holidays in hell

Tis the season. Ho ho ho... puke. The approaching birthday of little baby Jesus does get me excited in some respects. Mostly because I always go with my mom, dad and brother to my granny's house up north. Uncles and aunts are there. There's a lot of board game playing and TV watching and eating crap. I love the traditional Christmas cheese logs.
We don't play Christmas music at the cafe. Ever. I know just about every other place of commerce in the country puts their Christmas classics collection on repeat starting right after Thanksgiving. We, thankfully, do no such thing.
I wonder who else doesn't play Christmas music. Do you think Starbucks does? It seems one thing to have the torturous drone of "Silent Night" (the smooth jazz version) echoing through department or grocery stores; places where people mill around and generally don't spend excessive amounts of time there.
It's different if a restaurant or cafe plays those songs. Well, TGI Friday's is one thing- they could probably get away with it . A coffee shop is different though, right? You go there to relax or study or have a hushed break-up talk with your grad student boyfriend. If the airwaves were polluted by Charlotte Church warbling "Jingle Bells," people might go crazy.
The holiday season is good for work. It's crazily busy. We're located in the center of the town's shopping district, and our cafe has its own line of merchandise that people just buy up like they're so lazy that they have to get their loved ones presents from the cafe they go to every day- just to be efficient.
Well, what can I say? I do my Christmas shopping there too.
Happy Holidays!!

MTV at Cafe Nasty?

Yesterday afternoon, some producers from MTV came to the cafe to interview staff for a possible reality show. I, tragically, wasn't working at the time- all the better. I would've freaked out. I think its okay to admit a fondness of reality television. Not just any old show though. I do have standards (eg: "Trading Spouses" good; "Breaking Bonaduce" bad). The MTV cats explained to my friends that they were going for a "Laguna Beach-esque" show, meaning sort of real, sort of not.
Since I wasn't there to observe or participate in any of the pre-interviewing that took place, I can't be sure exactly how the producers imagined the show. I also can't figure out what drew them to our little town. Maybe the fact that it's a predominantly upper-class area, and the presence of a massively prestigious university in town means there are lots of rich, sexy, and smart co-eds wandering the streets. Does MTV know that only one of our 40-something employees goes to the university? The rest of us carry on a diverse array of lifestyles. Most of us are students at colleges not too far away (there is an obscene number of colleges crammed into our tiny state). Some employees are older, and married with children. There are a few newbies that I haven't gotten to know yet, but so far they don't seem like they do much besides pour cappuccinos and smoke menthols.
When I heard of this potential TV show (which will probably never materialize, judging from what I know about "the biz"), I thought, "Great! It's about time we all got credit for being such a twisted yet functional family."
The fact that we all go to different schools or are in varying stages of life makes going to work quite interesting, I think. We are not a boring or bland crowd. We don't even have more than a couple walking stereotypes among us, as far as I can recall. But this doesn't mean I'm not sitting back, wearing my signature evil grin, trying to figure out which of us would be chosen by editors to fall into certain character roles that are commonplace on these reality shows.
As depressed as it makes me to say this, I don't think I would be one of the camera's focal points. I guess, when I consider my monotonous existence, I realize how blah I'd seem to story editors, whose job it would be to scour through hundreds of hours of footage looking for cat fights, sloppy, beer-soaked hook-ups, and hysterical crying fits.
I work, I go to school, I sit at the computer, and I hang out with my boyfriend. That's all I really have time for. I don't suppose anyone wants to see that. But I can imagine my breakthrough performance on the episode where someone discovers this blog, and word gets out that I trash everyone online. I quickly become the show's sexy villain; but probably just for that one episode.
Jane would have no choice but to be the hot chick who gets around.
Tim would be the sensitive, alterna-hipster ladies' man.
We've got two lesbians and a gay guy, so we're well stocked there.
We even have a crazy, daredevil, controversial dude ( a la Puck- Real World San Fran, duh).
Those producers would be fools to turn us away.

Why do I make customers so angry?

