I went into the café down the street where the coffee is good and the service is rocky at best. It’s the kind of place where you could find yourself waiting upwards five minutes at the front of a line with nobody in it. But the product they make absolutely blows the competition out of the water. It’s abusive, really, the way they hold their superior product up for ransom so you have to feel like a second-class citizen before you can enjoy the best tiramisu in town.
So today I had enough time, I felt, to prove a point. I was going to march right in there, stand at the front of the line for a good two minutes and leave abruptly so that those autocrats behind the counter could know, once and for all, that their product will not be sold at the cost of my sanity and sense of self-worth. I could picture it: three people in the whole shop, the tables virtually empty, and me waiting, patiently at first. Then beginning to tap my foot anxiously as each employee snubs me, one at a time telling me how “It’ll just be another minute,” while they take the next five minutes to figure out their business model. Then I storm out righteously and patron any of the other myriad coffee shop/cafes in town.
Who in the hell do you even think you are, EuroCaffe.
So I march in. Three employees and two lonely tables inhabiting the whole place. I walk up, money in hand, just to let them know I came in knowing what I want and I do not “need a minute” to read over the menu.
Then the girl at the counter promptly takes my order and makes my drink. I walk out, much to my chagrin, a satisfied customer. You win this time, EuroCaffe.
