HI! HOW ARE YOU!
Uhhh... not too bad.
COOL! THAT'S GREAT!
Err, yeah. Could I grab a large skinny cap?
YEAH! SURE! SO YOU LIKE YOUR COFFEE THEN, HUH?
heh... yeah, I guess... (You stupid fuck. Of course I like my fucking coffee, or I wouldn't be handing over close on five bucks every morning for a cup of something decent. Or putting up with stupid fucking conversation like this, for that matter.)
COOL! SO! WHAT ARE YOU UP TO TODAY?
Just on my way to work. (Why the fuck else would I be awake right now?!)
COOL! WHERE DO YOU WORK AT?
Rantolotl Uni.
COOL! SO WHAT DO YOU DO?
I... look, I, uh, christ. Look, I just herd students, okay.
SO DO YOU HAVE TO WORK OVER THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS?
Well, sortof. Not really. Err...
WHEN THE STUDENTS END STUDY, DO YOU JUST GET TO CHILL OVER SUMMER?
What?! No! Look, I just want...
SO YOU HAVE TO WORK? WHAT DO YOU DO?
Ugh... it's a large organisation. We do stuff. Deploy new systems, fix old ones. All that sort of shit.
DO YOU HAVE TO WORK CHRISTMAS DAY?
I don't know.
DID YOU ASK FOR A LATTE OR A CAPPUCINO?
*audible sigh* a cap.
YOU WANTED SUGAR, RIGHT?
No.
COOL!
...what kindof dickhead has sugar in coffee anyway?
YEAH! I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN!
Another customer: Hi, I'd like a latte, 2 sugars, thanks.
Uh, sorry.
HERE'S YOUR CAP! HAVE A FANTASTIC DAY!
Yeah, sure, whatever. You too.
Man. I should not have to go through this sort of bullshit just to get a cup of fucking coffee. I bit the bullet last week and decided to take some action against my coffee woes, attempting to find somewhere that does good coffee nearby... while this isn't difficult in itself, any place that has a huge queue, people wearing hats dancing about to shockingly bad commercial radio, or thirty separate 'promotions' before you can even see the register are automatically out. Given I work at a university, this pretty much removes about 90% of my options.
I finally made the move after agonising for about a week of my then current coffee choices. My laziness had reached an all-time high, and I was purchasing my daily dose of caffiene from the shitty cafe in our building's foyer. The coffee at this joint is shithouse, but to be fair, it's not as bad as their food. The other thing about it is that it's fucking cheap. But after going there for about a week, the staff had managed to not only work out my name, but remember my particular styling of coffee and time I would arrive. Every day, I'd show up, and they'd shout my order across the room as I walked through the door. I'd say 'yes, thanks.' and walk up to the register to pay. Then - then - they'd try and engage me in some bullshit small-talk banter, addressing me by my name. I don't like my name. I only give it to people when I absolutely have to, and I distinctly loathe it when what amounts to a stranger addresses me by it because they think it's some sort of fucking magic trick or something. I mean what the fuck's with that?! You know, you're at a shop, and you pay for something with your bankcard or something, and this dick behind the counter thinks he's being real fucking clever, and says "Thanks rantolotl! How's your day been, anyway?". Fuck off, that's how it's been. Congratulations - you've proved to me that you can read a name on a piece of plastic. +1 charisma? Denied, fuckwit.
Anyway. Back to the coffee. I was going to this shop, they were serving me shithouse coffee, and felt like they could engage me in banter. I will only accept this if a) the coffee is good, b) the server knows their banter-limits, and c) the server is cute. The 50+ year old woman behind the counter at said cafe does not meet any of these requirements. Additionally, I feel that by them remembering my order, they've made some sort of assumption that their coffee is worth coming back for. This is not a thought I want to encourage, because it really is very bad coffee, and they'll never learn if they keep patting themselves on the back like this. Their coffee cups are crap, too. They're that kind where the lid is never really trustworthy... so you'll be sipping away at it for 5 minutes or so, and then bam! You find it's fucking dripping through the base of the lid, and now your shirt is all coffee stained. Fucking great.
