Customer Service
You walk into Carol’s Coffee Shop at seven thirty on a Monday morning. The place is sandwiched between a Pure Barre and a store that sells rubber flip-flops. Plants, upturned mugs, and jars filled with biscotti are stacked on the counter. There are few customers inside. They type on computers and chat over ceramic dishes.
You don’t have to wait in line. The barista who takes your order has long blonde hair, twisted in braids and decorated with large bows. It’s not Carol herself, but rather, a woman named Brenda. Her apron is clean.
She says welcome to Carol’s Coffee Shop. She asks you what you want.
You clear your throat and order a large iced vanilla latte and an everything bagel with chive cream cheese. She nods, then ducks behind a glass display case, scrawling on a plastic cup with a sharpie and drawing a knife to a bagel.
When she hands you your order, she’s given you a medium iced vanilla latte instead of a large one. The chive cream cheese is missing on one of the bagel halves. You glance at it for a moment, but Brenda looks busy, so you let her be. You drink your iced coffee and chomp on your bagel as you walk outside. But the bagel is a bit bland, and you feel just a bit more tired than usual.
You order the same thing the next day. Brenda’s hair is in braids again, but the bows are gone. Once more, she hands you the wrong order; this time, the iced vanilla latte is a small and your bagel hasn’t been toasted. You flag her down and ask her to correct it. She apologizes, and two minutes later, you leave Carol’s Coffee Shop, shaking the ice around your drink, listening to the cubes bob up and down. But the latte tastes watery, and your bagel is a smidge burnt.
You go there every day for the next week. It’s always the same order: a large iced vanilla latte and an everything bagel with chive cream cheese. And every single time, Brenda messes it up. Your latte is hot instead of iced. You have a cheese bagel instead of an everything bagel. On Thursday you think she’s nailed it, but as you begin nodding off during a work conference you realize she’s used decaf espresso. Whenever you ask her to remake your order, she complies, but it’s still a bit off, an extra pinch of sugar here, a missing dollop of cream cheese there. You toss your drink and bagel in the trash before you’re even half-finished, and secretly, you hope she’s watching you.
Is she doing it on purpose? Is she accidentally handing you other people’s orders? Is she mishearing you? Regardless, she shouldn’t be getting it this wrong every time. You know she’s fluent in English; her words are quick and unaccented. And wouldn’t she recognize the pattern—the same individual, requesting the same large iced vanilla latte and the same everything bagel with chive cream cheese?
On Saturday, her hair is in bows again. You walk up to the counter, lick your lips, widen your mouth, say, I’d like a large iced vanilla latte and an everything bagel with chive cream cheese, please. She says alright. She says I’ll get right to that. Six minutes later, she calls out your name. She hands you a hot peach tea and a slice of cranberry walnut bread.
You slam your fist into the counter. Damn it! You shout. This is the sixth day in a row I’ve ordered the same thing, and it’s the sixth day in a row you’ve fucked it up! I’ve had it! It’s not like I’m ordering some pumpkin spice bullshit with five shots of espresso and fifteen pumps of whatever! It’s ONE drink and ONE food item. So can you pick up your ass and go make me the large iced vanilla latte and everything bagel with chive cream cheese that I’m fucking asking for?
Brenda tells you to try the hot peach tea and the slice of cranberry walnut bread. She thinks you’ll like it. You try a bite of the bread and a sip of the tea. You raise your eyebrows.
The next day is Sunday. You plan to go to church, but first you stop by Carol’s Coffee Shop. You glance at your thumbs, covered in a fresh coat of polish, and order a hot peach tea and a slice of cranberry walnut bread. Brenda nods and says she’ll get on it. Five minutes later, she hands you a large iced vanilla latte and an everything bagel with chive cream cheese. It tastes terrible.
Cover photo by Bernadetta Watts
