Columnists / Secret Barista
The Secret Barista: ‘I’m used to poor customer behaviour, but at this I am aghast’
Rush hour trade fills the cafe. Bristol regulars with cheeky wit and pre-coffee eyes. Behind the bar we enjoy the normal morning banter whilst making a good mixture of speciality brew and your regular no nonsense lattes.
I see her coming across the street. The shark dead eyes dully gleam 40 paces away. Important big deal Londoner type. It’s written over her top to bottom, from Anna Wintour bob to menacingly sharp stilettoed shoe.
She barges her way through the door, left wide open, icy winter blast streaming in behind her. She pulls up sharp directly at the counter, giant leather tote bag thrown unceremoniously on top of the pastries. Icing sugar cascades over the sides of the polished hide.
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My colleague and I glance at each other. Several of the regulars glance just as uneasily at her.
“Cappuccino.” It’s a drawled, bored order. I raise an eyebrow. Obviously this woman does not deign to look at us, the lowly serving staff we are. Lovely.
“That’s to take away I assume?” I reply. She does not reply.
Her phone is produced from a pocket somewhere. She idly begins dealing with an email at the counter. Customers begin to pile up behind her.
“Can I get you anything else?” Still not looking up she drawls. “Skinny. Extra hot. No chocolate.”
Wonderful. I do not attempt any further interaction, simply let her know the card machine is ready for payment.
Nothing. I repeat it louder. She moves her phone to the right and pays, them seamlessly returns to her email.
As I’m about to place the lid on her coffee, I glance up to find a paper sachet of sweeteners being dangled in my eye line.
Now, I am used to poor customer behaviour, but at this I am aghast. The seven-deep line of regulars behind her stare boggle-eyed.
With ill-concealed rage, I ask if she wants the sweeteners in her coffee.
Now she looks at me as if I am a complete moron. I take the sachet and drop it in the coffee, paper and all, and give the beverage a good stir. I add a dash of chocolate for good measure and put the lid on, smiling sweetly as I pass it over.
Unfortunately, she returns the next morning and we repeat the interaction all over again. Only this time, she doesn’t offer forward any sweeteners.
The Secret Barista works in a Bristol city centre cafe
Main photo: Martin Booth
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