As somebody, somewhere out there, maybe knows, I started out my coffee shop career (lulz) in a franchise location in a shopping mall.
I don't recommend this.
Though, I will agree, it was probably the most fun I've ever had while working (Oh, the shenanigans!) and the people I worked with were hands down the best people I've ever encountered (I miss you, Kate and Kiel), there was one, enormous, ever present problem. Namely, the clientele.
There is a reason why the best zombie movie ever made was filmed in a shopping mall. Let us just say that it took very, very little to make the shoppers in the mall into highly realistic extras. In fact, in some cases, they probably even had to cut back on the make up that the shopper was already wearing.
Saying I worked in a shopping mall doesn't quite encompass the horrors involved, though. No. This was the first of such a coffee shop within about 20 miles, in a brand new mall (seriously, I was there the first day that mall opened) very close to three high schools. The coffee shop in the mall was directly beside a HUGE and IMPRESSIVE movie theater with IMAX, at the entrance to the food court, and close to stores such as PacSun, Gamestop, Forever 21, American Eagle, and Hot Topic. No other store has ever made as many of what we called the Trifecta (Vanilla Bean, Double Chocolate Chip, and Strawberries and Cream Frappuccinos) as we must have made on Saturdays alone. Ohh the hordes of vapid, expressionless teenagers, bringing their drama and angst. I still have nightmares.
This lengthy introduction (me? Long winded? Never!) is for two reasons. One, to give you insight into why I sometimes cry for no reason, and two, to tell you the BEST THING I have EVER HEARD in my life.
It was a Saturday when a group of prostitots, as we fondly called them, wandered vaguely into our store to peruse our selection of bottled beverages.
The leader of this pack of chihuahuas, having not encountered such a difficult choice since the last time she got the bands changed on her braces (PINK or BLUE?!) lamented loudly the fact that she had NO IDEA what to buy, and began asking for advice in this life-altering matter.
To which her friend responded...
"Like, just get something that matches your outfit."
fin
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
A Public Service Announcement
There's a drink we sell that most everybody knows by name, even if they haven't actually tried it. It's one of the most popular drinks we sell, and just dropping the name hints towards the drinker's high classiness and great taste in coffee/milk beverages. Alas, however, few on the consumer's side of the bar are really aware of what it is.
I am talking, of course, about the poor, bastardized caramel macchiato.
Most people, when they see the name, picture something like this:
Since caramel is the everyday person's cocaine, the word "caramel" in the title sends up a flag that this, this here, is the drink of their dreams. The drink must be made of nothing but caramel because, look, the word "caramel" is right in the name.
What it is really is vanilla syrup (less, might I add, than would be in a regular vanilla latte), steamed milk until an inch from the top, foam (more foam, again, than would be in a normal latte; it is recipe standard for the caramel macchiato to weigh less than our lattes), the shot(s) of espresso are poured on top, and then that is topped by a cross-hatch and two circles of caramel drizzle.
Macchiato, in Italian, means marked with, and is a concept that Starbucks uses frequently, such as in their espresso macchiato, which is shot(s) of espresso marked with foamed milk, as well as several other short-lived promotional beverages (oh marble mocha macchiato, how we remember you fondly). The Caramel Macchiato, in this case, is marked with, well, caramel. The entire point is to drink the shots of espresso covered in the drizzle, as caramel is a perfect taste accompaniment to espresso.
It is at this point in the explanation that the customer's eyes have glazed over and I give in, telling them that yeah, they'll probably like it.
The odd part is that most people do, which completely throws me off guard. Of course, most people love it, no for realz it's my favorite drink, I mean it, only after giving it a hearty stir and adding 17 packets of sugar in the raw. And asking us to put in extra EXTRA OMG LOTS OF CARAMEL PLZZ, and in some cases topping it with whipped cream. Which is the most irritating way to make this drink in the history of ever. But I could (and probably will) devote an entire 19 posts about my troubles with whipped cream.
Even worse are the iced caramel macchiatos. It completely destroys the original point of the regular version, as the drink is now vanilla flavored milk until the drinker encounters the shots, when he or, mostly, she throws it away. Not only that, but now the customer can see what it looks like, and now is when the demands for us to stir it pour in. You know, because obviously we put those darn shots on top because we're so lazy! Did you see those guys?! Forgot to put my shots in! And then they just stuck em' on top! I swear, if they don't stir it...oh gawd, they didn't stir it. I'd better tell them to.
Somewhere, there is a professional barista who designed this drink to be appreciated by coffee aficionados the world over who is weeping at what his creation has turned into. He is being quickly hushed by his superiors, who don't really care about the product unless the outcome is money, and good gawd has this drink coined it. A kajillionty millionty people make a special stop to Starbucks the world over just to purchase a caramel macchiato.
