By Maude Perkins

Customers say – and do – the darndest things.
“Grande Large”
A woman orders her coffee this way every single time she comes in. And then she gets mad when you don’t know what the hell to do. Lady, you just ordered two sizes and no actual drink there. Every time she comes in, I correct her and tell her how to order her medium coffee in a large cup, but she would just assume go through this frustrating routine each and every time she comes in and says it to somebody new.
“Blueberry”
Blueberry what!? There are rarely less than four blueberry somethings in the pastry case at any given time. Pointing your finger while you say, “Blueberry,” also doesn’t help. We speak a common language for a reason. And again, we take the time to put those little labels on the pastry trays for a reason too. Put the two together and let’s keep this line a-moving. Likewise, “Coffee cake,” is not sufficient information. There are three of those. And guess what? One of them has blueberries!

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Posted on February 28, 2007

By Maude Perkins

Aside from my aforementioned resistance to suggestively sell, I have compiled a short list of other reasons that the world’s finest coffee purveyors may not appreciate giving me a paycheck.
1. Whenever we are supposed to sample the latest featured pastry to the customers, I typically only end up sampling about half of what I cut up. The other half goes towards my personal product knowledge gain. I like to taste enough to be able to articulate effectively to the customers, of course. Aside from my genuine desire to be a knowledgeable employee, I am being realistic as well. You would not believe how many of our customers refuse free, bite-size samples because they are watching their weight. That, to me, is a sad existence. Especially since, as we all know, everything tastes better in sample size.

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Posted on February 18, 2007

By Maude Perkins

Nothing like a long streak of sub-zero temperatures to enliven my bitterness. Every single time that front door opens at work, and the negative degree wind comes a-gusting up to the register on the down parkas and fur coats of suburbia’s finest, I find myself loathing customers even more.
Greetings From Earth
I would like to clarify that when another human being says “Hello” to you, a customary response would be something along the lines of – assuming we are being strictly hypothetical in English – I don’t know . . . “Hello” might work. An improper response, on the other hand, could sound like “Grande coffee.” Or even, “Give me one of those muffins.” I’m not prying into your personal space, I am not asking how your boring family is doing, I am just saying hello. No matter who you are or what stocks you own, you are not above greeting another human.

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Posted on February 11, 2007

By Maude Perkins

The Man has spoken. I don’t have the right personality to do my job effectively. Or at least that’s what my district manager says. She has made this confident assessment just one day after meeting me.
Yes, despite an extensive history of happy customers and impeccable job performance, a perfect record of log-recording, a masterful and speedy career as a barista, and three years as a distinguished member of the coffee culture, I recently received word that none of that matters because I am too sarcastic. And I refuse to suggestively sell, which is apparently the only element of the job that means anything to anyone who isn’t actually standing behind a register, forced to suggestively sell.
This isn’t a surprise by any stretch, but Corporate wants us to be fake. Like the transforming costume of a superhero, once my apron goes on I am supposed to become a phony-baloney in-your-face salesman, leaving all traces of my personality at the door. I don’t get paid enough to put on an enthusiastic act about pastries, nor raise my voice to a nicer, more happy-to-see-you octave.

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Posted on February 2, 2007

By Maude Perkins

One of the really repugnant things about my corporate coffee chain is that anyone can be hired right into store management. Well, they get hired as “assistant managers” (although they have no power to delegate in the manner that their title would otherwise allow, seeing as how they have never made a latte) and breeze through the process to learn the business in a matter of weeks.
And when I say “the process” I’m talking about earning the barista dues like the rest of us, learning the ropes and what it takes to run an actual coffee shop, as opposed to say, a nail salon or a pizza place. One of my former district managers came from Pizza Hut. So she sorta had some vague idea of what was going on . . . our product was, after all, edible.

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Posted on January 23, 2007

By Maude Perkins

Here we are, two weeks into the New Year, and my resolution to not hate everyone so goddamn much has already gotten a little shaky. Resolutions are only valid through January right? I’m hoping I can de-resolve in February and still feel like I’ve accomplished enough to carry me through the year.
But until then, I am a new person in 2007. You want a latte? Only if I can give you a big smile along with it! You haven’t been enriched today? Then I’m not doing my job! There’s a spill in the Kids’ Corner? Let me get my bucket!
Okay, so I’m not entirely convincing myself either. But I’m working on it. I have enlisted the help of a stress ball, personalized with a Sharpie, “Try not to kill people.” This seems to be a healthy reminder for my day-to-day.

