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Category Archives: Tea Drinkers

Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls…Piss off and Bug Someone Else, Like You Used To.

 

I’m going to have to return AGAIN to the problem of hot water. Because really, some people get it, some people don’t. We’re not insured for hot water. Because it is free, and therefore we cannot be insured against it. And it is a bit burny. Which means it’s dangerous. Which means we need insurance so our LOVELY fuck-over-anyone-for-something-free customers don’t sue us. Without even buying a drink.

So another stick-up-her-arse-golden spoon-not-wedged-far-enough-down-her-oesophagus  type comes in. She wants hot water. No. Sorry.

‘I’ve had it before.’

This is steam. It burns. It also comes out of my ears when you insist on being a moron

So what? Not here.

‘I’ve had it before.’

Sometimes, just because things have happened once, doesn’t mean they happen again. Times they are a-changing. Roll with it. Also, your argument is illogical.

‘Well, I’m going to Bosta then! THEY’LL give me hot water. How do you like that?’

I like it very much. Very, very much. So much that I might send Bosta a Thank You card for getting your arrogant arse out of here, and a complaints card that they didn’t do it soon enough.

Also, why are you coming into a coffee shop to get hot water, you fucking cheapskate.

Also, you’re not going to outsmart us by asking for tea without the tea bag in it. She gets this smug smile on her face like she’s worked out E=fucking MC squared.

Then we tell her she has to pay for tea, even if she’s not using the teabag (duh). And watching the smile fall from her face was probably the only moment of enjoyment. Apart from when she tried slamming the door behind her. The automatic door. Quite frankly, I’m scared of what the dumb bitch could do with a cup of hot water.

 

Phew. Man that feels better.

 

(This post was written in typing, blinding fury at the end of a shift. Mainly because I was scared that by the time I’d driven home, I would have retained my composure and sense of perspective. And no-one here wants that, do they? They want my rage! So, hope you enjoyed!)

 

Happy Bloody New Year Indeed!

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The Return of Father Apocalypse

So, Old Man Vicar comes in again today, asks for his usual. I put on my best ‘good child at school’ voice, make inane conversation about the weather, and other small talk that makes me want to die.

And we go about our day. Except that we realise the old man isn’t just sitting nursing his tea as usual. He’s going from table to table collecting other people’s plastic bottles. He occasionally forgets where he’s put them, leaving them on the counter, by the merchandise. So we shrug our shoulders and clear them away.

He comes to the counter, visibly distressed.
‘Have you seen the plastic bottles?’
‘I’m sorry sir?’
‘The plastic bottles, I was collecting them!’
‘Oh, they were on the side so we threw them away, sir.’
‘Well, can you get them out of the bin for me?’

O…kay. Not the way I particularly want to spend a Saturday morning, but he’s watching like a hawk. I manage to save a few, and wonder if he’s trying to build a rocket from Oasis bottles and coke cans to get back to his home planet.

‘Thank you, recycling is very important to me.’ He says, little smile in place, and I kind of forgive him, seeing as he’s doing it for the good of the planet and all.
‘We could recycle it here for you?’ I offer.
‘No, it’s very important that I do it. The world’s going to end you know, it’s important to save all the vital materials people might need from me. The world will go up in flames, and there’ll be panic and chaos, but I’ll be fine,’ he grins, ‘I’ve got bottles.’

He waves them at me, and shuffles off. Since then, whenever he sits in the coffee shop, there’s always an array of plastics that he’s collected and then left somewhere. We clear them away and put them out back, because we know he’ll come looking for them as soon as he remembers.

The box out back is labelled ‘Crazy plastics man’.
Oh well, at least he didn’t ask for soya.

Torturing the environment, you say?