The depressing part in all this is that customers would be infinitely more satisfied with their beverage if they just ordered what they wanted. I found a drinks guide online that describes the caramel macchiato as:
"Basically, a vanilla latte with a bit less vanilla and extra foam, and with gooey, yummy caramel sauce drizzled on top. If it doesn't taste sweet enough when you first try it, mix it up a bit. If it's still not sweet enough, ask for more vanilla -- caramel sauce doesn't really dissolve well, so by the time it strongly flavors the drink there's way too much. Iced caramel macchiatos, like hot ones, have the shots and caramel poured on top, so when you get it it won't look mixed at all. Just make sure you stir it before you drink. Macchiato, by the way, is pronounced "mah-kee-YAH-toe." src
If you stir it, and add extra vanilla, and, yes, extra caramel and whipped cream...then that's not what you ordered anymore, and you look like a tool who has no idea where you are or how you got there. You would be much, much happier with a...and write this down, or something...
Caramel Latte, with caramel drizzle.
There. Not so hard, was it? Now you get what you want, and I don't hate you, and, even better for you, they are almost exactly the same price. In fact, nine times out of ten, if you're nice, and you order a caramel latte, I will ask you at the bar if you want some drizzle on top. Then you don't have to pay for the drizzle, and you actually save money.
This has been my public service announcement to all of you.
The more you know.
I am talking, of course, about the poor, bastardized caramel macchiato.
Most people, when they see the name, picture something like this:
Since caramel is the everyday person's cocaine, the word "caramel" in the title sends up a flag that this, this here, is the drink of their dreams. The drink must be made of nothing but caramel because, look, the word "caramel" is right in the name.
What it is really is vanilla syrup (less, might I add, than would be in a regular vanilla latte), steamed milk until an inch from the top, foam (more foam, again, than would be in a normal latte; it is recipe standard for the caramel macchiato to weigh less than our lattes), the shot(s) of espresso are poured on top, and then that is topped by a cross-hatch and two circles of caramel drizzle.
Macchiato, in Italian, means marked with, and is a concept that Starbucks uses frequently, such as in their espresso macchiato, which is shot(s) of espresso marked with foamed milk, as well as several other short-lived promotional beverages (oh marble mocha macchiato, how we remember you fondly). The Caramel Macchiato, in this case, is marked with, well, caramel. The entire point is to drink the shots of espresso covered in the drizzle, as caramel is a perfect taste accompaniment to espresso.
It is at this point in the explanation that the customer's eyes have glazed over and I give in, telling them that yeah, they'll probably like it.
The odd part is that most people do, which completely throws me off guard. Of course, most people love it, no for realz it's my favorite drink, I mean it, only after giving it a hearty stir and adding 17 packets of sugar in the raw. And asking us to put in extra EXTRA OMG LOTS OF CARAMEL PLZZ, and in some cases topping it with whipped cream. Which is the most irritating way to make this drink in the history of ever. But I could (and probably will) devote an entire 19 posts about my troubles with whipped cream.
Even worse are the iced caramel macchiatos. It completely destroys the original point of the regular version, as the drink is now vanilla flavored milk until the drinker encounters the shots, when he or, mostly, she throws it away. Not only that, but now the customer can see what it looks like, and now is when the demands for us to stir it pour in. You know, because obviously we put those darn shots on top because we're so lazy! Did you see those guys?! Forgot to put my shots in! And then they just stuck em' on top! I swear, if they don't stir it...oh gawd, they didn't stir it. I'd better tell them to.
Somewhere, there is a professional barista who designed this drink to be appreciated by coffee aficionados the world over who is weeping at what his creation has turned into. He is being quickly hushed by his superiors, who don't really care about the product unless the outcome is money, and good gawd has this drink coined it. A kajillionty millionty people make a special stop to Starbucks the world over just to purchase a caramel macchiato.
The depressing part in all this is that customers would be infinitely more satisfied with their beverage if they just ordered what they wanted. I found a drinks guide online that describes the caramel macchiato as:
"Basically, a vanilla latte with a bit less vanilla and extra foam, and with gooey, yummy caramel sauce drizzled on top. If it doesn't taste sweet enough when you first try it, mix it up a bit. If it's still not sweet enough, ask for more vanilla -- caramel sauce doesn't really dissolve well, so by the time it strongly flavors the drink there's way too much. Iced caramel macchiatos, like hot ones, have the shots and caramel poured on top, so when you get it it won't look mixed at all. Just make sure you stir it before you drink. Macchiato, by the way, is pronounced "mah-kee-YAH-toe." src
If you stir it, and add extra vanilla, and, yes, extra caramel and whipped cream...then that's not what you ordered anymore, and you look like a tool who has no idea where you are or how you got there. You would be much, much happier with a...and write this down, or something...
