if a decade in the service industry has taught me anything, it’s that i don’t want to do this anymore.
A guy on a first date just ordered a large steamed milk and I can’t figure out a discreet way to warn her that he’s probably a serial killer.
I put that in a to-go cup because I want you to leave.
I have a strange relationship with customers. I resent them, but I appreciate that they maintain the illusion that my life has some purpose.
I just wrote the sentence, “I’ve been a barista for 10 years,” but I had to delete it because it read too much like a suicide note.
Customer: I HAVE OPINIONS TO SHARE WITH YOU
Me: *turns on coffee grinder*
I was going to enter a barista competition but there were no awards for “best fake smile” or “smallest talker”.
Say ‘ristretto’ again. I dare you. I double dare you, motherf*cker. Say ‘ristretto’ one more goddamn time.
A new girl started at work and now everything is so clean and organized. I give it two weeks til she’s just as messed up as the rest of us.
Unless you showed up to the cafe in a horse-drawn carriage or a time machine, you can’t pay for your coffee with a check.