the modification.
Enjoy!
P.S. - to keep the cops around here happy, we give our most loyal cop-customers free coffee drinks. That way they continue to shoo away the homeless people who try to use our bathrooms for free.
Gotta Stay Grounded
I have to admit, some days it can be very boring being a barista.
On slow days, tips can be downright atrocious, and besides being bored, you are tempted to just eat and drink everything in sight.
Today has been anything but boring.
My shop sits on the corner of a very busy intersection, and it is notorious for its slow lights and high traffic flow. Even though I have been working at this shop for a year and a half, I have only seen one teensy fender-bender.
Until today, that is. No one seems to have heard it, and I only noticed the accident when I saw that everyone was staring out the front windows. Two cars had collided in the very center of the intersection, so I can assume that the red SUV had attempted to squeeze through a yellow light and did not quite make it. The small green sedan T-boned the SUV, and suddenly there was a lot of chaos in the intersection. There had to be at least seven people involved, including two teenage boys. The driver of the green sedan had a nice suit on and reminded me of a lawyer dad of a girl from my high school class. The two teenage boys just milled about slowly, pointing and shaking their heads, while Suited Man frantically started making phone calls and gesturing wildly to punctuate his invisible conversation. The SUV passengers began taking photos of the damage, including one of the deployed airbag in the green sedan.
It did not appear that any of the people were hurt, but a firetruck, five cop cars and one ambulance showed up immediately.
Shortly after a tow truck had pulled away the battered sedan, the skies turned dark and angry, and it was obvious that a storm was rolling our way. My lifeguard friend texted me to say that his pool had closed for lightning about 20 miles away, but I had not noticed any major storm activity yet in our area.
Soon the skies opened up and a torrential rain started falling, scaring the living daylights out of bike riders and the patrons sitting on the patio outside our shop. People rushed in, soaked and bewildered as the windows on our shop became so opaque with the heavy rainfall that we could barely see the sidewalk outside.
The monsoon continued for about twenty-five minutes before letting up.
We did not have to wait long for more excitement to ensue, however. I was standing in what we call the "pirates' cove," which is a small food prepping space behind the counter area that one enters through a doorway, when I saw a white flash and heard an amazing BAM. I have seen lightning very strike within a mile of me before, so I recognized the peculiar sound nearby lightning makes when it zaps something.
I rushed to the doorway of the pirates' cove, and when a little boy lunching at a table saw me emerge, he shouted, "LIGHTNING!" and pointed wildly out the window.
My eyes followed his gesture and I saw that the traffic light directly across the street from the shop front had been struck. A large plume of steel blue smoke was dissipating, and I could see that a sidewalk tile had been upturned and was jutting violently out of the ground. The light pole was a darker gray than normal, and I felt excitement rising into my throat as everyone gathered around the double doors to peer across the intersection. Cars began slithering slowly past the now-dead lights, and I was grateful that they were being cautious since the earlier accident had sharpened everyone's sense of mortality.
I grabbed my coworker Grasshopper (a nickname, of course) and another coworker and we made our way across the street to assess the damage.
We discovered that the crosswalk buttons had blown out from the charge passing down the pole, and they were hanging on by their wires. We are assuming the the bolt passed through the traffic light's pole, grounded into the ground below it, and the impact was so strong that it shattered the sidewalk tiles around the pole. A concrete slab that was meant to cover the underground elements of the traffic light was up-turned and all askew.
As we stood there, Grasshopper took pictures, and I called the police to report the incident. When he heard where I was, his voice rose a little and he sounded mildly more enthusiastic. Like I said earlier, our intersection is notorious. He said that traffic control would be on its way immediately. I said thank-you and ended the call and realized I was starting to get wet all over from the light rain that was lingering. Under the cover of GrassHopper's apron, we dashed back to the shop and discussed the incident with patrons.
Some of the patrons were on their cellphones, holding feverish and conversations with friends and family about the nearly ineffable episode. Other patrons simply shook their heads and returned to their activities.
Lightning is amazing to me. It can be such a beautiful phenomenon, but it also can be very deadly.
However, if you are like Roy Sullivan of Virginia, you may just survive a lightning strike. He holds the Guinness Book of World Records for the most recorded lightning strikes being received. Can you guess how many that is?
Seven. SEVEN! The first one just blew off a toenail, if I remember correctly. The subsequent strikes singed his hair and delivered a few nasty burns, but he managed to survive all of them.
My friend Luna informed me that once you have been hit by lightning, you gain a higher charge of sorts within your body, which may attract more lightning eventually.
