Ricci Schwarzler - Cold Coffee

‘What the fuck.’

‘What?’

‘Every time.’

‘What?’

‘This fucking coffee is cold.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘I'm going to tell them.’

‘Ohhhh.’

‘Excuse me girly.’

‘Oh no.’

‘Yes.’ says the eighteen-year-old, astounded at the address.

‘My fucking coffee is cold AGAIN,’ says my 89 year old mother. To say the girlie was astounded is an understatement.

‘Go to get the manager!’ With this girlie slinks off and talks to the manager.

A very well dressed lady strides over, jaw set, looking more like she has stepped out of a lawyers corporate office than a café.

‘Yes Madam?’

‘Every time we come here, your staff deliver cold fucking coffee. Even when I’ve asked for it to be extra hot.’

‘Madam please don't swear. I'm offended by your bad language. Please have respect for myself and my staff.

‘Oh no,’ I mutter under my breath.

‘My bad language? Respect? Offence? You must be kidding me Miss. I’m offended by your café’s (which is managed by you) inability to deliver coffee that is hot. I'm also offended by your disrespect of me and presumably your other clientele. Surely you don't have any respect for any of us since you continue to disrespect us with coffee that's cold AND as to my bad language, that is a consequence of your bad service delivery.’

With this, Miss turns on her heels and prepares another coffee herself. The steam gushing from the Barista machine is more evident than we have ever seen. She delivers it and plonks it in front of my mother.

Mum looks at the serious amount of steam billowing from it she looks at our manager who now has coffee on her corporate lawyer outfit and smiles.

‘Thank you’ she says.

We chat and the coffee cools a bit. Thankfully that issue has been dealt with.

Mum takes a sip and promptly splurts it out across the table.

‘MISSY! There is not enough coffee in this COFFEE.’