I have worked at what we will call Coffee Shop X for close to 7 years. I have been a supervisor for 5 and a half of those years. It was my first job and I kinda just never left.
It was about 7:15 p.m. on a Tuesday night. Me and one other person were there working the closing shift. There was exactly one customer in the entire store, a regular at the shop. Not super uncommon for a night shift.
Enter young couple.
A man and a woman each with a backpack and each looking to be in their 20s settled into the comfy chairs in the corner by the big windows. The girl plugged in her cell phone. They did not appear to have any intention of buying anything, but being the reasonable human being that I am, I gave them a good 20-30 minutes to make a purchase.
A couple of emotional, slightly-too-loud phone calls later, it eventually became clear to me that making a purchase was not on their agenda. I approached them to (politely, nonchalantly) inform them of the basic policy of any business that requires that they buy something in order to earn the right to hang out in the shop.
Simple, polite enforcement of a pretty common-sense policy. If you are going to take up a seat, you need to make a purchase. For paying customers only, you can’t pee for free, etc. You know the drill. Buy a 50 cent truffle or something. I really D.G.A.F.
They seemed to be unaware of this policy, so I informed them. Loitering Boy didn’t seem to mind and left almost right away. Loitering Girl, however, decided to stick around for a few minutes and give me a piece of her mind.
Me, matter of factly, pleasantly: Hey, just so you guys know, if you wanna chill here you have to buy something.
Girl: …*side eye*
Me: Just the policy.
Exit Loitering Boy.
Girl, dawdling as she gathered her things, building suspense for what was about to happen: You know, how do you think it made me feel to be told that?
Me: It’s just the policy, that’s all.
Girl, backpack on shoulder, all packed up and ready to go: Does it make you feel good? Does it make you feel like you have some kind of authority over me to say stuff like that?
Me: It’s just a policy, I’m just doing my job, that’s it.
Girl: Who’s even here to make you enforce it? That other girl? No one’s even around.
Me: *silently shrugging, mouth slightly agape* (at a loss for words as no good way to respond to that question)
Girl: You know, you’re a bitch!
Me:
...You need to leave.
Girl, after a heavy sigh, apparently exasperated by my simple ways: What does it look like I’m doing? *gestures to backpack on shoulder*
Me, waving her out of the store: You need to leave now.
Girl, finally on her way out the door: You’re a horrible person!
Me: *resumes position at coffee roaster*
Girl: *double middle finger through window*
Me: *waves wildly without looking*
Now, I know that as a supervisor at a coffee shop, my job is cushy AF in the grand scheme of customer service work.
But sometimes. Sometimes, you guys, you are working your way through a quiet Tuesday night closing shift and someone calls you a bitch for literally no reason and you can't help but feel bothered by it.
And that is nothing.
Way weirder, crazier shit has happened to me, and way weirder, crazier shit has happened to other people at my job that is weirder and crazier than all the weird, crazy shit that has happened to me combined. I know. I've heard the stories. However, that still doesn’t mean I exactly feel #blessed every time someone calls me a bitch, either.
The thing that struck me about this encounter was the fact that it seemed like it was just gonna be another mundane part of a mundane night until it wasn't. Just following through on the enforcement of a policy I've had to enforce a bunch of other times.
That being said, enforcing those policies is my least favorite part of my job. After 5+ years of supervisory experience, I still have to pump myself up and give myself mini-pep talks in my head every single time, and this time was no different.
Faith, it's not a big deal. Chill. It really is not a big deal. Inner Faith reassures anxious, nonconfrontational Outer Faith, forever trying to steady her hands.
Some days, it feels like anything could happen. In order to feel OK with the fact that someone might resort to name-calling over a scone, you have to be able to appreciate and laugh at the bizarreness of those moments.
Maybe everyone will obey social norms and behave in a predictable, unmemorable way today.
...*Or.* Or. Maybe it's the day someone will decide it seems like it's been way too long since you've had a good berating.
Either way, at least I get some good stories out of it.
