The Mad Pooper...

So this post is a little late. I was feeling a bit lazy yesterday. It's also hard trying to come up with new crap to talk about every single day, no pun intended. This is turning out to be a LOT harder than I originally thought it would be. Now that I've confessed my potential failure at this whole thing let's get the show on the road.

Today I will be covering an incident that occurred about 2 years ago, sometime in 2007. The Bedford store that we unfortunately had to be associated with had a few differences from our quaint little shop. One of these key differences is the setup of the men's restroom. While our men's restroom is generally well kept and has a somewhat hospitable feel to it, the Bedford men's room borders somewhere between disgusting and putrid. Dungeons back during the middle ages were more inviting than this bathroom and they were little more than a hole in the ground. Does that tell you anything about the appearance of that cesspool...err bathroom? The men's room out at Bedford also has a urinal. This is something that Wickliffe doesn't have and after this particular day I couldn't have been happier about that.

So on this particular morning I get a call from Tony. He was running the Bedford store every morning and it was normal to call back and forth a few times every day to hear what was going on between Bedford and Wickliffe. However he seemed a little more irritable than normal. There was a simple explanation, an explanation that I couldn't help but laugh my ass off at. Here is the exchange.

Brian: "Hey Tony. What's up?"
Tony: "Uhhh it's been one hell of a morning and I'm not too happy about it."
Brian: "Why's that?"
Tony: "So one of the Bedford cops went to go to the bathroom this morning. He comes back like two seconds later and tells me that there is a bit of a problem in the bathroom. I was thinking that maybe the toilet had overflowed or something but no... I went in the bathroom and what do you think I found?"
Brian: "Umm do I even want to know?"
Tony: "Someone decided to take a shit in the urinal."
Brian: "What? No way..."
Tony: "Ya...someone decided to go in the bathroom and leave a big heaping pile of shit in the urinal which... I then had to go and clean up. Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean shit out of a urinal? It was disgusting."
Brian: "BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Seriously? Oh that's great! Sucks to be you dude."
Tony: "Shut up..."

This is the point where we have to take a better look at this entire scenario. Someone was so disgruntled that they felt it necessary to press their ass cheeks up up to a urinal. A urinal is essentially a wall mounted, ceramic petrie dish. The amount of disease and filth that must accumulate on those things has to be above one's level of comprehension. Sure Tony was inconvenienced by the Mad Pooper but think about the diseases that he must have contracted in the process. Also, who in their right mind gets so pissed off at someone or someplace that they think to themselves "I got it! I'll poop in the urinal." By no means would any sane person think this is a good idea. This just goes to show that the people that come into Wickliffe and apparently Bedford... ARE FUCKING INSANE! Why I never felt the need to arm myself before going into work I may never know. Apparently I had some sort of false sense of security or I just was never afraid of being shit on, at lest in the literal sense

Oh! and the Mad Pooper struck again about a month after. He was never brought to justice and apparently...still at large and pooping his way across Cuyahoga county.

Size Does Matter...

So as if Starbucks hasn't done enough to make life a living hell for every non-Starbucks barista in the world, what with all of their fancy ass drinks and flavors and what not, there's still one thing they've done that really continues to chap my ass...there god damned sizes. Why did they have to go and complicate such a simple concept. Why couldn't they just leave well enough alone and be like everyone else in the world and stick with small, medium, and large? I don't buy Venti pants do I? NO! Now before I go any further I realize this is a topic that has been addressed by a lot of different people in a wide variety of media. However! I have yet to actually hear another barista come out and say this crap is straight messed up and how much it really pisses them off, so I'm gonna be that guy. Where to begin?

First off, Starbucks has decided that they need to make their coffee unique, as if its burnt after taste wasn't unique enough. Seriously they need to exercise Satan out of their coffee roasters. It all tastes burnt. Anyways, in order to make the Starbucks experience unique they created these gimmicky names for their sizes. Tall is small, Grande is medium. Venti is large. Friggin' sign language is simpler to understand. These sizes have become the bane of every baristas existence. Why the hell do people assume that every coffee shop on the face of the earth is a Starbucks? Does Arabica translate to Starbucks in some dialect of idiot English I've never heard? To make matters worse, and believe me it gets worse than simply asking for a Starbucks size, the number of people who don't know the Starbucks sizes when they order them is mind boggling. That last sentence probably seems confusing. Why would I say they order a Starbucks size when they don't know the sizes in the first place...EXACTLY! It's all an attempt to sound trendy. Allow me to provide you an example of the typical exchange.

A person who thinks they are about to wow me with their superior coffee knowledge walks into the store. Let's call him or her Capt. Starbucks.