Caramel Latte, with caramel drizzle.
There. Not so hard, was it? Now you get what you want, and I don't hate you, and, even better for you, they are almost exactly the same price. In fact, nine times out of ten, if you're nice, and you order a caramel latte, I will ask you at the bar if you want some drizzle on top. Then you don't have to pay for the drizzle, and you actually save money.
This has been my public service announcement to all of you.
The more you know.
Monday, January 25, 2010
I don't even like coffee.
For my first post, I wanted, oh how I wanted, to share with you the latest in coffee gossip, tell the latest on what those handsome men and beautiful women are ordering this week (answer: coffee and something with skim milk, respectively), and explode in fury about what that lady said about the beautiful cappuccino I put together for her (people, it was gorgeous.)
Unfortunately, I'm currently in a transition from a Starbucks downtown to my old store, a drive-thru store in a suburban location near a mall and a Wal-Mart, so for now, I'm so traumatized and shaken by the changes that I need at least a week before I can visit any painful past experiences. Coming back home from the store downtown I feel like a war veteran, shaken, feeling guilt for those I've left behind, experiencing flashbacks, and unable to escape the smell of battle (coffee and old milk).
Ok, so that's an exaggeration. Ok, so you knew that. But either way, for the first post, we're gonna have a list of things that people do that I really can't understand.
-Getting the largest size of anything, but getting it light, or with skim milk.
Ok, a iced/hot coffee or iced/hot tea I can understand. I can drink our iced teas by the gallon; they're light, refreshing, and do well to quench one's thirst. And without any bells or whistles, both of those are the beverages with the least caloric content of anything we sell. But getting 24 ounces of Java Chip Frappuccino made with the light base is not even trying and is the most disgustingly American thing you can do.
-Getting your drink made with soy milk, but asking me to put whipped cream on it.
I'm not a soy drinker. To me it tastes doughy and overly sweet, kind of like homemade play-dough, you know, the stuff you made with peanut butter. Or maybe you didn't eat play-Dough. Whatever, Mr. McFancyPants. Either way, I do accept that there are logical reasons for drinking it. Maybe you're lactose intolerant. Maybe you're a vegan. Perhaps you don't like the taste of milk. But mixing whipped cream, the milk content of which is, you know, very high, with soy just seems sacrilegious, like sprinkling bacon bits onto soy bacon.
-Paying for extra shots of decaf espresso.
No seriously. I'll never get it. You're a weirdo.
-Half-caf anything.
And then refusing to get your coffee if we're out of decaf. I can understand needing decaf. Perhaps you've got a cruel doctor, or are pregnant, or are allergic, or it's 9 p.m. and you are employing common sense. Half-caf, however, confuses me. I mean, I suppose somewhere along the line it makes sense, wanting to cut back. But seriously, sir, refusing to buy a coffee just because we had not the decaf necessary for your most likely 3/4 caf coffee (we're bad at estimating)...well, you should be in a nursing home.
-Buying your 6-or-less-year-old 16 ounces or more of, really, any drink.
You're a bad parent. That's awful. Maybe after force feeding your child a grande Strawberries and Cream Frappuccino once a week (because they've been 'good,' you sick, sick individual) you should force them to join some sport, call them gay when they can't run as fast as the thin kids, and then make fun of them for being fat for the rest of their lives. And then tell them they aren't pretty and never will be. Once you're done with that, call it a bad job well done, and work on popping out another one to torture, because the way this one keeps crying all the time is sooo annoying.
-Buying your 10-or-less-year-old something highly caffeinated.
Not only are you also a terrible parent, you're the one at the PTA meetings judging harshly the parents of fat kids.
-Spending upwards of $15 per day on our delicious coffee beverages.
And then asking the smokers outside if they know how much money they've wasted by smoking cigarettes. Yes, I know they're tasty. Yes, I know you're addicted. Maybe I'm just poor, but either way that seems a bit excessive and perhaps something you'd like to remedy before your husband leaves you and you lose your house. Hobo coffee may be free but it tastes terrible. Also, the second part? HAS REALLY HAPPENED. Society has reached its end days.
I know there's a lot more, but I'm starting to reach for ideas, and I know that it's going to start getting terrible. "WHAT'S UP WITH THOSE...PEOPLE WHO GET...UMM...WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH AIRLINE FOOD?" Seriously, seriously terrible.
