About the amount of fucks which I do not give. Please explain to me why you feel that it is within my responsibility to know (using my Jedi mind tricks) that your incompetent boyfriend wanted me to reload his card first before his transaction?
Oh wait. Because he handed me a five dollar bill and said explicitly that it was “all he had.” By logic, I rung his (or should I say your, because he’s your bitch) drink up as a cash transaction. And what do I know? The next thing I see is your looming figure over the counter with your receipt in hand for a drink that you pay $3.05 for when you should be paying more (but you’re too much of a loophole-abusing cheap bastard), demanding a phone number to corporate so they could “fix this problem.”
I state at his receipt, then at him, blankly. “What problem?” I ask. “Is there any way you can put this transaction on my Starbucks card?” I answer, “No… There isn’t. Once you’ve been rung up as a cash transaction, there is no way to transfer that onto your card.” Abruptly, he replies, “Well, we always reload our card with cash first before the transaction.”
Hold on there, asshole. First of all, no you don’t. Your pussy-whipped bitch over there with his laptop might, since he seems to be coerced into paying for your drink 99% of the time, and 99% of the time he’s struggling to scrounge up change after his card has failed to cover your drink (which in reality, should be well over $4 for an iced Venti breve vanilla latte with 6 ice cubes). Second of all, he didn’t even say the word “reload” during any duration of our interaction, nor did he show any intention of reloading your card. Third, when the fuck was I expected to be a mind reader in addition to being a barista? Did I miss that fucking memo?
Point being, is that you’re just angry at me for making you pay for what’re you’re getting when I rung your drink up with cash and not your gold card. Well, sorry I don’t have telepathic abilities… Wait, no I’m not.
I just feel sorry for my sanity for having to put up with a cheap bastard who can’t even get over having to pay for vanilla and extra dairy… You Oompa loompa Quasimodo looking fool.
Two months ago.
I was having an uber-shitty day, and was working an uber-long shift.
It was near closing time and I was the only one on the floor, my coworkers cleaning in the backroom. Two teenage girls run in, screaming with laughter, and stumble up to the register.
girl: “How much is that?”…
… I felt bad for 5 seconds, but then my conscience didn’t agree.
So what did I do? Continued showcasing my face, contorted by half disbelief and half disgust. Whoops.
Shame on you. If you can’t afford to buy a beverage or any other product from us, S-K-I-D-A-D-D-L-E. Fuck making your three dollar drink into a free refill. I wrote that cup last night - funny how you brought it back as a “refill” that you bought today. Unless I have a goddamn doppelganger, that couldn’t be possible… so fuck you.
That’s funny that you say that, because chances are, I am here in the same store for SEVEN TO EIGHT HOURS A DAY, FIVE DAYS OUT OF THE WEEK. I am pretty confident that I know just what the fuck I am doing. I also know that our vanilla soy also congeals at times, but there is nothing wrong with the milk. But for you to not even: taste it and see if you’re alright with it, accuse me of using “the wrong milk” because you know what it’s “supposed to look like,” and sigh as if you’re displeased even though the drink was made exactly how you ordered it, somehow that doesn’t sit well with me. Take your drink and go fuck yourself! Have a good day!
First off, I completely understand how forgetting to make a drink decaf is arguably the biggest mistake a barista can make. Now, on to business.
Hi. I’m Mike, and I’ve been a barista for a little over 4 years. I prefer being on bar making drinks versus being on register. Making…
It’s already been a hectic day, and QASA (the Nazis of food safety and cleanliness) left us with a score of 77.9%. Needless to say, our manager wasn’t in the best of moods. On top of that, the frappalanche from cold bar seems to be never-ending. I’m stuck on cold bar, our drive thru headset is having problems because it won’t “ding” every time a customer drives by, and the construction out front makes it seem like we’re closed. This leads to dumb people driving past the box thinking that we’re closed (um, hello? There are 50 other cars in front of you) and countless drinks being made on the fly because they ordered at the window. Taking every order not knowing if the car is pulled up all the way can get a bit frustrating, and it got to the point where I would say the order not knowing what I am saying exactly… I felt like a robot. In the one ear and out through the other. Gah! To top it off, maybe it was the heat making people more retarded or it was just me being plain fucking angry, but I was just about to lose my cool when some doucher said:
Him: Can I get a mocha chip frappuccino?
Me: Sure! Do you mean the java chip frappuccino? Him: (louder) A MOCHA CHIP FRAPPUCINO?
Me: I heard that. Do you want coffee in it or no coffee? The one with coffee is called “java chip frappuccino”, and the one without coffee is the “double chocolaty chip frappuccino.”
Him: Uhh… I don’t know. With coffee. The mocha chip one.
At this point, I was quite frankly about to stab myself in the eye with a goddamn straw. JESUS H. CHRIST. I literally put the blender down, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.
Me: Alright. The JAVA CHIP frappuccino you said? We’ll see you at the window, sir.
Just like the customer who repeatedly asked if we could do our vanilla bean frappuccino “light.” No, we cannot. The most we can do is used nonfat milk and no whipped cream. I must have repeated myself four times - and no, the answer still remains the same. Hey people, you know those things on the sides of your ears? They’re not just for show, ya know? Using them might work out in your favor.