I want to know why my personality seems to bring the worst out of customers more than anyone else at the cafe. Well, let me modify that a little bit. I only make people seethe with rage during telephone conversations. In person, though my attitude when dealing with difficult folks is always the same, my pretty, smiling face usually deters them from completely losing it. I smile when I talk to customers over the phone, you better believe it. My vocal stylings definitely took some training. I can be demanding and authoritative, nearly evoking Kathleen Turner's spirit in my commands. I can also be sweet and stupid sounding. There's a great chance that when angry customers talk to me over the phone, they believe they're dealing with an incompetent 16, maybe 13 year old girl. I keep calm on the phone, using my sweet li'l princess voice, which, though I sound like a baby, carries some almost condescending undertones. That's it. It has to be that. What could possibly aggravate an angry customer, calling to complain about her burned latte, than a young and innocent yet belittling personality on the other end of the line, telling her that we're sorry, but we just can't offer her a year's supply of free lattes.
People call the cafe all the time, for all kinds of reasons. To complain, for directions, to order coffee, whatever. Quite often, their requests or random issues are just too ridiculous and I have to tell them no. Did I mention that my cafe is located smack in the center of the state's most wealthy area. I pour cappuccino after cappuccino for over privileged college students, bored and botoxed soccer mom's and their stuffy, new-money husbands. This is my life. So it turns out that the rich and stupid are the ones with the most to complain about. Their lives are actually more difficult than yours or mine. Who would have guessed?
Well, try saying no to one of these, umm, assholes. They don't appreciate it.
Yesterday, a man phoned to request that we ship some gift certificates to him in Florida by Christmas. Shipping gift certificates is not something we do, but I was kind enough to suggest that he leave a message in my boss's voice mail, and maybe when she was back at work in two days, she could consider bending the rules. I gave him no false hope though. I let him know that chances were slim, but he could wait and see.
"That's not okay with me, and I don't appreciate the way this matter is being handled," he growled at me, "I want to you take my order now because I hate waiting!"
"I hate assholes like you," I hissed back. I'm kidding. I would never do that... I was frustrated by this conversation because it felt like the nicer I was, the more furious he grew. Why would a sweet young princess make this troll so unhappy?
Maybe someone out there has the answer I'm looking for.
Good Night Moon!

sex with co-workers

I found out the other day that Jane, one of my female co-workers (who I've always known to be flirty/borderline slutty), has hooked up with around eight of the guys we work or have worked with. She's only worked at the cafe for about a year! My boyfriend informed me of this, having just been told by a mutual friend, Tim, who works at the cafe, and who happens to be one of Jane's conquests. I was first surprised that Tim hadn't told me this himself. I mean, we're friends, we talk about all kinds of personal, embarrassing stuff. Tim likes to talk shit about Jane too. In our conversations, he mostly refers to her as "gross." This is all in the past though. This is all before last night, when I found out that he has been all over Jane and her gross bits. Why hadn't he told me? Why did he badmouth her and gossip to me about some of the other guys she's been with? I can only assume that he felt a deep sort of shame about going where so many men have gone before. He might even have been in denial, convincing himself that it had never happened. I really don't know. But now, today, with my brain a dirty sponge soaked with information I wasn't meant to have, I feel confused. I am sad for Jane, and I want to understand her reasons for being so....free. I am sad for the guys at work like Tim who laugh about Jane behind her back, as if the fact that they've hooked up with her says nothing about them.
Before I get too into chastising my colleagues, I have to admit my own wrongdoings. But there are so many! No I am not perfect. I've thrown in a couple "Jane's a slut" jokes during some of the locker room chats at work. Not so much because I enjoy participating in those kinds of vulgar slam sessions, but because my mind sometimes will uncontrollably assemble the most witty (I think) one-liners that I am simply forced to spew out due to their comic value. I can't help this condition. So there. I confess to my shit-talking ways. Now I can judge others.
My cafe, though small and quaint and artsy and liberal and staffed mostly by awesome people, still harbors those lousy double standards when it comes to men, women and sex. We proclaim ourselves to be progressive and inclusive, forward-thinker types, but clearly we're not. Seriously, Jane did not do something that lots of other guys at the cafe haven't wished they could do themselves, if only their hot female co-workers would give them the time of day. There are too many good looking people who work here for hook-ups to be a rarity. Doing it with eight guys during your first year of employment, yeah that may be excessive, but then again, maybe not.
In Jane's case, applying what little knowledge I have of her life, I believe her sexuality is a tool she uses for attention and the temporary confidence boost provided by a night of getting boned. I'm just inferring here, but the other theory would be that she's just a free spirited sex maniac who gives her goods out just because she loves to do it- and this theory doesn't cut it. So I feel bad, and I also feel like her actions are little cries for help. She knows that we're a small, tight-knit group at the cafe, and that we talk all the time about everything. This means that she has gone ahead and pursued these guys one by one, knowing that everyone else would find out about it. Doesn't that seem like a sort of desperate cry for an intervention?
All the guys at work that have hooked up with and then verbally crapped on Jane don't deserve a lot of thought or concern. If I hear stupid boy talk, I'll ignore it or tell them to fuck off, hoping that their banter doesn't activate my obscene joke-firing neurons.
I believe that each of Jane's "lovers" now feels his own private shame and can deal with it himself. It's Jane that really worries me. I've been at this cafe for four years, you know? Never have I heard of anyone gettin around on such a massive scale like this. In a way, I'm impressed by Jane. I'll give her credit for being so "nice" especially to the guys she made out with that aren't so attractive (and believe me, there are a few).
But more than anything, I'm confused. I worry for her and her reputation in this tiny little community we have. She is a gorgeous girl, and smart and funny too. There's no reason she should be sabotaging herself like this. No reason I can think of.

