I also had people ask me for the slug bag. On the worst Easter I ever worked at Starbucks I looked away for a *second* and when I turned back, a customer had snagged one and was trying to pour it into his macchiato. I snapped that this wasn’t barista fantasy camp and he dropped the whole thing into one of the pitchers…

Is it possible these people are really just a shit-ton of ants operating a human suit?

A dear friend of mine is known to give multiple reminders for Extra Caramel. *hangs head*

He deserves to be punched in the face with a Kia.

A whiteness of teenage girls ordering frappuccinos.

My response to those types is usually “I don’t come to your work kickin’ dicks out yo’ mouth...”

Do restaurant staff come into your office, yell at you, and then tell you how to do your job?

This story could’ve happened at my old Starbucks, it sounded so familiar. Anyone who has worked at Starbucks has met a caramel fiend. They are the same every where- always leaning over the counter and hissing about more caramel. And they always have a creepy gleam in their eyes. I remember taking the top off the…

NOPE. Unless they specifically ask you for advice, do not give advice, ever, for any reason. If they’re shitty, welp, they’re shitty, but you telling them how to be better will not make them less shitty, it will only serve your own need for self-aggrandizement.

I was in a Starbucks yesterday and a gaggle of teenage girls, (I feel like gaggle isn’t right for teenage girls. A flock? A murder? A murder.) a murder of teenage girls came in behind me. As I finished my order, the barista (who was a treasure of a human being and recommended a kick-ass fruit sauce for baked brie)…

“Her smooshed up face looked like a eager slice of wet ham”

DUDE. YES. Came here to say basically the same thing.

When I was 15 and working in a public library, I regularly had people who came up to me and went, “I read this book and it was really popular in 1979. You must remember it! Tell me what it was!”

4:55, Christmas eve, bookstore. Man runs in and says ‘I absolutely have to have a gift for my girlfriends dad’.

All these people need punched.

Poor, poor hosts. Man, though: a good host is not a thing to be taken lightly. They’re a rare and precious resource.

I want to kill the family that harassed the host. Hosts are meant to be the punching bags of the servers, not the customers.

I love that sort of thing.

Sweet, sweet Casey. You had my attention with the LD language, my heart at your similar dislike for grody frozen lattes, and my sympathy when that hamfisted bitch threw said drink at you. Jesus.

For some reason I kept reading “Ferrari Guy” as “Guy Fieri.”