The mornin was startin off like most others. I was at the cafe down the street from my place, the one with the big windows that lets the light come through just right. I like to sit there and watch people go by, just take it all in before the day gets too crazy. My usual order is a black coffee, nothin fancy, just the good stuff. I can always tell if they got a fresh pot goin just by the smell when I walk in, how the dark roast kinda hangs in the air, a little smoky but also sweet. Today, it was perfect. I paid for my coffee, got my cup, and found my spot by the window.
I hadn’t been there long, just settlin in, when she walked in. A lady, maybe in her early thirties, with three small kids trailing behind her like ducklings. They looked all hot and bothered, probly cuz it was gettin warm outside even though it was still early. The kids were already bouncin off the walls, one tryin to climb on a display, another tuggin on the mom’s shirt, whinin about somethin I couldn’t make out. She just kinda ignored em, like she was used to it. I seen parents like this before, they just let their kids do whatever and don’t seem to care what other people think. It’s kinda frustratin to watch, but I just put my headphones on and tried to zone out.
But it was hard to ignore this bunch. The kids were gettin louder, not screamin or nothin, but just makin a constant high-pitched hum of noise. The youngest one, a little girl with pigtails, had this electronic toy that made a really shrill, sing-songy tune over and over. It was definately makin my head hurt a little. The mom, she finally made it to the counter. I could hear her order even with my headphones on a low volume. She wanted somethin real complicated. A fancy latte, with oat milk, extra hot, no foam, and three pumps of a special syrup. The barista, a young kid with colorful hair, wrote it all down real careful like. He repeated it back to her to make sure he got it right. She just nodded her head, kinda distracted, still tryin to wrangle one of her boys who was now tryin to stick his whole hand in the tip jar. She just pulled him back by the arm, didn’t say nothin to him, just stared at the menu again.
A few minutes went by. The kids were gettin more antsy. The little girl’s toy was still playin that annoyin tune. One of the boys was now lyin on the floor, makin groanin sounds. I just kinda shook my head, hopin they’d get their drinks and leave soon. My coffee was startin to cool down a bit. Finally, the barista called out her drink. He put it on the counter, a nice-lookin latte, looked like exactly what she asked for. She walked over, still holdin onto the boy, and picked it up. Took one sip, and then her face just kinda twisted up.
“This ain’t right!” she said, louder than she needed to.
The barista looked confused. “I made it exactly how you said, ma’am. Oat milk, extra hot, no foam, three pumps vanilla.” He even pulled the order slip closer to read it.
“No, it’s wrong!” she insisted, shakin the cup a little, sloshing some of the coffee. “It’s not sweet enough. And I said NO foam! Look! There’s a little bit of foam right here!” She pointed to the rim, where there was maybe, like, one tiny bubble. It was barely visible. She looked mad, like he’d just ruined her whole day.
The barista tried to be polite. “Ma’am, with oat milk, a little bit of natural froth can happen, even without steaming it. And for the sweetness, I used three pumps of vanilla like you asked.”
“Well, it’s still wrong! This is just not what I wanted at all. I want another one, and I ain’t payin for this one. And you know what? My kids have been waitin here forever, bein so patient.” She gestured to the two boys who were now wrestlin on the floor and the girl who had started to make a weird screeching sound with her toy. “They deserve somethin for their patience. I want two of those big chocolate chip cookies for them, free.”
I took off my headphones then. This was gettin good. Or bad, dependin on how you looked at it. The barista looked like he was about to cry. He was just a kid, probly still in high school. He looked over his shoulder, like he was hopin a manager would just magically appear and save him. No one did.
The lady kept goin. “I’m a good customer here, I come here all the time. I spend alot of money. You should just make this right.” I had never seen her here before, and I come here almost every day. My nose is also pretty good at pickin up familiar scents, and I ain’t ever smelled her perfume before, which was kinda flowery and too strong, a little bit like old potpourri. So I knew she was definately lyin about bein a “good customer.”
One of the boys, while still on the floor, managed to kick the little girl’s electronic toy. It flew across the floor, hit a table leg with a loud crack, and then went silent. The little girl’s face crumpled. She let out a wail that could curdle milk. Not just a cry, a full-on, ear-splitin, operatic wail. The kind that makes every single person in the room instantly stop what they’re doin and stare.
The lady at the counter didn’t even flinch at her daughter’s cry right away. She was too focused on her coffee. “See? Now look what happened! My daughter’s toy is broken! This is all because of the wait! If you had just made my drink right the first time, this wouldn’t have happened!” she shouted at the barista, like he was personally responsible for her kids’ clumsy habits.
At this point, I had enough. I wasn’t just annoyed anymore, I was mad. I just looked at her, then at the barista who looked like he wanted to vanish. “Some people,” I said, not too loud, but loud enough for her to hear, “just gotta make a scene for free stuff. Ain’t got no respect for nobody else.”
She snapped her head around and stared at me, eyes wide. “Excuse me? Are you talkin to me?”
I just shrugged, took a sip of my coffee. “Just makin an observation. Some people just think they’re entitled to everything. Don’t even care if their kids are makin life miserable for everyone around them.” I said, lookin directly at the broken toy and then back at her.
Her face went red. “You have no right! You don’t know anything about me!” she screamed, her voice crackin.
“Don’t need to,” I said, “Just need ears and eyes. And a nose. Can tell that coffee you got there is exactly what you asked for too, just by the smell of it.” I was definately just makin that part up, but I wanted to get under her skin, and it worked.
She sputtered, lookin from me to the barista, then back to me. The barista, bless his heart, just wanted it all to end. He quickly grabbed two cookies from the display, put them in a bag, and pushed them across the counter with a new latte he had already started makin. “Here you go, ma’am. On the house. Please, just… enjoy your day.”
She grabbed the coffee and the cookies, still shootin me daggers with her eyes. She didn’t say thank you. She just stomped off to a table in the corner, her kids still kinda whinin and snifflin, the broken toy layin there like a casualty. She sat them down and gave them the cookies, still grumblin to herself. She glared at me a few more times before she finally got her kids together and walked out, without a word.
The cafe got quiet again, except for the usual hum of conversation and the clatter of cups. The barista gave me a tired smile. I just nodded back. My coffee was completely cold now. I got up, walked over to where the broken toy was, a cheap plastic thing, its little speaker busted. I picked it up and just looked at it for a second, then dropped it in the trash can. Those poor kids. They probly just wanted a quiet mornin too.
