It was my first week on the job, and, really, my first shift without a supervisor over my shoulder, guiding my every move. I was still getting used to finding the buttons on the screen and was moving a little slow. I look up to help the next customer, and this is what I hear:
"I'd like a large mocha, with caramel drizzle on the bottom, skim milk, two shots of espresso, extra hot, steamed to 180, stirred, with a thin tight layer of whip on top to hold all of the extra shavings you are going to put on it, with the lid on the side."
As I'm sure you can imagine, at this point I was still stuck on the word "drizzle" and when I asked him to repeat his order, he looked at me the same way that a Mensa member might look at the village idiot. He then rolled his eyes, gave an overly-dramatic deep sigh, repeated his order, and then walked away so that he could go pick up his drink. I still didn't get the order...but luckily the person making the drink was familiar with this guy and didn't need me to enter every little detail...otherwise, we all would have been there for a very long time.
Ha!
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