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Posted on January 18, 2007

By Maude Perkins

Let us now pause to reflect on some of the highlights of working in customer service the last couple of weeks, before moving on to whatever horrors 2007 will bring.
Hot Glove
For our quaint suburban town’s annual Christmas Walk, where residents gather in the town center to compare fur coats, the bank next door to us requested we make them 600 hot cocoas for the event. Amidst the craziness of the night, some kid left behind a pair of gloves, which we threw into the back room with the rest of the lost and found. It wasn’t until the end of the night, when the bank returned our giant hot cocoa containers, that my coworkers opened the lid to one of them only to discover that one of the gloves had somehow found its way inside the five-gallon cocoa urn and spent the evening floating around in it.
I still find it difficult not to laugh riotously when my memory returns to my coworkers’ discovery. Not only because the bank’s large cocoa request on this busy night was a major inconvenience for our store, but because I can only imagine where that little glove had been. Wiped across a runny nose or two, I suspect. Or perhaps run along the back of many-a-cute neighborhood dogs on the way to the Christmas Walk. Either way, it makes me smile to picture all those yuppies drinking the delicious free cocoa, garnished with a dirty glove.

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Posted on January 3, 2007

By Maude Perkins

When I wrote about our motley weekend bunch for last week’s posting, I had no idea the overwhelming response I would receive, nor that it would arouse a sequel. My devoted related readers appreciated my uncharacteristically sparing use of the word “fuck.” And my sister thought it was good of me to write a “nice” column right before Christmas. Ha! I guaranteed her this was not a decision I consciously made, but rather the column appeared nice because I didn’t actually talk about any of my regular customers for a change.
But perhaps the best thing to come from last week’s column was the response from my tittilicious co-worker’s husband, Niles. I’ve talked about Niles in past posts, specifically about how he is a cynical sonuva- just like me. For the past eight weeks of red and green disgust, Niles and I have been in a duel trying to see which of us hates Christmas more.
I took the lead about a week prior to Christmas when I developed a nasty flu and my shriveled heart actually shrunk three sizes, as I had even less energy to deal with the holiday shit hitting the fan. I suffered through my work week, which was only enhanced by two random nosebleeds in front of customers, and the sudden appearance of hundreds of more assholes than I usually see.
It was this past Saturday, on the eve before the Eve, when Niles came into the store and purchased a gift card. He handed it to my sick disoriented self at the bar and instructed me to buy the homeless people’s coffees that evening, on him. Needless to say, I was very touched by his gesture.
Saturday turned into the most hectic and stressful day I have encountered in my barista history. And my week-long illness took an unfortunate turn into an ear infection, rendering me closer to useless and also partially deaf. I was miserable beyond words by the time the homeless people arrived early that night.

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Posted on December 27, 2006

By Maude Perkins

Nothing better illustrates the word “juxtaposition” like Saturday nights and Sunday mornings at my store. I believe I have so far aptly conveyed that the majority of my customer base is made up of white, upper-class Americans. With the exception of the occasional landscapers or construction workers who trickle in from the yards of the rich white people, there are very few diversified exceptions to this rule.
Aside from Saturday nights and Sunday mornings, that is.
On the weekends, many traveling homeless people land in the suburban location of my store to use the church shelter available to them. The only catch is that they must relocate during Saturday night and Sunday morning services so that the rich people can pray.

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Posted on December 18, 2006

By Maude Perkins

Even the simple things can be infinitely complex when you work for a worldwide corporate coffee chain. Take our refill policy, for example. Corporate HQ requires that patrons seeking refills haven’t left the store since their initial purchase. And refills are only good for an hour after the initial purchase. And refills aren’t free; we charge 50 cents per.
Still, my store is particularly liberal when it comes to refills, which after all only apply to plain coffee. Despite Corporate’s edict, we let our regulars come and go all day long and still qualify for refills.That’s just the kind of folks we are. But as the saying goes, no bending of the rules goes unpunished, and some people feel it is their purpose on this earth to abuse any privilege extended them.

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Posted on December 11, 2006