A Proud Moment in Internship History… sort of
By Chloe Bohne · May 21, 2010
Okay, so I know that lately, my blog has not been too representative of my internship woes. It’s really not my fault. I actually had like a million ideas jotted down about my duties and the absurdities attached to them, but, just like the internship, the boss flipped the script on me. So, I apologize for the rough change of gears lately; it’s really not my fault. Whatever.
Anyway, today was an interesting day in my intern adventures. One of my jobs in the middle of the afternoon is to pick up coffee for the dwellers. This always blows because I have to carry more than four coffee drinks–which means that I will have to hold one or two of those drink trays and then some–and walk like two blocks balancing this crap. And, I’m very clumsy. But, this is all beside the point.
I walk in and order one tall mocha, one short, “pure” mocha, two soy lattes, and an iced green tea, I see someone I recognize, but I can’t remember where from. As I picked up my drink order, I realized who it was…
About a year ago, I had worked at a coffee shop. This place was in West LA and I got a lot of snobby customers, as I am sure you could imagine. This guy and his snooty little daughter were a couple of them. Allow me to explain.
One morning, and when I say morning, I mean some ungodly hour like 7:30am, this man and his daughter had sat down at the counter. I knew it was his daughter because she kept referring to him as “Dad” and because they were talking as if she had been off to school for a while. Judging by his beret and her pretentiousness, I was under the impression that she was well-traveled or attended school abroad.
As I take their orders, the Father is talking about how he had recently become a much more sophisticated a coffee drinker. Yes, another West Los Angeline who thinks they know a thing or two about a thing or two, and wants the whole fuckin’ world to hear about it. I’m not impressed. So he orders a cappuccino while he is rapping about the difference between a Starbucks and an ItalianMacchiato. Whatever, I make the drink.
Since there are not other customers sitting at the counter, and because he is announcing this to the whole counter, I can easily hear the two of them without any interference. They proceed to sit and talk for like fifteen minutes before this putz in the beret even attempts to taste his cappuccino.
As soon as he takes a sip, he complains about how cold it is. (Side note: Cappuccino is mostly foam, it doesn’t stay warm for very long). His daughter sees that he is unsatisfied and asks what’s wrong. He says his cappuccino is freezing.
I hear all of this, but continue to help the other customers at the register who are picking up pastries. When I clear my line and return to see if they need anything else, with a scrunched up face and a condescending tone he says ” I would like another cappuccino, but hot this time.”
I leave his cup and say that I am right on it. His daughter snickers and says, ” I don’t think she got it.”
He replies, ” She’s working at a coffee shop, dear. We can’t expect too much from her.”
Again, I hear all this, but I pretend not to. So I fumble around looking for a clean cup even though there are several in front of me. I walk back to him and tell him that all the mugs are chipped and that I will grab one from the back.
As I go back there, I find the one washed cup and hock the fattest luggy I can muster up. I walk out to the espresso machine and proceed to make a hot cappuccino.
As I set it in front of him, his daughter giggles and asks, “Is it hot this time?”
I look at her with a smile and reply, “yes,” as I walk away to help out the line that has grown substantially in my absence. When the line finally lightens up, I look over and see that beret’d bastard tipping his cup to drink in the last of my luggy.
…he was still wearing the beret.
So, sorry if this is a little off-topic, but I couldn’t resist. And, I’ll have you know, that I have never before or since participated in such an act. But, that asshole deserved it. I would’ve stuck it to his snotty litte daughter too if I could have.
But, today, was a good day to be an intern. I was no longer working at a coffee shop. No, no, I had been promoted to coffee gopher!
As I walked passed him, I turned my head to give him a smug little smirk. When I turned back around, I bumped into some lady and spilled the tray of drinks.
Karma’s a bitch.
