“Ma’am? Miss? Excuse me?”
The barista is hanging over the counter trying to get the attention of the woman at the creamer counter. Someone in the fairly longish line steps out and taps her on the shoulder.
“What?” she snaps.
“Your card is short by $2,” the barista says somewhat quietly over the crowd.
“You rang it through twice. I know there’s at least $5 on it left.”
“I can give you a print out of your purchase…”
With a huff she turns back to the front of the line and with weighted flourish, dumps her purse on the counter. She gets the bill and in hushed tones, tries to reason with the barista why she thought there was more money on the card. Finally, angrily, she hands over the remaining cash.
“This is the longest I have ever had to wait for service,” she offers as punctuation to her $4 coffee purchase, and storms off.
I’ve known the barista for some time. Not much fazes her, but you can tell that cow got to her somehow. At my turn at the counter, she takes my order and I stand slightly to the left to wait for my tea. I’m going to tell her that she’s doing a great job… that it’s a great day… something positive. Suddenly a soccer mom with daughter in tow stands directly in front of me and orders. And orders something else. And complicates something (I wasn’t paying that much attention). The barista places my tea on the counter and while I wait for her to take my money, tries to smooth out the soccer mom’s order, which she does, except for…
“Can you give me my coffee now?” the snotty soccer mom asks.
I make eye contact with the barista. I roll my eyes and make a “mah moo mive me my moffee mow?” face behind the soccer mom’s back.
Both of us laugh. Try not to. Then snort hard. Try not to. I give up and laugh and look at the stunned soccer mom. I drop a $1 tip into the box.
It’s just coffee, people!