Your Barista Probably Hates You

I work for a major coffee shop chain. I experience a lot of silly shit on a daily basis. This is where I vent. It's probably half as funny as I think it is and makes me twice as likely to get fired. Insta: @moarweight

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

Welcome back!!!

You’re welcome

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

hey, are u judging drinks still? i’m a new starting barista at starbucks!! my drink is a soy chai latte!! :3

Oh you sweet, summer child

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

Judge my drink yo: Venti green tea latte with soy and vanilla, extra hot, wet. 😙

The order rolls off your tongue with the familiarity of a movie quote; one you remember but it takes a second to place the film it came from. It’s as much a part of you as the band that defined your high school years, whose album you still know every word of even though you haven’t heard it in years.

It’s not that the drink reminds you of home so much as it reminds you of who you were at home. You ran as far as you could, leaving everything behind you. New city, new state, new friends, new hobbies, new tastes. You left the rest in a dusty box tucked in the back of your parents attic.

Who you were and who you are are separated by so much more than miles and time. It was a conscious killing of the past and creation of your current self. You picked over a laundry list of “musts” and “shoulds”, building a new identity for yourself that might finally pass as whole.

You had to but you’re still not entirely sure you really wanted to.

And so you kept this one thing. The drink you’ve been ordering for years, the one momento you didn’t even intend to keep. At first, it was just automatic. A force of habit. A daily ritual. 

But as you grew disenchanted with your new surroundings, the promise of a new life giving way to the realization that a thousand miles is too abstract a foundation upon which to build a new you, you clung to this drink like a memory. 

Every sip takes you home, to your parents living room, to comfort and warmth. There’s a peace to it that centers your day, that gives you a sense of continuity, that you have not been so lost that you can’t find the way back to you. That this harsh transition can still become the transformation you always sought.

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

Waittttt u expect people to tip?!? I never do, and if I do, I put it in the charity pot not the pot for the workers... damn I feel like a bad person now

Thats because youre a bad person

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

What are the four playbook principles?

Bitch, did you mistake this for a google search?

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

judge my drink: tall pike

blink twice if you need help

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

How to not be a shitwaffle customer

1. Make eye contact. Say hello, please and thank you. This is basic “how to be nice to people” level shit. Baristas are people. Dont forget that.    2. Tip.  2a. Spare change is standard for a drip coffee. $1 for anything you can’t make yourself. $20 minimum for ordering frappuccinos for your kids entire soccer team.  2b. If the difference between a good tip and a great tip is less than a dollar, leave a great tip. 

3. Put things back where you got them from.  If you’re looking at merch and decide you don’t want something you’ve picked up, walk your happy ass back to where you got it from.  4. Clean up after yourself.  If you spill something, clean that shit up. If your kid pukes all over the chairs, FUCKING ASK FOR A GODDAMNED ROLL OF PAPER TOWELS AND CLEAN THAT SHIT UP. We didn’t choose to birth that hellspawn, we’re not cleaning up it’s bilious secretions.  5. Stop trying to game the system. You’re a goddamned adult. Pay for the drink you want and stop thinking that ordering it in a clever way will save you 30 cents. Just don’t do it, you galactic fucktrumpet.  6. Don’t hit on the barista. You’re creepy and your tired, flabby assed joke about “tall blondes” was never funny.  

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

One of y’all sassy motherfuckers is gonna have to give me a heads up on when Thanksgiving Blend hits the shelves. Im not really paying attention. 

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

When I was first starting off as a barista a year ago I was going through surgery for my birthmark on my face-it would bleed without me knowing- while I was on my half in the back room it started bleeding and my boss panicked so bad she started to scream.SCREAM. "WHATS WRONG WITH YOU?!" I was so shook I almost left my job RIGHT THERE... two days later... she came to me and told me she Marked me on my record that I am a biohazard... she wrote down something I physically cannot control...

As metal as it is to say “blood literally drips from my face” that is, in fact, a biohazard. Though Im shocked that Starucks cared. I was once made to work the drive thru. On Thanksgiving/Black Friday midnight shift. With pink eye. 

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

This is a place to vent my barista problems too, right? Good. I work at a local coffee chain but there are a few Starbucks in town. We get people that come through asking for venti sized drinks. The pissy person that I am always asks if they meant a small, medium or large. It never fails to make the person flip their shit and tell me that they said a large, when in fact you said venti which I technically don't need to know because this isn't a Starbucks. Damn!

