JELLY BELLY

M m m m m m m m m 

 

Today was quite a show.

     My shift was the 2 to 9.  I came on and worked the register for 2 hours straight.  

     My shift Manager was Lena, a young lady in her late 20's that was pregnant.  Halfway through those two hours, a question came across the counter posed by a customer-- in front of the two of us,--to which I turned to Lena, who was standing at the register next to mine, for an answer. 
     The question was specifically about sugar free syrups and, if you ordered something "skinny" did that mean they would automatically use sugar free syrups or just make it with non-fat milk?  I, myself, thought it was a good question, because the order stipulations/variations at the green apron know no bounds.  Lena, in complete, obvious disdain for all human interaction, did not look up from the register she was forced to take because my line was moving so slow.  --I turned to Lena for response, as, this customer absolutely did not want any sugar-free items in her vanilla latte. 

     In sharp, curt words, WHILE NOT LOOKING UP, she told the lady that if she ordered "skinny" she would get sugar-free.  Then Lena walked away jingling her manager keys.  The woman, now showing a blank stare, turned to me, so I encouraged her—from here on out—just order a NON-FAT vanilla latte.  Then, there would be a 50/50 chance she would end up with something without the sugar-free vanilla.  That magic word “skinny” ruins everything.  Including your health.  

     The lady with the vanilla syrup latte and Lena's disdain for her job, combined with Panties working as Barista, created the trifecta of work environments for me.

     Lena used the pregnancy card as much as possible.  Each time she vocalized something about her pregnancy, like how tired she was, or how big she was getting, or how she needed to sit down for a little while…. I was sure to chime in that I worked in the federal prison as a correctional officer on the south side of Chicago until my 7^th month of pregnancy, and that surely this job couldn’t possibly be as strenuous or as stressful as that.  

     She, as well as others, would glare at me as though I did not think her unborn baby worked hard enough.

     Lena would prop her feet up on Noel's desk in the back, pull her shirt up to her boobs, and her pants down low to expose her belly and then gel it all up and plug in a baby heart rate monitor. 

     The first time she did this I was shocked.  She did this at the Store Manager's desk, which was the only desk in the building, and the only desk to eat at- on break.  At first, I thought there was something wrong with her unborn fetus, that she had to check the heart rate periodically or something, but no, as it turns out, she did it to garner attention.  

     I could not imagine any proper mother in her right mind acting in such a needy way.

I pitied her unborn child.  It would surely be fighting for attention right out of the canal.
     Noel, the Store Manager, never stopped her.  I had a hard time believing this was all approved corporate behavior.  Lena wasn't even on break when she did this.  She would just prop her feet up where all of us ate, where schedules and notes were left..where money bags were thrown on...I mean...this desk was far from clean..... and gel up her belly.
     I gave birth to three daughters and worked during all my pregnancies. Never would I have thought to display my belly in such unconventional fashion during any of those times. I guess my thinking was too professional.  I stared at the gel-rub glopping--and realized where I was...deep in the heart of the South....that some moms just didn't have class.....

Hee-haw.  I thought to myself, and walked away.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Well-meaning people walk up and say "Give me a non-fat, no-foam, extra whip 2-pump mocha,

1-pump hazelnut, 1-pump raspberry  latte.
     To which I reply, "What size?" and then make them repeat the entire order  again, because the first thing in my cue is the size.

     Sure, at times I’ll go along and press all of those buttons out, not knowing how the end of the story will turn out, and granted, the more complicated, my heightened curiosity is really peaked when they say "latte,"  and then say,"...no, no...no..I meant frappichino….and, you know, make it a Venti." Which pretty much erases everything on the order screen-- and I politely say--"I'm sorry....what was that again?"

     I think to myself—listen people...These things are custom blended, and I have to write all this on the cup.

     First off, if you bother to tell me the CUP SIZE FIRST—I take that cup—and write on it as we go along—and when you say—very slight ice—or—(and here’s a good one)—“just a splash of lemonade” I can write that out on the cup—heck, I have written novels on those paper cups...because there is absolutely no button that says 'just a splash of lemonade.'  There just isn’t.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Lena couldn't remain all gelled up with a baby heart rate monitor at her belly all day--so I called her up to the front of the store for another question posed by a very nice young man at my register.  
     Naturally this ticked her off.

     The young man ordered a "holiday" drink that was a frappuccino. And, by holiday--I mean it was offered at Christmas time.  It was now April.
     But, people do this all the time--order things that are not on the menu.   The holidays are over.  But, he was still ordering the drink.  And, apparently, did the same thing THE DAY BEFORE. Which, incidentally, I am perfectly fine with. I just press buttons.  I have been here for 2 months and the store manager, Noel, has never mentioned that I should learn how to make a drink.  Every employee working at this location is afraid of Noel, so they assume her forgetfulness in training me how to become proficient at 'bar' means I have exceptional customer service skills.  So, that is where I'll stay.
     Buttons change every day here at the green apron.  The corporate computers take over our computers and "update them" and voila! new menu items! If that button gets removed it becomes a complex sequence of buttons and then subsequently, novel-writing on the cup to which the end result is a higher price.  A "salted caramel mocha frappuccino." is no longer on the register.  But, he ordered it and said the price was too high.
     Now, I didn't push the buttons on my register for that order, seeing as how I was still too new and never taught ANYTHING on bar--I had no idea what ingredients went into such a beverage--one of my co-workers pressed all the buttons for this one.  I just told the man the price.
     He complained the price was too high.  That he had came in yesterday and paid less.  I called up Lena who argued with him and told him that, "Whoever rang him up yesterday did it wrong because you have to charge for caramel and you have to charge for toffee nut and all of this goes in to the mocha frappuccino  And, by the way, we don’t have the salt for the topping. So, you can get a drink LIKE a salted caramel mocha frappuccino, but it will be missing the garnish—and you will still pay full price."    

     Thinking to myself –surely she would be kind and offer to take one of the two additional 60-cent charges for the syrups off his order once she saw he was so disappointed and upset.  But  instead, she ranted—"yes, of course it is cheaper when you order it when it is in our system—because we have a button for that.  But, they took away our button—so we just can't charge that same price."  And walked away from him.
     It was horrible.  I thought to myself--the customer service at my store is at it's zenith!!
     The young man turned to me and vowed to never come back.  I nodded in agreement--after all --why would I argue?   Lena could have cared less. There was no button for it -so pay extra!--we aren't creating anything custom for you--not a price, or a modified coffee without it's proper garnish--nope!                                       Not even for a loyal customer like you.
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