So, in what seemed like an ambitious move, my first port of call was a little coffee cart outside of the train station. I figured that it's designed to be quick, easy, and equipped with cups designed to not be fucking crap. I was almost right. The coffee was good... excellent, in fact! It was relatively quick, and the cups were good. They didn't burn your hand, and the coffee didn't sneakily leak out. It really was a shame about this whole new world of bad conversation I'd subjected myself to, though. The above conversation took place at the whim of Mr-I'm-30 -and-I-have-a-goatee-and-an-old-man-driving-cap-on coffee dude, and I ended up spending the rest of the day feeling a bit confused.
The next day as I got off my train, I figured I would risk going past and see if the same guy was there, or if he looked a little less bored or something. Because really, the coffee was pretty good. Much to my pleasure, a completely different person was serving and what's more, she barely said a word to me and the coffee was still good. I was truly happy. Good coffee with a minimum of fuss - everything one could possibly expect of mornings!
And so this continued for a small while... that is, until this morning. Mr Loud - as I shall now call him - was back, cap and all. I decided to divert course and sneak past unnoticed, and put off my coffee purchase for an hour or so... this did not work. HI! I heard, as I strolled past nonchalant-like. I froze like a deer caught in the headlights. Argh! Now what do I do? I thought to myself as I stood there, sholders hunched, head ducked, and limbs completely frozen. HOW ARE YOU? Oh crap! He's still going! Gah! It was then that my legs solved the problem, casually wheeling about back to the coffee cart where I ordered a coffee. As he turned around to start making it, I considered running away. But against my better judgement, I stayed. SO, HOW IS THE UNI? He spouted, as he turned back to chat. But I pre-empted this move, and countered it with the mysterious mobile phonecall from nowhere. Speaking nonsense into my phone, I held up my finger in that ever arrogant 'Excuse me, but I'm terribly busy here. Just get with the coffee making' pose. Rantolotl 1, Mr Loud 0. Game, set and fucking match.
I wouldn't usually resort to such an areshole move, but really, it was necessary and probably in everyones best interests. I mean, sooner or later Mr Loud would've wound up wearing his hat up his arse whilst being beaten with his own cashbox.
Who do they think they are trying to withhold their good coffee from me? Is this some sort of elite club where you have to tolerate months of pointless time wasters and torture before being admitted to the magical 'here's your coffee, it's good, and it's hassle free' queue? For fucks sake. Beverages should not be this difficult.
Rantolotl FTW. That is all.
Uhhh... not too bad.
COOL! THAT'S GREAT!
Err, yeah. Could I grab a large skinny cap?
YEAH! SURE! SO YOU LIKE YOUR COFFEE THEN, HUH?
heh... yeah, I guess... (You stupid fuck. Of course I like my fucking coffee, or I wouldn't be handing over close on five bucks every morning for a cup of something decent. Or putting up with stupid fucking conversation like this, for that matter.)
COOL! SO! WHAT ARE YOU UP TO TODAY?
Just on my way to work. (Why the fuck else would I be awake right now?!)
COOL! WHERE DO YOU WORK AT?
Rantolotl Uni.
COOL! SO WHAT DO YOU DO?
I... look, I, uh, christ. Look, I just herd students, okay.
SO DO YOU HAVE TO WORK OVER THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS?
Well, sortof. Not really. Err...
WHEN THE STUDENTS END STUDY, DO YOU JUST GET TO CHILL OVER SUMMER?
What?! No! Look, I just want...
SO YOU HAVE TO WORK? WHAT DO YOU DO?
Ugh... it's a large organisation. We do stuff. Deploy new systems, fix old ones. All that sort of shit.
DO YOU HAVE TO WORK CHRISTMAS DAY?
I don't know.
DID YOU ASK FOR A LATTE OR A CAPPUCINO?
*audible sigh* a cap.
YOU WANTED SUGAR, RIGHT?
No.
COOL!
...what kindof dickhead has sugar in coffee anyway?
YEAH! I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN!
Another customer: Hi, I'd like a latte, 2 sugars, thanks.
Uh, sorry.
