After going to the gym I usually pop into the pesticle Starbucks for a skinny latte and some ginger biscuits (probably therefore negating all the work I have just done by replacing the lost calories). Starbucks coffee is adequate, but I go there for the ginger biscuits. If any other chain or individual coffee shop had ginger biscuits I would go there. But they don't.
It was late afternoon when I finished in the gym today and Starbucks wasn't too busy. I wasn't paying too much attention as I entered, but I thought that there was only one man in front of me in the queue. As I took my place and turned to face the counter there were suddenly two men in front of me in the queue. The one I hadn't noticed (or who hadn't been there seconds previously) was standing suspiciously a little too far back as if he'd just come into the shop and then pushed in as my back was turned and I was distracted by a banana muffin (which I didn't buy. It's OK to look).
However, I couldn't be totally sure that he hadn't been there before, so I couldn't accuse him of pushing in. He looked shifty. I decided I didn't care enough to make a fuss about something that I might have been wrong about anyway and let it slide. I coudl wait an extra 50 seconds or so.
The man was skinny and pale, around about 45 years old. I got the impression that he always looked shifty. He was one of those blokes who is a but hyper and shakes almost imperceptibly. Not through any kind of disease, just because he is nervous or impatient or tense. If it mattered to him that much that he got his drink before me then that was OK.
I picked up my prized ginger biscuits. I was looking forward to dunking them in my coffee. I enjoy this so much that I am somehow able to daily overlook the fact that Starbucks are charging me 50 pence for two biscuits. It's the crime of the century. Don't worry to redress the balance I occasionally just steal the biscuits. Don't tell Mr Starbucks or the police. I think I'm justified. Two biscuits do not cost anywhere near 50 pence. Starbucks is still the winner here.
The pale man in front of me saw me pick up the biscuits and perhaps feeling a twinge of guilt for his (possible)queue jumping said "Is that all you're getting?" He was obviously implying that if I was just purchasing ginger biscuits then he would magnanimously let me go ahead of him in the queue. But seriously what were the chances that I had come into Starbucks just to purchase two ginger biscuits? There is a Tescos very nearby. I could have bought a whole pack of ginger biscuits for 50p.
I looked at him askance (out of both a sense that he was an idiot for asking the question and because he had stolen my position in the line - I know I have admitted that I have stolen ginger biscuits in the past, but that's different, because that is me doing it, not him) and patiently said that I was also planning to get a drink. I thought about saying, "Much as I like eating dry ginger biscuits, I think I might have a coffee too," but I didn't.
The man then demonstrated that all my instincts that he was a nut case were justified. He asked the man behind the counter for one shot of hot chocolate, with a little bit of milk and cream in the top. The assistant was confused. "You want hot chocolate?" he asked.
"No, just one shot of chocolate with milk and the whipped cream on the top."
The assistant wasn't sure about this. It was an unusual request and was ordered in a strangely aggressive manner, as if it was a normal thing to want and that only an idiot wouldn't understand what was required.
The two of them faffed around for a bit discussing what size cup would be required for such a beverage. I began to wish that I had challenged the man earlier, as I was clearly going to have to wait longer than average.
Finally it was made clear what the drink was and what kind of cup it was going to come in and the order was passed across to the drinks maker.
The pale man fidgeted with a two pound coin. He placed it on the counter, and then saw that his assistant was away from his station. Clearly the neurotic thin man did not want to risk anyone thinking that the two pound coin was not his, so he picked it up and waited for the assistant to return. Then he paid him.
The assistant rang up a price of £1.75 and handed over the change. The pale man looked at the change in his hand and then unbelieving up at the assistant. "It's normally £1.45," he barked.
"Hot chocolate is £1.75," observed the man behind the counter.
"But this isn't hot chocolate. Hot chocolate has three shots of chocolate, I am only getting one. I have always been charged £1.45 before."
I could see this wasn't going to be resolved easily. Why hadn't I made a fuss about being pushed in on?
The assistant, who I figured was new to the job (not that many people last for long in Starbucks anyway), asked one of his workmates if he was correct to charge for a whole hot chocolate. She agreed with him that he was.
The nervous and nervy man couldn't believe that life was treating him so badly. He continued to complain and then eventually asked for his money back. There was a bit more banter, but then the assistant handed over the two pound coin and took his 25pence back and the aggrieved customer stormed out the shop, muttering to himself. He wasn't going to be charged that extra 30pence for his entirely reasonable demand to have an unusual drink.
I felt that perhaps from the start the whole enterprise had been intended to have this effect. That he had come in in order to complain and make himself feel important. Or just to hold up other customers who were happy to ask for drinks that were on the menu which they were prepared to pay the requisite price for (possibly because they knew they would steal some biscuits to make it less of a rip off).
I was then forced to wait longer as the purchase of the hot chocolate was taken off the till. The new guy didn't know how to do this. So the girl helped him. Four minutes of my life were wasted. I considered pocketing the ginger biscuits in the confusion, but decided that today I would be honest.
Finally the assistant was ready to take my order, but as I was about to say what I wanted, the bloke who was making the drink shouted, "Chocolate and milk" and put a cup containing the strange man's order on the counter.
"He's gone. Just throw it away," said the assistant. I couldn't believe it. Suddenly my sympathies changed. The Starbucks man hadn't been prepared to give the man his drink for £1.45, but was now willing to have it thrown down the drain for nothing. He could have just given the mad fella his stupid drink. And saved everyone time and fuss.
My astonishment at this turn of events registered in my eyes and the bloke serving saw what I was thinking and we both laughed.
As I collected my coffee the strange chocolate concoction was sitting unclaimed on the counter. I thought about picking it up and taking it out into Hammersmith to find the man who had wanted it so badly (though not so badly that he felt it was worth £1.75).
And if he hadn't pushed in on me, I might have done.