Annoyed Barista: "Hello."
Capt. Starbucks: "Hi, i want to get a tall coffee with..."

I failed to complete the sentence because whatever the person said after tall coffee is a complete blank, as a matter of fact its irrelevant. It's as if what was said really wasn't said at all. It's true no matter who is waiting on you. As soon as a Starbucks term comes into play we stop listening to anything you have to say and start fantasizing about how we are going to blast you for using the particular Starbucks term. It's like time stops momentarily and we enter a parallel universe. We also prepare to play stupid, and I mean ride the short bus to school stupid. We know the sizes. We know their drinks. We want to see if YOU know what you're ordering. This is how it continues...

Annoyed Barista: "Small, Medium, or Large?"
Capt. Starbucks: "Oh! A large of course."
Annoyed Barista: ".... Alright then... what was all of that again?"
Capt. Starbucks: "A large coffee with room for cream and three splendas...Oh and make it a Halfcaf."
Annoyed Barista: "Ugh..."

Yup, the person who tried to order a small coffee in Starbucks terminology ended up purchasing a large coffee when presented sizes in normal English. Even in a confident manner to boot. This happens ALL THE TIME!!! On what level does that make any sense? Did this person just change their mind at the last second? Did this person not actually know what size they were ordering? Is this proof that nothing about Starbucks' size system makes any sense in the grand scheme of things? So many questions with so many possible answers. Alright, well I think I'm gonna ponder the answers to these questions by climbing into my venti bed and curling up for a tall nap...damn it!

The Ryko Method of Managing Money: Part 1

So I decided that since I have so much material to draw from I might as well find creative ways of using it. I mean after a while this could get a little boring. Me spewing. You reading. It ultimately could end up getting kind of boring. With that in mind, I've decided to start an educational series to help my loyal readers. If I can give something back then this truly will have been a worthwhile project.

Given the state of the economy right now I figured why not teach all of you how to use your money in a responsible way...by teaching you what happens, and what others think, when you're irresponsible with it and spending it on worthless things, like stocks. Without further adieu I present to you part one of a continuous series. The Ryko Method of Managing Money.

Before I get into this though let me just say this is not necessarily a negative reflection on my former employer. He was a nice guy who just didn't spend money the right way. Actually that seemed to be a trend throughout my time as a barista. And yes Ryko was his real name, I couldn't possibly make that up, but I reiterate...this is in no way meant to be a negative reflection on him.

Ok, now that I'm down covering my ass let's begin. Ryko was the owner that decided to go with the soccer themed coffee shop. I honestly believe that's all the setup this is going to need. Anyways...

In Ryko's first month the lunch prep table decided to go on strike and stop working. In order to remedy the problem Ryko called Ohio Refrigeration to come check it out. It was quite unlike Ryko to stay past 3 p.m. so he asked for a quote over the phone based on the problem and the service charge. The guy on the other end told Ryko that the bill shouldn't come to more than $200. Begrudgingly Ryko gave the go ahead to have them come out and fix the prep table. Like I said Ryko didn't like to stay past 3 p.m. soooooo... he wrote out a check for $200 and left it with Tony, our boss at the time. Low and behold the repair and service charge total in full came to a grand total of$110. For those of you that may struggle at simple math that is $90 less than $200. I think you all see where this is headed.

A check for $200...a bill for $110... Let that sink in and marinate for a minute.

Yup... The repair man had to adjust his service time, take into account mileage for the drive over, TIMES 2, and recalculate parts and materials. I'm pretty sure the guy might have sat down and had himself an iced, halfcaf, soy, 2 pump vanilla, no foam, latte...with whipped cream and caramel on top. The new grand total came to $199.99. Two lessons can be learned from this. 1. Don't fill out checks in advance unless you are sure of the price. 2. Apparently repair services and their prices are complete bull, they can charge whatever they want and this is proof. Ryko ended up wasting $90 extra dollars for no apparent reason. I haven't seen a move this stupid since the Disney movie "Blank Check." This is a terrifying trend that would continue throughout his time as our boss. And we wonder why we almost went bankrupt. And for the record this awesome prep table broke again within a year. Where's Ryko when we need him?

The Love Connection!

So every business has it, it being that one person that is too sickeningly nice for their own good. We're no different. Anyone that has been in anyway associated with or fine establishment knows that that individual is Caila....
...
...
Ok, you got me. Caila is totally our resident bitch and in her defense she knows this. She uses it to her advantage and quite well I might add. She has that cold as ice death stare down to a science, one leg sticking out slightly, arms crossed...you all know the one. But like I was saying, our co-worker that's always making with the nicey nice is Katie. While this may often be considered a great character trait it often comes back to bite her in the ass, which is also kind of funny if you know her.