HERE'S YOUR CAP! HAVE A FANTASTIC DAY!
Yeah, sure, whatever. You too.
Man. I should not have to go through this sort of bullshit just to get a cup of fucking coffee. I bit the bullet last week and decided to take some action against my coffee woes, attempting to find somewhere that does good coffee nearby... while this isn't difficult in itself, any place that has a huge queue, people wearing hats dancing about to shockingly bad commercial radio, or thirty separate 'promotions' before you can even see the register are automatically out. Given I work at a university, this pretty much removes about 90% of my options.
I finally made the move after agonising for about a week of my then current coffee choices. My laziness had reached an all-time high, and I was purchasing my daily dose of caffiene from the shitty cafe in our building's foyer. The coffee at this joint is shithouse, but to be fair, it's not as bad as their food. The other thing about it is that it's fucking cheap. But after going there for about a week, the staff had managed to not only work out my name, but remember my particular styling of coffee and time I would arrive. Every day, I'd show up, and they'd shout my order across the room as I walked through the door. I'd say 'yes, thanks.' and walk up to the register to pay. Then - then - they'd try and engage me in some bullshit small-talk banter, addressing me by my name. I don't like my name. I only give it to people when I absolutely have to, and I distinctly loathe it when what amounts to a stranger addresses me by it because they think it's some sort of fucking magic trick or something. I mean what the fuck's with that?! You know, you're at a shop, and you pay for something with your bankcard or something, and this dick behind the counter thinks he's being real fucking clever, and says "Thanks rantolotl! How's your day been, anyway?". Fuck off, that's how it's been. Congratulations - you've proved to me that you can read a name on a piece of plastic. +1 charisma? Denied, fuckwit.
Anyway. Back to the coffee. I was going to this shop, they were serving me shithouse coffee, and felt like they could engage me in banter. I will only accept this if a) the coffee is good, b) the server knows their banter-limits, and c) the server is cute. The 50+ year old woman behind the counter at said cafe does not meet any of these requirements. Additionally, I feel that by them remembering my order, they've made some sort of assumption that their coffee is worth coming back for. This is not a thought I want to encourage, because it really is very bad coffee, and they'll never learn if they keep patting themselves on the back like this. Their coffee cups are crap, too. They're that kind where the lid is never really trustworthy... so you'll be sipping away at it for 5 minutes or so, and then bam! You find it's fucking dripping through the base of the lid, and now your shirt is all coffee stained. Fucking great.
So, in what seemed like an ambitious move, my first port of call was a little coffee cart outside of the train station. I figured that it's designed to be quick, easy, and equipped with cups designed to not be fucking crap. I was almost right. The coffee was good... excellent, in fact! It was relatively quick, and the cups were good. They didn't burn your hand, and the coffee didn't sneakily leak out. It really was a shame about this whole new world of bad conversation I'd subjected myself to, though. The above conversation took place at the whim of Mr-I'm-30 -and-I-have-a-goatee-and-an-old-man-driving-cap-on coffee dude, and I ended up spending the rest of the day feeling a bit confused.
The next day as I got off my train, I figured I would risk going past and see if the same guy was there, or if he looked a little less bored or something. Because really, the coffee was pretty good. Much to my pleasure, a completely different person was serving and what's more, she barely said a word to me and the coffee was still good. I was truly happy. Good coffee with a minimum of fuss - everything one could possibly expect of mornings!
And so this continued for a small while... that is, until this morning. Mr Loud - as I shall now call him - was back, cap and all. I decided to divert course and sneak past unnoticed, and put off my coffee purchase for an hour or so... this did not work. HI! I heard, as I strolled past nonchalant-like. I froze like a deer caught in the headlights. Argh! Now what do I do? I thought to myself as I stood there, sholders hunched, head ducked, and limbs completely frozen. HOW ARE YOU? Oh crap! He's still going! Gah! It was then that my legs solved the problem, casually wheeling about back to the coffee cart where I ordered a coffee. As he turned around to start making it, I considered running away. But against my better judgement, I stayed. SO, HOW IS THE UNI? He spouted, as he turned back to chat. But I pre-empted this move, and countered it with the mysterious mobile phonecall from nowhere. Speaking nonsense into my phone, I held up my finger in that ever arrogant 'Excuse me, but I'm terribly busy here. Just get with the coffee making' pose. Rantolotl 1, Mr Loud 0. Game, set and fucking match.
