This morning was the absolute craziest, busiest morning I have worked in the three years I’ve been at the coffeeshop. This was due exclusively to the storms knocking out power all over town last night, including our Broad Ripple store and the Starbucks down the street. Everyone and their brother, their sister, their mom, their dad, their cousins, their best friend, and anyone they happened to pass on the way in came by for some coffee, bagels, and pastries.
From about quarter after six until eleven this morning, I didn’t stop moving. I didn’t even get a chance to go to the bathroom or just sit down for a minute. We literally did three times the business we do on a usual Saturday morning. In fact, the owner — who, thankfully, came by and ended up helping out for over an hour — said we’d done more by 10am than we usually do for an entire Saturday. For the most part, everyone understood they were all in the same boat and waited patiently. There were a few assholes who had to make their displeasure at this tremendous inconvenience known. But whatever. There’s always one.
I felt like I’d been beaten up or run over when I got home around noon. I don’t think we panned muffins before I left and I don’t really care. Let someone who’s had a good night’s sleep do that crap. It didn’t help that I didn’t get much sleep last night. The lightning, thunder, and tornado sirens kept me up most of the night. I also painted another wall in the dining area yesterday, so I was still kind of sore.
When I got to the store, nothing was working. The power had gone out so the registers were shut down and it took me fifteen minutes to figure out how the hell to turn them back on — a task that was unreasonably complicated, in my opinion. The coffee brewer took forever to heat up. At about six I was contemplating whether or not I should actually open the store when a man drove up, hurried out of his car, and pressed his face against the door. I walked over and unlocked it, telling him that nothing was working. “I just need a large coffee! Don’t you have coffee?” He barked at me. I explained again that the coffee wasn’t done brewing and I couldn’t get into the registers. He brushed past me into the store, saying he would wait, but was “in a hurry.”
I was already disoriented from lack of sleep, the medication I’m on, and the problems getting things up and running, so I wasn’t as irritated as I would have been on any other morning. I was just trying to figure out how the hell I was going to get everything running.
The guy was standing at the register, tapping his foot, checking his watch, and had the nerve to ask why we didn’t have any muffins or scones. So I poured him a cup of coffee, only about a quarter of the way full, and fill the rest up with hot water when he wasn’t looking. When we brew a fresh batch, you have to finish before pouring a cup or else you get a.) brown water or b.) black sludge. He got mostly water anyway.
I turned around and gave him the cup, smiling, and he waved a five in my face. I reiterated the fact that we didn’t have power to the registers yet, but that he’d been so nice and patient, I was sure he was also honest and would come back later in the day to pay us for the coffee.
He must have known I was being sarcastic, despite how sweetly I said it, because he just took the cup and left.