Why should I give your mom a discount?

Ever since I started this job I've been plagued by a rampant hatred for our friends and family discount policy. If you work at the cafe, you get 40% off all your purchases. Well, that makes sense. I, for one, work hard for every dollar I earn at that joint, so hell yeah I deserve a discount on my day-off cheese cake and latte indulgences. Not that I hang out where I work on my days off...
The immediate family and closest friends of an employee also receive a 40% discount on everything. It's not uncommon for a business to be generous with its discounts in this way, and I actually think it quite nice and quite fair. After all, shouldn't the woman whose womb I infested for nine months be honored with slightly cheaper espresso? And my boyfriend, who I live with and who keeps me sane and satisfied; he obviously deserves the discount. So my issue is not with who the discount applies to, it's with the outrageous sense of entitlement some friends and family of my co-workers possess.
I shudder when a customer loudly asserts that she is the mother of whoever after she places her order. No matter that her son or daughter isn't even working at the moment to confirm or deny this woman's claim. She speaks it, therefore it is the truth. I think it's entirely unclassy to proclaim your familial status in order to knock a dollar off the cost of your soy cap. It's rude and inappropriate.
My stance is that it's only okay to ask for the discount if the employee you're related to or screwing is present. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut.
If your friend or family member isn't behind the counter, do not assume a "don't you know who I am?" attitude. Just pay full price, and appreciate this peaceful moment of anonymity.
Where I work, there are some parents of employees who come in every day and order really extravagant beverages simply because of the discount they expect. Considering that some of their sons or daughters only work part-time, and don't really work that hard, I feel taken advantage of.
My mother, bless her little heart, always finds out when I'm working and only comes in to the cafe on my shifts. The rare occasions where she comes in and I'm not there, she keeps her identity quiet, though most of my co-workers know who she is and automatically discount her purchases. She realizes that the family discount is a special privilege, not to be abused at the expense of cafe profits.
The bottom line is this- employees work for their discount. Family members and friends don't. Family and friends don't deserve a discount. It is a bonus, a gift of thanks for bestowing their son, boyfriend or cousin upon our cafe and helping make it a better place. That's all.

Cafe Nasty

Hello and welcome to Cafe Nasty, where I, Emy, will be your hostess. This blog will serve several functions. I work at a high-end coffee shop. Super espresso, richy rich clientele, and severely disturbed co-workers. It's sort of summer camp meets "The Office" meets you-don't-see-this-crap-at-Starbucks. Does that make sense?
Over the years, I've acquired much knowledge pertaining to customer service, and all kinds of crazy coffee knowledge. I intend to share experiences and tips on dealing with customers in all kinds of situations. I can also leak some of my insider coffee smarts if anyone out there cares.
I'm 24. I go to college also.
I don't have work today, which actually makes me sad. As friggin horrible as it can sometimes be, I often think about the future, about a time when I'll no longer be working there, and I tear up.
Obviously, I've got some conflicted emotions about the place.
Have you every been torn up inside?