Bantering with the Barista-Bar Chronicles #1

We’ve all joked about writing a book chronicling the characters we meet, on the street, at our work, and on our travels. I’ve had a couple of customers these last two days that would be among those listed in the chapter: Bantering with the Barista-People I’ve Served at the Bar (feel free to come up with your own (better?) title and write it in the comments section).

A classic was the guy that came in Friday. We have these cups on display to illustrate to the customer the sizes for the drinks. The cups for the cold drinks have dome-type lids on the samples. The guy hems and haws about what to get and finally ends up ordering an Iced Coffee. Upon handing him his coffee, his eyes glaze over (Eyes’d coffee?) and he yells, “Where’s the whip cream?” To which I reply, “Uh, you didn’t ask for whip cream.”
“But that’s what you advertise!” I ask him to explain himself, and he stomps around the kiosk, points to the dome lid, and says, “See!” Then he rips the lid off of the sample cup, all the while frothing at the mouth (in place of whip cream?) and ranting about, “If you are going to advertise something, then you need to serve it that way!”

Black untamed hair all akimbo, this Italian guy came in to the store today. His girlfriend stood across the way, her black dress flowing to slightly below her knees (half-calf?), her shawl stylishly thrown over one-and-a-half shoulders.

We ask him his name, as usual, and with an Italian accent, he says, “Paulo.” I’m not sure that the word caricature would have leapt to mind, had it not been for the heart tattoo’d on his forearm, above the word, “Amor.”