Ok, we were laughing not crying. Well, I was crying–but only because it hurt to laugh as hard as we did.
As you (may or may not) know, I’m a barista and I FUCKING love it. Completely tossed my degree out the window for chocolate covered happiness for the time being. No, I’m serious. I’m always covered in chocolate.
As horrible as today was, all we could do was laugh. K spilled milk every where, twice, we ran out of milk (not because K spilled it though) and I had a screaming match with our chocolate pump. And coincidentally it did scream back, or more like exploded back.
Let me explain.
For several days now, the nozzle on our chocolate jug has been spurting or not spurting at all. It doesn’t just come out like it’s comrades, Caramel, White Chocolate and Pumpkin Spice. Sugar Free Mocha doesn’t come out hardly at all, but no one uses him so no one cares what he does or does not do. No, Dark Chocolate had to rip its little rubber piece and begin to squirt his contents out like a clogged water hose. You know how it comes out two ways, and goes everywhere but where it shouldn’t? Yeah, he’s been doing that for days. But today, Dark Chocolate decided to spurt three ways then cease to spurt at all despite the fact that he had just been refilled. Dark Chocolate also has a tendency to hoard Chocolate around the top half of the jug instead of falling to the bottom like any other chocolate hug would do. I tried to blame the cold weather, but I think he just has an attitude problem.
Dirty words in Klingon were said.
So K and I replaced his pump. Mind you, we forgot the spring so there was no was no spurting for a good twenty minutes while we pondered what we forgot. But once we put the spring in, he began to spurt like normal for all of ten minutes. Yay us.
By this time I had refilled him again so naturally, being the queen of messes (among other things) I was covered in chocolate–again.
Then the mid day rush hits.
We run out of milk. I tell a manager. I get yelled to. So I run away and start giving skinny lattes to everyone. (America could stand to loose an extra pound or two, no?) I’m wearing my trusty N7 pin on my apron–I GOT THIS!
That is until K knocks over our LAST cup of fat free milk and douses my super cute grey suede boots.
This is where the laughing till we cry part happens. I wish I had a picture of K’s sad, sad face as he watched our last cup of milk spread across the tiled floor.
It’s insanely busy. We’re out of milk, I’m covered in chocolate and now fat free milk and K is wearing an inappropriate deer bow tie. (Two deers humping each other under Xmas trees. Icing on the fucking cake right there my friends.)
We switch to half n half. Who doesn’t love extra creamy Hot Chocolates?
My wet hands dive into the espresso bag in a desperate attempt to pull four shots at once. Now there are espresso grinds every where. I spill bits of hot coffee on my fingers. Run out of red sprinkles for our Unicorn Special and make all the little children cry. (Not really.)
Then a steam pitcher jumps from K’s hand, does a nose dive to the floor and douses my boots–yet again–in dairy products.
So much for vegan shoes.
We laugh more. A manager comes over to see what the commotion is about. More laughing happens as K begins to frantically mop up his spilled milk so that B can’t see the seven health code violations behind the counter. (Having spray sanitiser solution on the counter is a violation btw, but were rebels.)
We then spend the next hour sliding through the cafe, entertaining our guests as they order coffee and receive a free comedy show.
Never ever a dull moment at work these days, especially when K and I are on the same shift.
Happy Boxing Day everyone. May next year be calmer.
Jk. If my life was calm I’d be in a coma.