There were many “characters” in Starbucks the past few days. At one point, it got so strange in “my” coffeehouse a couple of nights ago during my closing shift that a woman came up to me and, with conviction, said “There sure are a lot of strange people in here at night, aren’t there?!”
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to such a comment, so I thought about it for a few seconds and I realized she was right. The past few days, our non-regular customers have ranged from the indie punks to the full bearded/frizzy haired (giving Bob Ross quite the run for his money) to the humorlessly awkward.
I’m not complaining or saying there is anything wrong with such people…it’s just been an interesting past few days.
For example, how would you respond to someone who asks for a “Marshmallow…..uh….whatever the hell you guys call those things”?
How would you react upon receiving this answer from a finely dressed gentlemen in response to the inquiry, “What are you waiting for, sir?” :
“Steak and eggs…um…oh….I mean a grande iced coffee.” Honestly? Steak and Eggs? Not even on the menu.
I suppose it’s possible. Despite these two interactions being pretty ridiculously strange (and subsequently jocular), there is one more story I must share that almost makes them seem normal and sane.
Two fairly muscular, tattooed, gruff men approached the counter and ordered a pair of iced coffees. They each whipped out twenty dollars and each attempted to shove their bills into my hands simultaneously. I gripped one man’s payment, but as I moved to complete the transaction, the other man yelled at me to stop and to take his money. A prompt argument began between the two brawlers with each thrusting their money towards me. Usually, when this sort of thing happens, I just chuckle a little until one or the other is more insistent. However, my chuckling was quickly cut short when one of the men looked me square in the eyes and shouted, “STOP smiling…JUST TAKE MY MONEY!” Needless to say, I obliged. Then, without warning, the bellowing man’s friend broke out into a rising verse of Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York,” only he began the song with an enthusiastic, “Start singing the blues!” (For those of you who don’t know, the correct lyrics are “Start spreading the news”)
These are my stories. Thank you, DUMBO.
the many minute musings of a barista 
This post made me LOL for real.
my favourite part of your starbucks work is that i get to hear about these stories directly from you. my least favourite part about my favourite part is that i tend to respond to the stories when you tell them to me. meaning, when i read about them here, i’m not sure what to say anymore.
next time someone orders steak and eggs, make them some crazy drink. and tell them, that’s what it’s called.