It was a Tuesday morning, a day that I like very much. Tuesdays are quiet at the ‘Morning Star’ coffee shop. I go there to drink my coffee and read my book. My book is about a small dog who learns to fly, and it is very fun. I like to sit by the big window where I can see the street and also watch people inside the shop.
The coffee shop was not full. Only a few tables had people. An old man was reading a newspaper, his glasses low on his nose. Two young women were talking very soft, drinking big iced coffees. I had my hot latte, a little too much milk, but good. I like to watch the steam go up from the cup.
Then, the door opened, and a lady came in. She was young, maybe 20 years old, maybe 22. She had long, very bright yellow hair, like corn silk. Her clothes were very tight. A pink shirt that looked like it wanted to pop open, and blue pants that were also very tight. She was not a small lady. Her body was a little big, round in some places. But she walked like she was a very famous movie star, like everyone should look at her.
She had a small bag with glitter, and a phone that was very shiny. She put the phone to her ear even before she was fully inside. “No, no, I am here now! It is fine!” she said very loud. Her voice was not soft. It was like a bell that was broken. She walked straight to the counter, not looking at the short line of two people. She just stood there, waiting. The people in line looked at each other. They did not say anything, but their eyes said, “Did she just cut the line?”
I thought, “Oh, this is not a quiet Tuesday anymore.”
The barista, a young man with kind eyes and a name tag that said ‘Leo’, finished with the customer before her. He smiled a little, a very tired smile. “Next, please,” he said. The lady in the pink shirt did not move. She just stared at him. Leo looked at the people in the line, then back at her. “Ma’am, the line is over there,” he said, pointing with his chin.
The lady put her hand on her hip. “Excuse me?” she said, very loud again. “Do you know who I am?”
Leo blinked. “No, ma’am, I don’t think I do.”
She laughed, a short, loud sound. “I am a very important influencer! My pictures get thousands of likes! I come here all the time! You should know me! I buy a coffee here every week!” She did not sound like someone who came every week. She sounded like she was telling a big secret.
Leo’s tired smile did not change. “Okay, ma’am. What can I get for you?”
She puffed out her chest. “Finally! I want a Venti, oat milk, extra hot, no foam latte. And put some caramel drizzle, like, five lines. And vanilla syrup. Oh, and a little bit of cinnamon. And two shots of espresso. And a pump of white chocolate. And make it iced. No, hot. Wait, iced. Yes, iced!” She looked at her phone again. “Oh, and a bagel, toasted, with cream cheese. Make sure it’s the strawberry kind.”
Leo was writing all this down. His hand moved very fast. “Okay, that will be $9.75, ma’am.”
The lady’s face changed. Her eyes got big. “What? Nine dollars? For my coffee? That is too much!”
Leo looked at his screen. “Ma’am, you asked for many additions. The oat milk, the extra shots, all the syrups, they cost extra.”
“But I am an influencer!” she shouted. Now everyone was looking. The old man looked over his newspaper. The two young women stopped talking and stared. “I show your shop on my social media! People see me here! You should give me my coffee for free! It is good advertising for you!”
Leo sighed, but it was a small sigh, like a quiet wind. “Ma’am, we do not give free drinks for advertising. That is not our policy.”
“Your policy is stupid!” she yelled. Her voice was even louder now. It bounced off the walls. “I am beautiful! People want to see me! I am bringing you customers! This should be free! My followers will know about this! They will tell everyone not to come here!” She slammed her phone down on the counter. It made a loud plastic sound.
One of the young women from the other table coughed. It was a loud cough, like she was trying to get attention. The lady with the yellow hair turned her head fast. “What are you looking at?” she snapped. “Mind your own business!”
Leo said, “Ma’am, please calm down. If you would like to pay for your drink, I can make it for you.”
“No! I am not paying! This is an outrage! You are disrespecting me! I deserve this coffee! I deserve everything for free because I am me!” She pointed a finger at Leo. “Get me your manager! Now! Or I will call the police! They will know what to do!”
Leo put his hands up a little, like he was surrendering. “Okay, ma’am. I will get the manager.” He walked to the back, his head down. The lady stood there, breathing heavy, looking around like she had won a big fight.
I tried to hide behind my book. My flying dog was not as interesting as this lady. My coffee was getting cold. I did not want to be seen, but I also could not stop looking.
A few moments later, a man came from the back. He was older, with a kind face and a ‘Manager’ name tag. He walked straight to the counter. “Ma’am, I understand there’s a problem?” he said, very calm and slow.
“A problem? This man tried to make me pay for my coffee! My FREE coffee! I am a huge influencer, and he wanted me to pay! This is terrible service! He should be fired! You should give me my drink and a gift card for my trouble!” She was almost screaming now. Her face was red, like a tomato.
The manager listened. He did not say anything until she finished. “Ma’am,” he began, very softly. “I understand you are upset. But our policy is that all drinks must be paid for. We do not offer free items for social media promotion. We are a small business.”
“SMALL BUSINESS?” she shrieked. It was a very high sound, like a bird in pain. “I will make sure your business is even SMALLER! I will post about this! I will tell all my followers that you are rude and mean and you hate beautiful people! I will make sure no one comes here ever again!” She grabbed her phone and started typing very fast, her fingers flying over the screen. “See! I am doing it now! ‘Terrible service at Morning Star! They discriminate against influencers!'”
The manager’s face became a little bit harder, not so kind. “Ma’am, if you continue to make a scene and disrupt our other customers, I will have to ask you to leave.”
“LEAVE? I am not leaving! You owe me a coffee! And an apology! And maybe a free pastry! And you owe me for my time! This is wasting my time!” She was shaking her head, her yellow hair flying around. She hit her hand on the counter very hard. Bang! Bang!
Suddenly, the music in the coffee shop seemed to get louder, or maybe it was just the ringing in my ears. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. It was the coffee shop’s text message. My order was ready for pickup. My name was ‘Leo’s customer’. I forgot I ordered another small coffee to take home. It said, “Your order is ready at the pickup counter.”
The pickup counter was right next to the yelling lady. I really did not want to get up. But my name was on the screen. The manager was still talking, trying to be calm. The lady was still yelling, a long stream of angry words. My eyes darted from the angry lady to the pickup counter, then back.
I heard the manager say, “Ma’am, I am asking you one last time to either pay for your order or please leave.”
She screamed back something very long and very angry, with many bad words. I decided I had to go. I stood up slowly. My legs felt like jelly. I walked past the young women, who were now pretending to be very interested in their phones. I had to pass behind the yelling lady to get my coffee. As I reached for my cup, the lady was shouting very close to my ear. I think she called the manager a very bad name. I quickly grabbed my coffee and turned to leave.
As I walked out of the door, I could still hear her very loud voice. It was like a siren going off. But I could not see what happened. My back was to the door. I just heard the sound get smaller as I walked away. I did not know if she got her free coffee, or if the police came, or if the manager made her leave. I just walked, holding my hot coffee, happy to be in the quiet street again. It was a very un-Tuesday-like Tuesday morning.
