Caffè latte Loco

During one of my first weeks of work at the coffee shop, I had my first, and last big tip. I was pretty nervous working a new job since I hadn't really worked in a public setting in a long time and it probably showed. Maybe I looked a little unhappy.

I was sitting on a leather bench that ran the length of the wall having a break. A large and rather talkative black woman with giant locks of hair sat across the room from me drinking a coffee I had made her.

"Come here, darlin'!" she said.

That's not a common request. Usually people just want to know where the sugar is, or they want a napkin.

"Sorry?" I said.

She repeated herself, and so with my fellow employees watching I sheepishly stood up and walked over to her, unsure of what to expect. She started to reach in between her enormous breasts as if she was going to pull one out as a gift, and I stood ready to accept, as it would be impolite to refuse. Rather than a giant nipple popping out to greet me, however, came a 5 pound note that had just moments before been neatly tucked into her cleavage. She handed it to me and said, "I want you to have this. You deserve it."

"Oh no, that's too much!" I said, looking confused.

"Take it, baby."

So I took it.

Every once and a while after that I'd get a one pound tip and I'd be thankful, but never again did I receive a 5 pound cleavage bill as a form of thank you. Not even a regular 5 pound note. I don't think I ever will.

Interacting with people in such a busy place meant there was always something interesting that could happen at any given moment. Most of the time, they weren't good things, though. For example, on a different day I was, again, sitting down taking a break (this does not reflect upon my work ethic) when a skinny Sarah Connor-lookin' woman ran past me towards the bathrooms. It took me a second to realize that she had 3 butcher's knives in her hands that had passed inches in front of my face. I looked up at one of the owners as if to ask, did you just see that? I stood up, thinking maybe she was going to hurt herself and we should do something, but then she stuck her head out of the bathroom and began screaming about how her boyfriend was just shot and how they were going to kill her too, "But don't call the police!" She popped her head back in. This went on for some time. I remember nervously pacing the floor when a woman approached me and kindly asked if she could use the bathroom. I kindly told her that a woman had just run into the bathroom with a set of very sharp knives and that maybe now would not be the best time. "I think I'll go somewhere else then," she replied.

My landlord/boss decided that he'd let her be, because "If you do something for one of them [lunatic or drug addict], they will do anything for you!" he laughed. Which sounded psychopathically messed up: he literally meant it as in, if you help out a desperate person who can use them later. He was the type of two faced, narcissistic person that would do anything to have anyone like him for that very reason, so it wasn't surprising. Me, I went and found a cop car, but by then she'd run off.

Crazy is crazy, but crazy with a knife or three changes things. Only weeks before, a woman in London had randomly ran into a shop, grabbed a knife and stabbed two random people, so I think I had reason to be concerned.

Then there were the crackheads who demanded chicken sandwiches and tea "Not too hot! I'm a crackhead, you know!" as if I was supposed to know what that meant in terms of hot tea. All free, of course. I gave it to them, until the day one of them kissed me for a pizza. Kind of threw me off the whole charity thing.

And finally you get your 7 foot tall giants showing buttcrack who politely order their lattes, sit down, and begin talking to themselves, making you and the rest of the staff (my poor wife) incredibly uncomfortable ("American? Yeah well fuck off back to where you came from. That panini looks good. Yeah, it does. I do like New York, though."). Between him and the guy that came in and demanded 5 pounds, sat down and started talking into his mobile phone as loudly as possible to no one, there could have been an actual conversation going. Organize your days, guys.

Worse than any of that though, was the woman who requested a "Babycino". I don't know who invented that word, but it instantly made me understand some of the random knifings going on in the world.

So let's all give thanks that I do not have to put up with requests for that or anything else any more. So long, Loughborough Junction. Stay classy.