Anyways, Katie is really REALLY nice to everyone that walks through the door. She even puts on a good face for the assholes. Well the downfall of this disgustingly sweet behavior is that for some reason it causes every psychopath in the quad-city area, Wickliffe, Willowick, Willoughby, and Euclid, to inexplicably fall in love with her. We're not talking like school yard crushes here. We're talking about standing outside in the bushes at night carving her name in body parts crazy. Now many people would think that this is a gross over exaggeration, it's not I swear...I have proof.

Case#1: Crazy Bongo Man
Crazy Bongo Man, the guy that walks around all day everyday with a random assortment of bongos and shit came in one night while Katie was working and proceeded with the following declaration of love after telling her how gorgeous he thought she was.

Bongo Man: "So how old are you?"
Katie: "17..."
Bongo Man: "Well how about this is what we're gonna do. You finish high school and when you turn 18 you and me will run away together to Europe and we'll get married and we can start having babies and then you can get a masters degree and it'll just be amazing."
Katie: "Uhhh...what?"
Bongo Man: "We're meant to be together!"

Now after all of that any normal person would respond with a get the hell out of here what the @*$% is wrong with you!?!? Not Katie. She simply laughed it off, gave Bongo Man his coffee, and proceeded to repress the memory.

Case #2: Crazy Joe
Crazy Joe is a bipolar alcoholic that likes to sit in the corner of our fine establishment wasted and smelling of piss. The guy is a train wreck. Kind of sad really. Anyways, he doesn't talk to any of us, at all, EVER! Unless he needs to use the phone which is about every 30 seconds. He does have one exception. You guessed it, Katie. One day Crazy Joe walks up to the counter and looks right at the two of us and ask:

Crazy Joe: "Guess who I saw today? You'll never believe it!"
Brian: "Who?"
Crazy Joe: "Woody Hayes!"
Brian and Katie: .........
Crazy Joe proceeds to stare at us with a smile on his face looking for some sort of sign of approval from her.
Brian: *looking at Katie* "Woody Hayes coached Ohio St. back in the day and has been dead for 20 years about..."
Katie: "Wow..."

Joe then proceeded to stand there in awkward silence for another 2 minutes. When Katie finally went to leave and go out to her car, Joe followed her all the way out. He then stood at the corner and watched as she drove past him and out of sight. I'm waiting for him to walk in one day with his ear in a box for her...or worse.

There are countless other examples, but these work the best.

So there you have it. Proof positive that sometimes it's better to be the bitch rather than the angel. I mean Caila has never had to deal with this kind of crap. Although Caila did have a customer caress her face the one day as he was walking out, so what do I really know.

I Wonder What It Feels Like to Get Shot?

So this happened quite a while ago. This regular customer named Dominic over heard me and Matt talking about how we want to bite it. He said he wanted something cool like getting mauled by a bear. I agreed and said I wanted to be eaten by a shark. I mean how bad ass would it be to go down as the guy that got mauled by a bear or a shark. Dominic chimes in with the little nugget.

Dominic: "Ya I always wanted to go out from a single gunshot wound from a jealous husband. You know like in the middle of the act."

He then proceeded to make a very creepy humping motion. Keep in mind also that Dominic is about 5'8" and lucky if he is more than 150 lbs. soaking wet. Not necessarily what the ladies might drool over.

Its at this point Matt says, "I've always wanted to know what it would feel like to be shot."
Dominic: "It burns.
Brian and Matt: "...what?"
Dominic: "Oh ya, it burns because the bullet is so hot coming out of the gun."
Brian: "And you know this how?"
Dominic: "I've been shot."
Matt: "Someone shot you?"
Dominic: "Um actually no, I shot myself."
Matt: "How the hell do you shoot yourself?"
Dominic: "Well I was showing off for my buddies. We were at the junk yard scrapping one of my race cars and we see these guys shooting holes into old cars. Well i go over and I'm like hell guys anyone can do that. So I pull out my .45 and get on the car. I'm standing over it and I'm going to blast a hole through the engine block cuz well you have to hit it just right. I've dont this before so I figured no problem. So i take aim and BAM! all of the sudden i feel this burning sensation in my side and a grab myself. Next thing I know I have blood pouring through my fingers and I'm just like 'Shit! I shot myself!' The bullet hit wrong and ricocheted back at me and went clear through my side. My jack ass buddies instead of helping me just start laughing their asses off. I ended up going to the hospital and getting stitched up. Needless to say I never tried that one again."
Brian and Matt: "...wow....holy shit that's awesome"
Dominic: "So ya...long story short, it burns."
Matt: "I'd rather get shot doing something cool, like running from the cops though. And preferably in the leg or somewhere not so serious."
Dominic: "Well I got my gun out in the car so if you want I can help you find out haha"
Matt: "Nah, I'm good."

