Unwilling Customer 2

This isn’t the original “Unwilling Customer” post. Unfortunately the first “Unwilling Customer” post is still a draft. But I promise you that it is a doozy. I remember when it happened. It had me in tears when it was all said and done. Ask my butcher, he witnessed the punchline while I pretended not to know what happened. So look for it in the near future.

This is the second “Unwilling Customer” post, and it occurred today. But before I get into the Unwilling, I’d like to tell you about the exceptionally Willing customer that came in today. It was a group of 3 30ish year old adults; 1 guy, and 2 girls. They patiently waited for me to finish the orders ahead of them. Then it was their turn.

For whatever reason I asked the guy his order. He said “umm” twice right off the get. I was about to ask him, “why do you say ummm so much?” When his wife jumped in and finished his order (sausage egg mozzarella bagel). She then proceeded to tell me her sister’s order (sausage egg tomato) and finally her order (oatmeal).

I was so impressed that I commended her on her ability to place an order. She then told me that she worked at a bagel shop in NY and was all too familiar with the “ummmm” routine. She also said the “Be Decisive” on the board made her husband nervous and that’s what caused his inability to place an order. A few moments later, after they had seated themselves, the guy came back up to pay. It wasn’t the most convenient moment for me to work the register, but I commended him on his ambition to give me money and stroked the register. Thinking about it now, I wonder if he left me that 5 star review on Google that came in today.

Now, for the Unwilling Customer. So, part of running a bagel shop is knowing when to open, and when to close. There’s a point in the afternoon, about 1pm, when the high maintenance folks come out. They usually come in by themselves, have nothing else to do, aren’t working, and are good for a $4 sale at most. They are very unprofitable, and require way too much attention. So the first clue that it is time to close is the solo high maintenance customer.

So a single gentleman comes in at, I kid you not, 5 minutes till 1pm. I give him the, “what’s up dude?” He responds with, “not much” followed by, “how are you?” I ignore his question and try to close a sale.

He starts asking me about my mocha. I respond with another question because I hate questions. You don’t go to Pancake Day and ask them how they make their pancakes. You simply eat the pancakes. You wouldn’t ask your grandma how she made her dish du jour, you just eat it and say Thank You.

So this guy is irritating me, but I give him the Steamy try and continue trying to close the sale. He proceeds to ask me at least 3 more questions. I tell him I have a Marzocco and I generally use cocoa powder instead of syrup, but offer him the syrup if that’s what he wants. He actually seemed impressed that I use cocoa powder instead of syrup.

But now I’m getting impatient with him. I point out to that the Rules are posted and Rule #1 is “I ask the Questions around here.” So I look him dead in the eye and say “Let’s try this again, Would you like a mocha?”

Now the guy is shook. He’s obviously used to Mom waiting on him like an indentured servant. He was late 20s, about 6 foot, glasses, and would be considered scrawny if the didn’t have that midsection fat protruding from his chest and belly. And he’s shook. So he musters up the rest of his confidence and tries to defend his questions. “You don’t like answering questions? Shouldn’t you cater … (I tuned out)?”

By now I’m ready for this Bozo to take a hike because it’s 1pm and I’m ready to go home. So now my stare becomes more of a squint and I start to scowl with my mouth. I begin by lifting my head in an attempt to look down at him, even though he’s clearly taller than me, and I tell/yell at him “DON’T TELL ME HOW TO RUN MY BUSINESS. Last chance, would you like a mocha?” He maintains his rights as a selfish momma’s boy to be high maintenance, and responds with something that was not an affirmative.

I look at him, straight through his eyes and into his soul, and say, “get out of here.” And at this point, Mr High Maintenance can’t even look me in the face. On his way out he mumbles something under his breath. I wasn’t paying him much attention at this point, it’s not like there was a sale at stake, but I’m pretty sure he started to cry.

I swear to you internet, my word is bond. I will cooperate with you if you cooperate with me. I want to sell bagels and coffee. That’s what I do. But you have to cooperate with me. Had that guy said I would like a 12oz double espresso mocha latte with 1 pump of syrup I would of made it. He never said anything that sounded like an order and was asked to leave. You do the math.