I wouldn't usually resort to such an areshole move, but really, it was necessary and probably in everyones best interests. I mean, sooner or later Mr Loud would've wound up wearing his hat up his arse whilst being beaten with his own cashbox.
Who do they think they are trying to withhold their good coffee from me? Is this some sort of elite club where you have to tolerate months of pointless time wasters and torture before being admitted to the magical 'here's your coffee, it's good, and it's hassle free' queue? For fucks sake. Beverages should not be this difficult.
Rantolotl FTW. That is all.
14 comments:
You like to play it all 'Oh, I hate talking to barristas, waahhhh!' but I know the real score here. If you didn't harbor some kind of deep-seated fetish for mind-numbing bullshit banter all for the sake of coffee, you'd have done what every other sane person has done and got yourself a cheap percolator and some fucking grounds.
Just call me Fandango Jones, brain spelunker! =P
Anyway, what coffee-cart is this? The only thing close to a cart that I've seen are those little CHQ setups - and CHQ coffee is like lukewarm mud in a paper-cup.
I'm just too damned lazy to make my own coffee in the morning. When I do, it ends badly for all involved.
It's not a CHQ cart, btw, it's just some cart run by a nearby cafe. Good coffee. Although, I don't think the CHQ @ Flinders is too bad at all. The one at Spencer is fucking nasty.
No, I can confirm that the Flinders one is trash - at best. Grabbed one there while waiting for people last week, and christ was it foul.
Not only that, but the guy taking the order managed to mistake '...with four extra shots, please.' for 'Fill my cup to the fucking brim with sugar!'. After the third giant scoop of sugar was deposited into my cup I caught on and corrected him with a 'No, no... shots of Coffee, not ... sugar...'.
Knobs.
I really do think sugar in coffee should be banned. It's a terrible thing to do to said beverage. Flavour shots aren't much better.
But back to CHQ. I also use the one in Melb Cent every now and then, too. They really aren't great, but they're not that bad, either. But I only bother to use them when it's fucking quiet.
I have a confession to make, you see, I am a fan of that white substance they call sugar and yes I do have sugar in coffee and tea on and off.
I only got half way through that before my eyes glazed over; too much rant once it got past the convo
I reckon he was trying to hit on you... meh
See, now when I hit on people, I don't do it by yelling at the top of my lungs at them. Well, unless they're about to be hit by a bus or something. But that's probably a bad time to be flirting...
... especially if you are the one DRIVING the bus and about to literally 'hit' on them ;)
P.S. I still maintain that the transcript reads as a desperate attempts to maintain conversation beyond just trying to make a customer feel welcome, its some guy wanting to know you better. Too bad you like girls :p
Well, on the whole I prefer guys. But not ones that are yelling at me and wearing fucking ridiculous hats.
He did make a good cup of coffee though. I guess he does have his benefits.
nah, I just don't like the taste of milk, but like to have my coffee at a drinkable temperature. I find that skinny milk manages to achieve that fairly well =)
@ 'Sperm'
Too much Rant?! You're at RANTOLOTL for Christ's sake! If the name isn't enough warning that you're diving face-first into murky and bitter pool of rants then I don't know what is.
That's why I prefer energy drinks over coffee. Saves a lot of time.
...and I was actually disappointed this morning when the usual cheery, middle-aged woman at the lolly shop I get my caffeine hit from on the way to work (despite the string of newsagents between Central station and the bus stop* the lolly shop is the only place that has V Black) wasn't there to start up a half-conversation (must be a sugar high).
* Lacking in trams or even a city-circle train line, Brisbane has the "free loop" bus service, with 2 buses circling the CBD in each direction. However it's not properly timetabled and the 2 buses tend to bunch together and usually it's quicker just to walk, but then that takes actual effort...
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