Category Archives: Rants

Starbuckian: “Star-schmucks'” Lingo

One thing that really drives me up the wall is a customer who makes a big deal about the names of our cup sizes. Honestly, I don’t care what you call them. Yeah, I know our lingo is pretentious. No, you’re NOT the first person who’s informed me of this. Small, medium, and large are the same as Tall, Grande, and Venti in my book. You don’t speak Starbuckian, you say? Doesn’t matter — English is my first language.

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I came across this gem on YouTube. Enjoy:

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Today I Lost My Cool

So this morning was great up until I had to deal with one of the rudest customers I have ever dealt with. What happened still doesn’t justify what I did. I did what we all want to do on occasion, but what we should never do. I called a customer an asshole.

As some of you may already know, there is an iPhone application that allows you to load your registered Starbucks’ card information to it, so that the card can be scanned from your mobile phone. You would think that because of this new app, corporate would incorporate training to teach us how to navigate the application to make the process easier for both us, and for customers. Unfortunately this hasn’t happened, and myself and my fellow baristas were unprepared when people came in with questions about the new app. I did my best to try to help customers, I even searched through the application briefly, on a customer’s phone. Yesterday the application didn’t work when I scanned the bar-code, however I was able to enter the card’s numbers to ring customers up.

It was fairly slow when a well-dressed man in his mid-thirties entered the store. He appeared somewhat agitated already, when he approached the counter. He rapid-fired his order — two quad espressos in Grande cups. Because it was slow, my shift-supervisor, who was on bar heard the order, and I didn’t have to write on the cups. He then asked me about the app. I told him that I didn’t know how to use the app, but that if he pulled up the card info, that I could enter the card’s numbers to make the purchase. He then asked me if the manager was present, and I said he wasn’t. Before I could say anything else, he cut me off and asked for the manager’s name, and my name. At this point I felt personally attacked. I give exceptional service, and I am always polite. I bite my tongue when people are rude to me, and I try to meet their needs.

He proceeded to berate me, telling me that it was unacceptable that I didn’t know how to use the app, all while giving me his visa. I clamped my mouth shut, ran the transaction through, and he continued. He said that there should be training here at the store to teach us to use the app, and asked for our store number. When I couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer I said, “Well, you don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”

GRRR Arrg!

My blood was boiling, my face was hot, and I was close to tears. I was so upset I didn’t want to deal with him anymore, or anyone else. I couldn’t believe my word vomit. He said, “WHAT’S. THE. STORE. NUMBER.”

I asked A (my shift) to give him our store number. She was working with another customer behind Rude Guy, but gave him the store number and apologized to him before he left.

Just as he was leaving, more customers entered the store, and I had to put on a big smile and take their orders. I felt my voice shake, but I tried my best to hide it. After the rush died down I was sent on my ten minute break. I burst into tears the second I was safely in the backroom.

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Filed under One of THOSE days..., Rants, WTF

The Return

I took some time off work for school vacation, and so that I could see my family. I am now all rested up and back to daily grind. I have lots of stories to tell, starting with this one:

It’s a nice slow Sunday. I’m working bar, and my co-worker, Little K is ringing customers up. I’m able to make the drinks quickly and efficiently, while still carrying on a pleasant banter with some of my favorite visitors. Customers are generally pleasant. This woman was Sunday’s exception.

Middle-aged bitchy woman to co-worker: ” I’ll have a short chocolate milk for myself, and a tall decaf latte.”

Tiny K to me: ” So, that’s just a short hot chocolate, right?”

Me to to Little K: “Yes.” (I start to make the drink.)

Middle-aged bitchy woman: “No! It’s a short chocolate milk! I order it all the time, I don’t get what your problem is!”

Me to woman: ” I understand, what you want, she,” I motioned towards Little K, “– K was just asking me how to enter the transaction into our system. We don’t have a chocolate milk —”

Woman: (cutting me off) “You do! It’s right up there!” She points her index finger at the sign above the register.

Me: ” I was going to say that while we do have it on the menu, we don’t have a button for it in our ringing system. I can make the drink you want.” At this point my face is hot, I’m stewing, and Little K is pursing her lips — probably to prevent an onslaught of vulgarities aimed at the woman.

The woman sighs, and proceeds to pay. I hand off her ever-so-controversial iced hot chocolate/chocolate milk, and I add the just finished steamed milk to the tall cup with the decaf espresso shot. I hand that off.

Woman to me: “Now you’re SURE that it’s decaf, because if it’s not I’ll have to come back.”

Me: “Yes, it’s decaf. Have a nice day!” *forced smile*

God lady, really!? I mean really? Is it truly necessary to be THAT grouchy on a Sunday morning?

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Raggedy Ann I am

Today I was assigned to be a slider/runner/rag doll, meaning it’s my job to ‘slide’ wherever I’m needed on the floor. Basically I assist everyone else with their assigned tasks. Sounds easy, right? Guess again…

The barista on bar needs milk? Got it. Ice/syrup/mocha? Got it. She needs her pitchers cleaned? On it. The pastry case needs fixing? Done. The line needs expediting? Sure. We need a second person on register? Fine. Trashes need changing/dishes, a washing? Got it. Good. Done.

I think you get the gist. This is me:

Raggedy Ann

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Keep your grubby paws out of my tip jar!

No, you may not borrow money from the tip jar. Tip jars are for tipping. Other customers, who have decided our service was exemplary enough, left us their change, or an additional tip. We EARNED that money.When I was interviewed for my position, the tips were management’s major selling point. The extra money was a large part of why I took the job when I was called back in for a follow-up interview. It just blows my mind that people think that money is there to supplement their payment. If you didn’t have enough money to pay for your $6 quad venti, one-pump vanilla, soy/eggnog super-complicated latte – why are you here?

I don’t mind lending out tips to regulars who I’ve built a repertoire with. I know they’ll be back, and more importantly I know they’ll tip me. If you’re impatient and rude, why should I go above and beyond what my job requires of me?

Tip jars are for tipping!

 

Sometimes it’s so ridiculous, it’s funny:

I’m ringing up what seems like an endless abyss (redundant much?) of people, when I see a homeless man approach the counter from the side. Now I’m taking a couple’s order when he holds up one of our chocolate bars:

Homeless man: “How much is this?” he barks.

Me: “It’s a 1.95 before tax.”

I turn back to the couple and continue entering their order.

Homeless man:”Will this cover it?”he asks.

Now at this point he’s holding the crumpled-up money right over the tip jar.

Me: “Did you take that money from our tip jar?”

The couple nod, and the homeless man answers matter-of-factly, “Yes.”

Me: “You can’t pay with that sir, those are our tips. You need to put that back.”

Homeless man: (Pockets the money, mumbles incoherently, and walks away.)

Absolutely unfucking-believable. 😛

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