A student writer can’t merely survive on the earnings from freelancing. It’s just not possible. With tuition, rent, gas money, and the occasional latte, it is necessary to get a part time job. This October, I got one of those job things. Since being hired onto the staff of a prestigious coffee company where I dress in black like a beat poet and don a green apron. People come to our store because they know that they will get great customer service and great coffee.

 

Last week, the head honchos from the head office came to check out our holiday setup and make sure we were doing things right. I was minding my own business, making fresh coffee, when they came up to me and asked: “How did you come to [GreatCoffeeLand]?” I told them that I had always been a customer.

What makes great customer service? My company’s mission is not just to provide great customer service—no— we prescribe to the term: legendary customer service. I know it sounds a bit “campfire” but it is pretty dang smart if you ask me. When you walk in our doors on a daily basis, we learn your face, your name, or your usual drink. We strive to know you. You aren’t just a number to us or another customer, you are a person—one that deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. We treat you like a friend, not like an annoyance or bother. When something goes wrong, when your drink doesn’t taste sweet enough, or is too strong, or is not as hot as you’d like it, or you’ve decided that you want that extra shot of espresso, we’ll fix it for you. We don’t roll our eyes or make a big deal about it because we’re happy when we’re making you happy. If you come in our doors for the first time and are confused we will help you to figure out what you want. If you want a light-bodied coffee with a medium roast and subtle notes of cocoa, I can tell you which one to buy. If you’re trying to eat healthy, I can point you towards a pastry that is fibre-filled or a drink with protein in it.

 

One evening I had a customer who ordered a latte. I made it perfectly—I had made about a hundred by then. She looked at me disdainfully as I made it and as I was about to hand it off to her, she said “That’s not enough foam! Is that all?” Had she asked for extra foam at the register? Nope. No matter, I told her it would only take a moment and I made extra, taking my time to “baby” the milk I was steaming so that the foam would be perfect. I filled it with at an inch of foam and she still looked at me like she was disgusted. As I handed the drink to her, I asked if that was enough and she have a half-hearted: “Yeah” I told her I would put more on, but she refused my offer. I smiled at her and turned away to make the next drink. Little did I know that our encounter was not yet over.

 

“Do you have a sleeve?” She asked. I got one from the dispenser and put it on the counter next to her drink. What she said next shocked me. “Do I have to put it on myself?” She questioned, incredulous that she might have to lift a finger to put a sleeve on her drink. Now, what would you do if you were serving this customer? Would you say, “Excuse me, are you an amputee? I think you are more than capable of putting your own drink sleeve on.” Would you make up a fake answer about health regulations to force her to put the sleeve on herself and thus punish her for being so rude and difficult? Would you take her extra-foamy latte and sweep it off of the counter, watching it make a great brown arc in the air before it splattered on her scrunched-up irate face? Or, would you smile and say, “If you would like me to put it on, I can do that,” and then slip the sleeve on, smile extra wide and wish her a good evening?

 

I did the last one, even though the first three choices ran quickly though my mind. People shouldn’t be rude to the folks that are serving them, but most of the time they are. They will roll their eyes at you if you count out their change a bit slowly, or look at you like you’re the dumbest person alive when there is a drip down the side of their cup, but my job isn’t to teach anyone how to be a better person or how to treat others with love and respect. That was their parent’s job, and then their own responsibility when they entered the wide world of adulthood. Sometimes you just have to laugh it off and feel sorry for the people who treat you badly. They are usually very unhappy. Hopefully customers will respect us as a reflection of how much we respect them.

 

So, despite the occasional harrowing experience, I enjoy interacting with the customers who come into my store. I actually love my job. It’s not really “work” as some people view it. I do a lot, and I had to learn a lot to be able to serve in the capacity that I do, but I enjoy myself every day. I have fun. And now, I get lattes for free.