I imagine it in a Mario sense, such as the lightning strikes, BUHBAM and *bing* you are awarded a 1up. If you accumulate enough, instead of receiving another life, you get hit by a lightning bolt.
Overall, this was one of the most exciting days I have ever had at the shop.
Luckily, we had no crazy customers to speak of, which is always an epic win.
Attached are pictures of the damage!
On slow days, tips can be downright atrocious, and besides being bored, you are tempted to just eat and drink everything in sight.
Today has been anything but boring.
My shop sits on the corner of a very busy intersection, and it is notorious for its slow lights and high traffic flow. Even though I have been working at this shop for a year and a half, I have only seen one teensy fender-bender.
Until today, that is. No one seems to have heard it, and I only noticed the accident when I saw that everyone was staring out the front windows. Two cars had collided in the very center of the intersection, so I can assume that the red SUV had attempted to squeeze through a yellow light and did not quite make it. The small green sedan T-boned the SUV, and suddenly there was a lot of chaos in the intersection. There had to be at least seven people involved, including two teenage boys. The driver of the green sedan had a nice suit on and reminded me of a lawyer dad of a girl from my high school class. The two teenage boys just milled about slowly, pointing and shaking their heads, while Suited Man frantically started making phone calls and gesturing wildly to punctuate his invisible conversation. The SUV passengers began taking photos of the damage, including one of the deployed airbag in the green sedan.
It did not appear that any of the people were hurt, but a firetruck, five cop cars and one ambulance showed up immediately.
Shortly after a tow truck had pulled away the battered sedan, the skies turned dark and angry, and it was obvious that a storm was rolling our way. My lifeguard friend texted me to say that his pool had closed for lightning about 20 miles away, but I had not noticed any major storm activity yet in our area.
Soon the skies opened up and a torrential rain started falling, scaring the living daylights out of bike riders and the patrons sitting on the patio outside our shop. People rushed in, soaked and bewildered as the windows on our shop became so opaque with the heavy rainfall that we could barely see the sidewalk outside.
The monsoon continued for about twenty-five minutes before letting up.
We did not have to wait long for more excitement to ensue, however. I was standing in what we call the "pirates' cove," which is a small food prepping space behind the counter area that one enters through a doorway, when I saw a white flash and heard an amazing BAM. I have seen lightning very strike within a mile of me before, so I recognized the peculiar sound nearby lightning makes when it zaps something.
I rushed to the doorway of the pirates' cove, and when a little boy lunching at a table saw me emerge, he shouted, "LIGHTNING!" and pointed wildly out the window.
My eyes followed his gesture and I saw that the traffic light directly across the street from the shop front had been struck. A large plume of steel blue smoke was dissipating, and I could see that a sidewalk tile had been upturned and was jutting violently out of the ground. The light pole was a darker gray than normal, and I felt excitement rising into my throat as everyone gathered around the double doors to peer across the intersection. Cars began slithering slowly past the now-dead lights, and I was grateful that they were being cautious since the earlier accident had sharpened everyone's sense of mortality.
I grabbed my coworker Grasshopper (a nickname, of course) and another coworker and we made our way across the street to assess the damage.
We discovered that the crosswalk buttons had blown out from the charge passing down the pole, and they were hanging on by their wires. We are assuming the the bolt passed through the traffic light's pole, grounded into the ground below it, and the impact was so strong that it shattered the sidewalk tiles around the pole. A concrete slab that was meant to cover the underground elements of the traffic light was up-turned and all askew.
As we stood there, Grasshopper took pictures, and I called the police to report the incident. When he heard where I was, his voice rose a little and he sounded mildly more enthusiastic. Like I said earlier, our intersection is notorious. He said that traffic control would be on its way immediately. I said thank-you and ended the call and realized I was starting to get wet all over from the light rain that was lingering. Under the cover of GrassHopper's apron, we dashed back to the shop and discussed the incident with patrons.
Some of the patrons were on their cellphones, holding feverish and conversations with friends and family about the nearly ineffable episode. Other patrons simply shook their heads and returned to their activities.
Lightning is amazing to me. It can be such a beautiful phenomenon, but it also can be very deadly.
However, if you are like Roy Sullivan of Virginia, you may just survive a lightning strike. He holds the Guinness Book of World Records for the most recorded lightning strikes being received. Can you guess how many that is?
Seven. SEVEN! The first one just blew off a toenail, if I remember correctly. The subsequent strikes singed his hair and delivered a few nasty burns, but he managed to survive all of them.
My friend Luna informed me that once you have been hit by lightning, you gain a higher charge of sorts within your body, which may attract more lightning eventually.
