Old people are just ... not pleasant. I love my grandparents dearly, but if they ever tried to pull the stunts that some of the cranky, entitled crones and geezers I've seen pull inside a retail establishment, I might sign them up for a Republican "death counseling" course myself.
So. I'm waiting for my iced mocha. And there's a gnarled crone (isn't there always) standing at the drinks bar bartering with the barista that's making drinks. I sense something juicy (and it ain't the raspberry syrup!) and sidle on down.
OLD LADY: "This isn't hot enough."
BARISTA: "But you got it fifteen minutes ago."
OLD LADY: "But it isn't hot enough."
BARISTA: "And you got it fifteen minutes ago. What is wrong with it?"
OLD LADY: "IT ISN'T HOT ENOUGH FOR MY HUSBAND."
BARISTA: "Where is he?"
OLD LADY: "He's coming from downtown. I want it hot for him when he gets here."
BARISTA: Her eyes get wide, and I can see the many, many responses for this craziness bouncing around in her brain like Lotto balls in a hopper. Finally, the Starbucks "Just Say Yes" customer service philosophy pops out on top and she remakes the drink. I guess she remembers what it was. Obviously something simple, because she whips it out in no time flat. Like a tall latte I think, judging from the size of the cup and the fact that there was no syrup or anything.
BARISTA: "OK. Here's a new drink."
OLD LADY: "Well. It isn't going to be hot when he gets here."
OLD LADY: "He like it to be real hot. He like hot coffee."
BARISTA: "I just made it."
At this point, I should note that the old lady now has TWO drinks. The one that "isn't hot enough," and the new one, the one the barista just made.
The barista gets tired of jabbering with the old crone and yells for the manager. He comes running, especially once he sees that there's an old biddy involved.
MANAGER: "Can I help you?"
OLD LADY: "I need a new drink. This one isn't hot."
BARISTA: "She just asked me to make her a new drink. She said she the one she had wasn't hot enough."
OLD LADY: "It isn't hot enough for my husband."
MANAGER: "Where is he?"
OLD LADY: "He's coming up from downtown."
MANAGER: Gives her the *look* and goes to take both cups of coffee back from her, with the obvious intention of making a *fresh* cup of coffee once the husband gets there.
She ain't having NONE of that. She - now in possession of at least ONE ill-gotten latte - intends to keep it - and probably intends to go for another.
OLD LADY: "No. These aren't any good."
MANAGER: "Why did you order for him if he's 10 miles away?"
OLD LADY: "I ...... " No answer. She's a scammer. I wonder if the husband even exists - except in her own mind.
MANAGER: GRABS THE COFFEE CUPS OVER THE BAR AND STARTS A TUG OF WAR WITH HER, EXCEPT THAT SHE PROVES TO BE SURPRISINGLY STRONG. "I wish you hadn't done that, because now we have to throw out two cups of coffee."
OLD LADY: "Well don't do that. I'll drink them."
MANAGER: GIVES HER *ANOTHER* LOOK. Like "You must be crazy woman! To think you're going to get THREE cups of coffee for the price of one."
OLD LADY: "He's coming from downtown and he wants hot coffee when he gets here!"
MANAGER: I can see the internal deliberation. How much are two lattes worth? How much fuss with this cow potentially raise? It *IS* just coffee and water at the end of the day? RIGHT? And I certainly don't get paid for this. "Fine. Take it." And he lets go of the cups. I was rooting for them to splash the old biddy, but alas, no drama there.
She marches over to her chair and settles in, with two lattes to her credit.
I stayed there for a good 45 minutes.
I never did see a husband.
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