I also realised today that I am a tea-drinker's coffee drinker. I don't like tea, but just like a tea drinker likes a subtle wake up drink in the morning, I too can't take the whack of a too-strong coffee.
I am currently stood in Bean Scene on Nicolson Street. (Third realisation this morning; it is very difficult to go exploring for new coffee shops when your shift starts at 8:45am.) I walk past this place a lot, but to be completely honest have never felt inspired to go in. It's just a bit beige and I mean that in both a literal and metaphorical sense. This morning, however, craving caffeine and having walked past three closed coffee shops, I went in. Inside was pretty beige too, but there on the counter shining like a Bible was the Metro. Other than the Guardian online I feel like this is the only other connection I have to London.
I ordered my coffee. Problem number one hits. If there is one thing I hate it is poor customer service. Where they see the customer as an inconvenience. I was that inconvenience, or more specifically an interruption to their conversation. Shame on me! Bad customer wanting a coffee in a coffee shop.
This is probably the time when I should mention I have actually been banned from my local Costa coffee. Yes, my rock and roll moment happened in a Costa. After a tedious, wearying and aggravating ten minutes of terrible customer service I threw the biggest diva-like fit you can imagine. There was shouting, endless drinks and spilt coffee. The exact details I can't remember. Just like those murderers claim on documentaries that they blackout, I too walked out of the shop thinking "What the hell just happened?" I'm feisty I know, but I've never been banned. And just like that fourteen year old girl saying the F word for the first time I thought "I don't do that. That's not me!" Well f**k it, it is now!
So as you can imagine customer service is a bit of a hot topic for me. The girls in Topshop talking about Katie's boyfriend being a d**khead or Darren not folding the T-shirts properly do not get a thank you from me as they pack my bag. Now the two ladies in Bean Scene weren't rude, just a bit dismissive. They uttered grunts instead of worded answers.
Problem number two: the coffee while perfectly hot and full to the brim was very bitter. I know some people like this. Bitter is often what coffee is about, but for me it was just like a smack in the face. And at 8:45am I'd rather have a hug with a tight squeeze at the end to wake me up. Neither the service or the coffee offered me that.
I walked along Nicolson Street, the punch of coffee lessening as I did so. Then realisation number four came. Yes it was a day of realisations. As I watched a young girl pull a wedgie out I thought "I can't do that!" At twenty-five if I pulled a wedgie out in the middle of the street people would just think I was disgusting. Surely that's ageism? At what age do you have to stop publicly picking wedgies and at what age can you start again? Surely at seventy you're entitled to an unconcealed nicker pick, but why at twenty-five when you inevitably need it most is it not allowed?
This realisation was probably most noticeable today as just the other day wearing a pair of skinny jeans that were quite obviously a size too small for me I had a severe wedgie dilemma. And unlike this little girl on the street who freely plucked her nickers from her bum I had to hide inconveniently between a potted plant and my flatmate.
Hm I seem to have digressed, I apologise. If there are four things you should have learnt from this post they should be;
1. With a Costa ban as proof I hate bad customer service.
2. I think we should all be entitled to pick wedgies (except middle-aged men with sweaty, hairy backs and builder's bums. We already give them enough allowances.)
3. I become easily distracted, a flaw that has perhaps lead to my quarter-life crisis (that's a whole other blog)
4. Unless you want below average customer service, a bit of beige and a metaphorical smack in the face I wouldn't advise going to Bean Scene. For coffee with a side of early morning TLC go elsewhere.
Frothy Fun Fact of the day: Wedgies have a whole Wikipedia page dedicated to them with different descriptions for different kinds of wedgies. Unlike the UK where wedgies are mostly accidental, in the US they are practically a sport. For example, The Melvin is a variant where the underwear is pulled up from the front. Ouch!
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