"You don't have goat's milk?! Who doesn't have goat's milk?!" -- Umm, pretty much everyone... Except goats, i guess?
Spilled her entire drink and then just disappeared! She's like a ninja. A terrible, terrible ninja.
Anyone that can't put sugar in their own coffee should be publicly euthanized.
If your tip makes a sound when it hits the bottom of the jar, you're doing it wrong.
If you rearrange the furniture, just put it back when you leave so I don't have to spend the rest of my shift putting a curse on your family
My boss bought a case of coffee filters that are a little too big, so the next few months of my life are pretty much ruined.
If only there was some kind of sign I could hang in the window to tell you that we're closed...
I called my boss, "Mr. Manager", but he didn't get it and that's when I knew this was never gonna work.
Remember that one time you went through my tip jar to find change to pay for your latte? That was awkward. Sorry about your face.
Macchiatto and Cypress Hill. Because I'm a f*cking gangster and stuff.
This guy just got mad because we don't have a yellow-pages. We also don't have an abacus or a sun-dial.
Someone just asked if we offer a "nice guy" discount. I told him that we do offer a "nice guy" discount and then I charged him full price.
I like to use a lot of big words when I tweet, that way if my boss ever finds my twitter account, he won't understand any of it.
The third time she tried to correct my coffee-making technique, I poured out her latte and handed her a job application.
Yeah we're open. Feel free to push open the sliding doors and take a seat on one of the upturned chairs.
We have a guitar in the cafe. It helps us determine who is a sociopath and who isn't.
Yes, it is Monday. Yes, it is difficult to wake up some times. Holy sh*t, we're actually having this conversation.
My boss watches the cameras at the cafe. But he'd save time if he just followed my twitter to see that I'm not working.
"oh my god, I don't care" - me, during every conversation with every customer ever.
"are you sure this is 1%? It tastes like 2%" was the last thing she said before I started throwing stuff at her face.