Shit went down today.
Folks, gather around, ’cause it’s story-time. Prepared to be mind-blowned:
I was out and about this lovely Sunday afternoon, killing time in the shopping plaza when I decided to buy myself a boba milk tea (for those of you who don’t know what it is, think of boba as the equivalent of your Starbucks Coffee).
So I went to a nearby tea house, got in line, and ordered my cup o’ tea. Waited for the workers to process, make, and deliver my order.
Around then, I noticed a woman, sitting at the waiting bench with her little son and mother. She didn’t look too happy. She got up, and went directly to the cashier.
“Where is my order? I’ve been waiting an hour for it!” (I don’t know if she had actually been waiting that long, since she was there before me). “I ordered a caramel milk tea. Did you hear me? C-A-R-A-M-E-L milk tea with boba! Did you get my order?!”
The cashier looked a bit taken back, but she reassured the woman that the order would arrive soon. With a huff, the woman returned to her seat.
The caramel milk tea arrived, and the cashier offered it to her. And the next thing that the woman said?
“What is this?! This isn’t what I ordered! I told you, specifically, that I wanted a white chocolate milk tea with boba! WHITE. CHOCOLATE. MILK. TEA.”
I could’ve sworn that she had said caramel milk tea before.
Poor workers. It was peak-hours and these staff members, who couldn’t possibly be any older than I am (aka high-school, college-age), were flustered and tried to calm the woman down. But no, it didn’t work.
“I am super unsatisfied with service right now; I demand to speak with the manager! Where is he? Are you the manager?” She pointed to one of the guys manning the milk tea machine. A guy who, again, could not possibly be older than 17. The guy replied that he wasn’t the manager.
“Then where is he?! Is your manager here right now?” At this point, the woman was stepping dangerously into the kitchen territory. The workers responded that their manager wasn’t present at the moment.
By now, a long line for orders was forming, and the woman’s mother told her, “You know, we should just go; it’s been too long.”
“The hell I’m not! I am going to stay here and get my order right!”
So finally, the worker gave her her “correct” drink. He apologized profusely for the inconvenience; he was pretty much kissing her ass.
But the woman just took the drink, and said, albeit somewhat saucily,
“Just letting you know, I’m never coming back here again!” And walked out of there with a flourish.
Soon after she left, I got my order. Out of sympathy for these unfortunate employees, I gave them a tip for their trauma.
So…it had been an interesting day. Really, it got me thinking- how there’s some pretty damn rude customers in this world. Let alone difficult to deal with. Yeah, so the workers made an error with your order; it happens, man. But when you made a loud, even obnoxious fuss about it, you’re the bad guy. And I hope to God that I never have to deal with these pricks in my own profession.
Funny enough, I look back on this and laugh. ‘Cause although it was a super serious situation, at the same time it was just absurd.
And that, my friends, was my boba adventure.
– The Finicky Cynic