Terms of Endearment

There’s a guy who comes through our DT several times a week who is SO NICE he borders on creepy. I can’t tell, and I’m usually pretty good at telling.

Today he called me Sweet Potato.

That’s right, I’m a Sweet Potato. I’m gonna see if I can get Dear Hubby to start calling me that.


Always Workin for the Weekend

Ooooh, the shenanigans people were up to this weekend! Here’s the highlight reel:

1) Dear Annoying Phone Borrower, just because we let you use our phone every time you come in does NOT mean it’s ok to borrow the phone while sitting in your car at the DT window. (He wanted to place a call to see what his friends wanted since he was here – with our phone. Really?) Consider this:

  1. See those cars piling up behind you? They are thinking hateful thoughts about you!
  2. See these baristas with their jaw hanging open? They are stunned beyond words and are also thinking hateful thoughts!
  3. See those ads for cell phones all over the city? You need one! If you have enough money to come to Starbucks all the time, you have enough to pay your own phone bill.

2) Dear Construction Man Working in the Shop Next Door, no you may not turn off our water for a half hour so you can do your job. We require water to do ours!

3) Dear Santa Double, it is disturbing when you make dirty jokes to the barista at the register.

4) Dear Herd of High School Students Who Hover in Front of the Register But Don’t Order for Eight Minutes, you are nowhere near as cool as you imagine. The only thing that unnerves me more than you approaching are Herds of Hot Chocolate-Drinking Shoppers on Black Friday.

5) Dear Wife of Unknown Former Starbucks Employee, thank you for randomly delivering a pound of Sharpies through the DT window. You gave me hope for the goodness of humanity and the strength to serve all the others.

You will not pass go, you will not collect a hundred dollars.

Pro tip: For optimal results, never ever call your barista a “clucking witch” or anything similar. This will not endear her to your cause, especially if your cause is trying to pass a counterfeit bill.

Starbucks’ policy is to not accept payment with large bills. This shouldn’t come as a surprise- you’d be hard-pressed to find any fast food joint that’d let you buy tacos with a Benjamin. Even still, this policy has a tendency to annoy two types of people: Middle-aged white women driving large SUV’s and scammers. All others will reasonably attempt another form of payment or abandon their caffeinated cause.

I’ll discuss MAWWDLSUV’s another time, but for now, let’s talk about the scammer… This fella barrels through my DT with his young kid in the passenger seat when my sweet little barista sweetly informs him that we don’t accept $100’s. In response to this information, he yells out crowd favorites, such as “WHAT, DO Y’ALL NOT TAKE AMERICAN MONEY HERE?” and “JUST TAKE YOUR KEYS AND OPEN THAT LITTLE DRAWER AND GIVE ME SOME CHANGE!”  He then proceeds to call my barista an unflattering name and squeal off. Uh, buh bye.

After leaving my store, turns out he went to a nearby Starbucks (passing at least three banks, any of which would have gladly broken his bill) and tried to get them to take his AMERICAN MONEY, too. Can we say, red flag? When his request is denied there he proceeds to loudly cuss the ENTIRE STORE (in front of his child, who probably would have been better off unattended in a running vehicle). After loudly accusing every partner, every customer in line, and every customer in the store of being a CLUCKING WITCH  (or a MOTHER CLUCKER,  depending on the insultee’s gender), he storms out to take his business elsewhere. Again, buh bye.

All of that story to say, my Green Apron and I will do MANY things when asked kindly (or heck, even up to semi-rudely). I *might* even break a large bill or buy your coffee for you if I’m feeling benevolent and you don’t set off my inner scammer sensor (which is well-honed and toned). But call just one of my fellow Green Aprons a wordy dird and you’re not getting squat. (And when I say “you”, I mean that figuratively as I know that you you would never do such a thing).

Where’s My Paper, Boy?

We sell the NY Times right alongside the FW Star Telegram at my store. Coffee plus news: Not an overly imaginative combo, but clearly meeting the needs of our customers. Well, most customers.

I just noticed the notes last week, but, according to employees, they’ve been appearing for over a month now. They are hand-written on memo paper and TAPED to my newspaper stand; Little angry comments from an uphappy NY Times customer to the NY Times delivery guy. (Because, you know, there’s only one paper boy in Fort Worth AND he checks my stand for his personal mail daily. )

The notes always include:

  1. The subscriber’s home address
  2. Continued disappointment with failure to receive paper, despite subscription
  3. A sarcastic-cum-witty remark (i.e. “Am I going to have to help you deliver those papers?”)

The notes never include:

  1. The subscriber’s name
  2. Decent punctuation
  3. An indication that the subscriber is sane

I’ve found three of these this week. I am tempted to drop off a week’s worth of old papers (and maybe a flaming bag of poo) on his doorstep since I have his address. This guy is clearly unhappy with his service. Why not drop the subscription and buy one at Starbucks everyday (he’s making the trip already!)? Better yet, why not CALL CUSTOMER SERVICE?

I’ve been throwing the notes away, but the next one I find (oh, there will be another), I think I’ll post on http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/.

I’m Not Available

Ewww. I got hit on by a 50-year old security officer at Starbucks yesterday.

I was sitting in a booth doing a little studying before my shift when he walked in. He hovered all kinds of weird-like by my table until I made eye contact. We greeted each other. I looked back down to my work. Then:

Larry: “Mind if I join you?” (makes like he’s going to slide in on MY side of the booth.)
Me: “Actually, I’m studying.” (give him a frown-y face.)
Larry: “Ok.”
Leaves to go get coffee, then comes back and sits down opposite me.
Me: (Head down in an UN-welcoming posture. Acknowledge the sit only with a brief and annoyed glance.)
Larry: “So, you’re married?” (Apparently not a believer in beating around the bush.)
Me: Slightest head nod in the negative.
Larry: “Have a boyfriend?”
Me: Staring maybe glaring and nostrils definitely flaring.
Larry: “Maybe I could give you a call sometime?”
Me: “No.” (firmly shaking head in the negative.) “but thanks for asking.” (body language does not, in fact, say “thanks for asking,” but something more along the lines of “buzz off fart face!”)
I return to my studying and he finishes his cake and coffee in silence. Upon leaving, he tries to shake my hand and promises he’ll see me around.

WHY, I ask? Why must men be creepy? Where are the good looking, full of social graces, knowing how to pick up on context clues, witty men in my age bracket?