Customer Service
10/27/2022
There is something amazing about Peet’s Coffee, something to do with the customers. I have been working there since June 2022. Many of my coworkers are refugees from Starbucks, and when they arrive at Peet’s, they are immediately taken aback by the relative civility of our customers. There are no groups of giggling teenage girls ordering 6 frappuccinos, no 60-year-old Pumpkin Spice Christians, and no need to wince as you say “grande” to a Spanish speaking customer, assuming they forgive you for butchering their language by implying that “grande” means “medium”.
However, there is one particular benefit to having Karen customers, they don’t talk to you. There is little I hate more than customers trying to make small talk with me while I’m just trying to make their damn latte. In October, a particular middle aged woman made an attempt. I helped her redeem an online rewards credit in store.
“Oh, sorry, I don’t have my glasses,” she kept saying, every time I gave an instruction.
“Alright, now press the button labeled ‘120’.”
“Oh, sorry, I don’t have my glasses.”
“Now hit the ‘redeem’ button.”
“Oh, sorry, I don’t have my glasses.”
“Now please step to the side to allow the man bursting for a pee behind you to get to the bathroom.”
“Oh, sorry, I don’t have my glasses.”
Eventually I got her ringed up, and she followed me over to the espresso bar, where she proceeded to talk my ear off. “You young people are so good at technology. My daughter, she knows everything. She teaches me these things, I said I teach you when you were here!” She motioned with her hand a few feet off the ground.
“Ah but you don’t know,” she continued, “you are so young! Are you in high school?”
“Yep,” I said looking down at the machine trying to conceal my annoyance. I flashed her a facial expression I intended to mean “Please go away, I’m trying to do what you didn’t tip me for.” Alas.
“Oh so young!” she said, more joyful than any person should be while waiting for coffee. “What are you, a freshman?”
It took every last ounce of patience I had to not turn around, stare her right in the eyes, and explain to her every single way that a reasonable person would be able to tell that I am not a freshman in high school. For starters, I am six feet tall and broad, both characteristics 14-year-olds are not known for; I hadn’t shaved in two days, and my five o’clock shadow was starting to look like a shadow that might be cast at the bottom of a lake; I had spoken in a deep, professional tone, very much unlike the screech of a freshman running down a crowded hallway; and, most importantly, the eyes of a 14-year-old high school freshman tend to have light behind them, unlike mine, which contained the horrific blackness of the lake-bottom my five o’clock shadow was being cast in.
After a breath and a reexamination of my life choices, I informed her that I am, in fact, a senior in high school, and that freshmen are not normally allowed in the state of California to work in food service. Then I handed over her drink and, before she could say anything else, I walked away and pretended to do work.
Of course, that isn’t the only type of weird I’ve encountered in almost 6 months closing a coffee shop. Only a week after the age-blind woman came an incredibly peculiar old man. I’d seen him once or twice before, and every single time his existence baffles me. He has the scruffy facial hair, gray herringbone cap, and slightly sour smell of a 1920’s London peasant, yet on this day by his side stood a tall, classically beautiful African-American woman, with hair in long, elegant braids and an excessively studded designer handbag. He himself has what looked to be a designer fanny pack, what I’m sure the manufacturer would’ve rather I call a “chest satchel” or something similarly silly, slung lazily over his shoulder and around his waist.
They both got medium roast refills, a total cost being around $3.30, and to my immense surprise out of the fanny pack the man pulled what looked to be several hundred dollars in cash. 1’s, 5’s, 10’s, 20’s, 50’s, even a 100!
He spent what felt like multiple minutes flipping through the wad, enough time for me to get over my surprise and feel great disappointment when he handed me a twenty.
You have plenty of ones and fives, why are you making me give you change?