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

Are you judging drinks? I'm a barista here is mine: vanilla cappuccino extra dry, and three shots. Whole milk preferribly if I know the barista can get it frothed. 2% if they don't know how.

If you ever find yourself lying awake at 3am wondering "do my friends really like me or am I the one in the group that's only there so the rest can bond over mocking me behind my back?" the answer is the latter and this type of shit is why.

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

If i wanted a coffee that is just hot (boiling) water, a little milk, and thats it, what is it called? i thought it was flat white but thats all milk.

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

Judge my drink: iced ristretto grande 2 vanilla latte macchiato with nutmeg mixed into the milk

Your drink is the culinary equivalent of your moustache. Sure, it might get you noticed but it has all the appeal of a taxidermied ferret.

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

Would you be so kind as to judge my drink?: Venti Caramel Macchiato, cali-style with whip.

There’s an artificial length to your sentences that extends beyond the words you use. It’s a conscious rhetorical device you use to give an odd ethereal weight to the vapidness of your cultivated, art house observational style of speech.This town is so dense. The streetlights wash us in translucence. This venue exudes an ironic authenticity. This coffeehouse is authentically ironic. You talk constantly about the life you’re chasing in another town, another time, another body. You curse the mediocrity of your circumstance because surely, you’re greatness was merely misplaced by circumstances before your birth. Beyond your control. Your parents chose this place. Not you. You deserve better. You dream of a life in larger cities, flashier scenes, better music, more valid art. You believe there is a “better” out there, somewhere, where you arent. You ignore that what makes a place special is the people, not the zip code. You’re a cultural leech. The type that thinks living in Austin makes you hip, simply because of the proximity to so many excellent things. You contribute nothing to the culture you want so badly to embrace, expecting other people to define, control and ultimately distribute “coolness” onto you. You’re the worst sort of mendacious hipster, so completely convinced that your value is determined by what block you live on, rather than trying to make the block you live on cool. Fuck you. 

[todaysdocument]

Did you sleep through National #CoffeeDay on Thursday?

From @usnatarchives‘ “Unwritten Record” blog, here’s just the jolt of caffeine you need, “The Story of Coffee”:

Coffee is a morning staple for many of us. The gurgle of the coffee pot; the ceramic warmth of a favorite mug; the rich aroma of caffeinated bliss… Yes, whether we make it ourselves or buy it from our friendly neighborhood baristas, coffee is culturally pervasive. And it has been for generations. But have you ever wondered about the life of coffee before it gets stuffed in our kitchen cupboards, brewed on our counter tops, or poured into our paper cups exclaiming “Caution: Contents Hot!”?

From the 1940’s Department of Agriculture (RG 16-G) I present – the story of coffee.

Keep reading at:  Spotlight: The Making of Coffee | The Unwritten Record

“Coffee samples from various areas are being tested for taste and aroma by Sr. Aldo Cabella. Oficina Central de Cafe, Guatemala City, Guatemala. Mitchell. 4-3-47″

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

Thought some of ya’ll nerds might enjoy this. 

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

Judge my drink: grande green tea latte, +2 pumps peppermint, +2 pumps classic, extra hot, no foam.

You’re the type of person who will spend $200 on a shirt that was made for $5 so you can look like you shop in the 50 cent bin at your local thrift store. 

[yourbaristaprobablyhatesyou]

Judge My Drink: Ristretto Edition

Judge my drink..? Iced Ristretto Caramel Macchioto with extra drizzle and cinnamon dolce syrup It’s not that people don’t want to hang out with you, it’s just that... Wait.  No, it’s totally you.  judge my drink: venti iced americano with 4 pumps white mocha I’d be shocked to learn that your vape doesnt have different LEDs to match whatever fedora you decided to wear today.  Judge my drink. Venti caramel macchiato w/ 4 pumps vanilla, 4 pumps toffee nut, 4 scoops matcha steamed in and 6 shots of espresso. You’re the Bukowski fan our friends warned us about.  Judge my drink please? Venti cinnamon dolce Frappuccino with an add shot and no whip Someone at some point in your past told you that that weird Jennifer Aniston bob cut looked good on you.  They were lying.   Judge my drink: grande iced quad ristretto white mocha affogato shot with caramel and mocha drizzle. Your political screeds on Facebook arent nearly as insightful as you think they are.