However, if any of you have noticed silly things that people do that you don't understand (preferably in a coffee shop), please, do share.
Unfortunately, I'm currently in a transition from a Starbucks downtown to my old store, a drive-thru store in a suburban location near a mall and a Wal-Mart, so for now, I'm so traumatized and shaken by the changes that I need at least a week before I can visit any painful past experiences. Coming back home from the store downtown I feel like a war veteran, shaken, feeling guilt for those I've left behind, experiencing flashbacks, and unable to escape the smell of battle (coffee and old milk).
Ok, so that's an exaggeration. Ok, so you knew that. But either way, for the first post, we're gonna have a list of things that people do that I really can't understand.
-Getting the largest size of anything, but getting it light, or with skim milk.
Ok, a iced/hot coffee or iced/hot tea I can understand. I can drink our iced teas by the gallon; they're light, refreshing, and do well to quench one's thirst. And without any bells or whistles, both of those are the beverages with the least caloric content of anything we sell. But getting 24 ounces of Java Chip Frappuccino made with the light base is not even trying and is the most disgustingly American thing you can do.
-Getting your drink made with soy milk, but asking me to put whipped cream on it.
I'm not a soy drinker. To me it tastes doughy and overly sweet, kind of like homemade play-dough, you know, the stuff you made with peanut butter. Or maybe you didn't eat play-Dough. Whatever, Mr. McFancyPants. Either way, I do accept that there are logical reasons for drinking it. Maybe you're lactose intolerant. Maybe you're a vegan. Perhaps you don't like the taste of milk. But mixing whipped cream, the milk content of which is, you know, very high, with soy just seems sacrilegious, like sprinkling bacon bits onto soy bacon.
-Paying for extra shots of decaf espresso.
No seriously. I'll never get it. You're a weirdo.
-Half-caf anything.
And then refusing to get your coffee if we're out of decaf. I can understand needing decaf. Perhaps you've got a cruel doctor, or are pregnant, or are allergic, or it's 9 p.m. and you are employing common sense. Half-caf, however, confuses me. I mean, I suppose somewhere along the line it makes sense, wanting to cut back. But seriously, sir, refusing to buy a coffee just because we had not the decaf necessary for your most likely 3/4 caf coffee (we're bad at estimating)...well, you should be in a nursing home.
-Buying your 6-or-less-year-old 16 ounces or more of, really, any drink.
You're a bad parent. That's awful. Maybe after force feeding your child a grande Strawberries and Cream Frappuccino once a week (because they've been 'good,' you sick, sick individual) you should force them to join some sport, call them gay when they can't run as fast as the thin kids, and then make fun of them for being fat for the rest of their lives. And then tell them they aren't pretty and never will be. Once you're done with that, call it a bad job well done, and work on popping out another one to torture, because the way this one keeps crying all the time is sooo annoying.
-Buying your 10-or-less-year-old something highly caffeinated.
Not only are you also a terrible parent, you're the one at the PTA meetings judging harshly the parents of fat kids.
-Spending upwards of $15 per day on our delicious coffee beverages.
And then asking the smokers outside if they know how much money they've wasted by smoking cigarettes. Yes, I know they're tasty. Yes, I know you're addicted. Maybe I'm just poor, but either way that seems a bit excessive and perhaps something you'd like to remedy before your husband leaves you and you lose your house. Hobo coffee may be free but it tastes terrible. Also, the second part? HAS REALLY HAPPENED. Society has reached its end days.
I know there's a lot more, but I'm starting to reach for ideas, and I know that it's going to start getting terrible. "WHAT'S UP WITH THOSE...PEOPLE WHO GET...UMM...WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH AIRLINE FOOD?" Seriously, seriously terrible.
However, if any of you have noticed silly things that people do that you don't understand (preferably in a coffee shop), please, do share.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Welcome.
Good afternoon, fellow baristas/coffee complainers alike!
My name is Emily, and I have been a barista for a gigantic coffee corporation (yes, the one you're thinking of) for five years. In that time, I've collected stories, thousands of em', as well as a bitterness so deep it could make several cups of coffee jealous.
I decided recently that it was about time to share these stories and causes of my ire with you, my adoring public. All both of you. That I forced to read this. Thanks, mom and dad.
My name is Emily, and I have been a barista for a gigantic coffee corporation (yes, the one you're thinking of) for five years. In that time, I've collected stories, thousands of em', as well as a bitterness so deep it could make several cups of coffee jealous.
I decided recently that it was about time to share these stories and causes of my ire with you, my adoring public. All both of you. That I forced to read this. Thanks, mom and dad.
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