I imagine it in a Mario sense, such as the lightning strikes, BUHBAM and *bing* you are awarded a 1up. If you accumulate enough, instead of receiving another life, you get hit by a lightning bolt.
Overall, this was one of the most exciting days I have ever had at the shop.
Luckily, we had no crazy customers to speak of, which is always an epic win.
Attached are pictures of the damage!
Saturday, July 4, 2009
A Breed Apart
Welcome to my blog!
I understand that I am not the first barista to create a blog about experiences "behind the bar (as one blogger cleverly titled theirs)," but I still wish to record the daily antics and trials that ensue while working at a coffee shop.
I believe you have to be a special kind of person to work at a coffee shop, and while I will not name which shop I work in for privacy and of course, those pesky legal reasons, I will give details about my work days there and the ridiculous people and events.
The title "That's Not Your Mocha!" comes from one certain phenomenon that happens quite often in coffee shops. This phenomenon occurs when one customer either ignorantly or blindly walks away with someone else's drink, and therefore causes mass confusion within the shop for any subsequent customer awaiting a drink and all baristi involved.
Oh, and let me clarify: When I say "coffee shop," I am excluding Starbucks.
Starbucks counts as a massive empirical giant of a place-where-one-purchases-coffee-drinks.
When I think coffee shop, I think of a small shop, with a cozy atmosphere, a friendly staff and a bevy of signature beverages.
Sure, I admit to popping into a Starbucks every once in a while, simply because they have some things that I am not able to find elsewhere. However, I am keen on finding shops that have something like Starbucks' that replaces theirs. For example, a small shop near a college campus in my city has a fantastic matcha blended drink that gives me reason not to order a green tea frappuccino.
Although for many it is a reason not to venture into small shops, I enjoy the risk one takes by ordering the same drink more than once. Many small shops use manual espresso and steaming machines, whereas Starbucks mainly uses automatic machines.
Basically, each drink you order from Starbucks is made by a robot, and that is why they are perfect.
But small shops' drinks are made by a special breed of human called "baristi," who are not perfect. So the second matcha blended drink I ordered at the afore-mentioned shop was so sweet I think I walked out of there with a sugar high. But no worries; I love me some sugar!
So yes!
Welcome. I hope you enjoy my rants and raves, and also indulge in finding humor in the crazy life behind the bar. I encourage you to laugh and feel sorry for me. Or praise my lack of humility when it comes to serving the idiots of the world, or praise my wonderful memory when it comes to recalling customers' names and drinks.
Anyway that you have it, please enjoy your stay at my blog.
<3,
MochaMama
I understand that I am not the first barista to create a blog about experiences "behind the bar (as one blogger cleverly titled theirs)," but I still wish to record the daily antics and trials that ensue while working at a coffee shop.
I believe you have to be a special kind of person to work at a coffee shop, and while I will not name which shop I work in for privacy and of course, those pesky legal reasons, I will give details about my work days there and the ridiculous people and events.
The title "That's Not Your Mocha!" comes from one certain phenomenon that happens quite often in coffee shops. This phenomenon occurs when one customer either ignorantly or blindly walks away with someone else's drink, and therefore causes mass confusion within the shop for any subsequent customer awaiting a drink and all baristi involved.
Oh, and let me clarify: When I say "coffee shop," I am excluding Starbucks.
Starbucks counts as a massive empirical giant of a place-where-one-purchases-coffee-drinks.
When I think coffee shop, I think of a small shop, with a cozy atmosphere, a friendly staff and a bevy of signature beverages.
Sure, I admit to popping into a Starbucks every once in a while, simply because they have some things that I am not able to find elsewhere. However, I am keen on finding shops that have something like Starbucks' that replaces theirs. For example, a small shop near a college campus in my city has a fantastic matcha blended drink that gives me reason not to order a green tea frappuccino.
Although for many it is a reason not to venture into small shops, I enjoy the risk one takes by ordering the same drink more than once. Many small shops use manual espresso and steaming machines, whereas Starbucks mainly uses automatic machines.
Basically, each drink you order from Starbucks is made by a robot, and that is why they are perfect.
But small shops' drinks are made by a special breed of human called "baristi," who are not perfect. So the second matcha blended drink I ordered at the afore-mentioned shop was so sweet I think I walked out of there with a sugar high. But no worries; I love me some sugar!
So yes!
Welcome. I hope you enjoy my rants and raves, and also indulge in finding humor in the crazy life behind the bar. I encourage you to laugh and feel sorry for me. Or praise my lack of humility when it comes to serving the idiots of the world, or praise my wonderful memory when it comes to recalling customers' names and drinks.
Anyway that you have it, please enjoy your stay at my blog.
<3,
MochaMama
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