Afternoon libations are getting simple for me: it’s warm outside. After walking to the post office, all I’ll really want is something cold, maybe an iced espresso, and while Starbucks isn’t always the best, it is closest, now, and just an obvious choice.
When I walked one way, there was no crowd at the store. When I walked back, headed home, and paused long enough to consider then order a cheap afternoon libation, the place was busy.
Crowd inside and out.
A tall, made much taller with her “stripper heels,” woman was impatiently standing at one end, obviously waiting on a drink order. A hurried and slightly harried counter person was busy mixing up super-double upside-down mocha-blueberry whatever drinks. There were already three extra-large drinks in a tray.
Best guess, those drinks cost more than the hourly wage.
The stately (and elegant in better light), now much put-upon blonde was getting visibly agitated. Seriously agitated. Disgust roiled off her in waves, with the storm gathering moment by moment. I moved to one side, thinking, “Look out, she’s going to blow!”
Seismic, volcanic activity? On its way.
The person operating the machine to spew the coffee drinks was also the manager on duty, so it became apparent. She tried to deftly move the conversation out of the way, and she tried, deftly but looked ham-fisted, to expedite the process.
The woman complaining was making a point that the drinks weren’t written down and that’s how they missed her one, giant mocha-frappe-vanilla-straswberry-upside-down-creme-de-menthe drink.
I know precious little about how the Starbuck’s process works, but from observation, no drinks are ever written down. Drinks are either written on a cup, along with a name — tragically-comically-frequently misspelled but getting better — or drinks are printed on a label, at the moment of the order.
If it were me, I would’ve pulled the lady aside, looked up into her eyes, those were some impressive stripper heels, and asked, point-blank, “What can I do to make this right?”
I’ll assume the manager, this, she was new there, had some conflict resolution training. However, the customer not always right.
One mile away, there’s a place called Local Coffee. Pour-over, hipster-compliant, new-age, free-range, etc., etc. For your snooty coffee needs? Go there. There will be a wait, as each drink is lovingly hand-crafted. My iced espresso would be frowned upon as that’s no way to treat good, long-pull coffee.
For the fruity drinks, the summer concoctions like that tray held, in the Starbucks? Each one of those was mixed, like a cocktail, by hand. Shaken, not stirred.
The manager was probably tired and just as irritated as the customer, and my drink came out, so I bolted.
There are no “right” answers with this heinous Mercury Retrograde pattern, exacerbated, at that time, with Venus in Retrograde.
What there are? Pathways to negotiate or REnegotiate a desired outcome.
Or, there are some days, customer service? Sucks on both sides. There are no winners.
Careful, never know when the ass you’re chewing might need kissing the next time around.
In my book?
The customer is not always right.
And I’ve been on both sides.
Mercury in Retrograde?