Ya these are the types of heart warming tales customers like to tell us. How they almost killed themselves acting like idiots. Good times...

It's been taken care of...

So this blog, three days into its existence, has been hit by a MAJOR speed bump. It's a pretty significant speed bump too. I was let go. In fact, We were all let go, except Lorrie and Matt, and even Matt is only staying on in a limited capacity. However this doesn't have to be the death of this spectacular project. I have plenty of past material of which I can draw from. But why not get things going by outlining for all of you how exactly this entire thing went down. I fact it only seems fitting that given everything I've dealt with during my tenure that this is how it would happen.

So my newest boss hates me. I never did anything to her to warrant her behavior, but oh well. On Friday she showed up and the awkwardness continued, There are several kinds of awkward in this world. An attempt at a first kiss, meeting your college room mate for the first time, this level of awkward was somewhere on the scale of telling your significant other that you contracted herpes during your three day business trip in Vegas 2 weeks ago and now she probably has it too. Ya this was awkward. No hello how are you, no eye contact, quick one word answers to questions. Hell before I left on Friday I even asked her if there was anything else she needed before I left or if she had anything else to tell me. She replied "No..." Lying, piece of... ugh!

After I left on Friday I get the following text message from Matt: "I don't know what's going on here, but they're chagng all of the locks on the doors." I tell him to find out what is going on for Saturday morning because I was supposed to be working. The response: "They said 'It's been taken care of' whatever that means." A lot of other really awkward things happened on Friday also. They asked Lorrie if she ever did or would want to work weekends, they asked Matt to extend his availability. Looking back on it these were precursors to what was ultimately to come.

Now...I am a 25 year old in the prime of my life. I am not answering my phone on a Friday night. I'm busy for Christ's sake and she knew this. At 11 PM I check my phone and see I have a voice mail from a 330 area code. I knew what the message was gonna say before I listened to it, or at least I thought I did. My new boss was on my voice mail telling me that they can't keep the doors open financially the way we have it now and that it would be a drive thru only until they could figure things out. The only people remaining would be Lorrie and Matt and the rest of us were being let go. She also laced this message with "I really wanted to speak to you and I really wish you would have answered." BULL CRAP! I then proceeded to start throwing out texts and phone calls left and right letting everyone know what happened.

So there you have it. After working at that place for 7 years for a variety of owners and putting up with so much crap, that's how it went down. Via voice mail on a Friday night. I have to admit though, it was a good run. I met some great people along the way and have made a really great group of friends thanks to that place. So it's not all bad. With that in mind this blog will keep going. I will try to update as much as I can and keep new stories coming as often as possible. Stay tuned...

Jesus Turned Bread Into... Perfect Toast?

So, third day into this little project of mine and already I've run into the problem of not having anything to write about. Nothing happened today that was so outrageously eventful that it warrants me spending my time, or yours, explaining. The last thing I want to be blamed for is wasting ten minutes of your life that you'll never get back. I mean if you have somehow stumbled on this under advertised, under promoted, waste of space blog then you obviously have tons of things on your plate. I understand. Now go back to curing cancer and solving world hunger. That's what I thought. I kid, I kid. Now that I've gotten rid of all the over achievers it's time to get down to business. I mean that's what your all here for.

So this happened last Friday. I figured it's Friday, this story happened on a Friday, close enough. So there's a pretty regular group that comes in each and every day. Really fun group of people. I am able to comfortably joke around with these people and vice versa and feelings aren't ever hurt. So as it turns out on this particular day there was a new addition to the group. He was a pretty funny guy. 2 hours later when the last of the stragglers was getting ready to leave Josephine, the ring leader so to speak tells me:

"HEY! Be nice to this guy. He's like the son I never had you hear me?"

To which I responded of course not a problem. I immediately looked at him and ask "What contest did you lose to get her as a surrogate mother." I thought I had the ultimate burn. Josephine and everyone laughed. Good times. Then he tells me, rather shouts to me from across the room:

Guy: "Ya but see the thing is, my real mom is a Born Again Christian. Have you ever hung out with one of them?"
Brian: "No, not exactly. but I've seen specials on TV and stuff. Those people are whack jobs."
Guy: "O ya! She'll makes toast and is like (in as feminine a voice as possible, mannerisms and all), 'Oh my toast came out just perfect! Thank you Jesus Thank you for this bountiful feast of perfect toast.' And it's like Ma...Jesus had nothing to do with that shit! I think it has more to do with the fact you bought a brand new fuckin' toaster! She drives me fuckin' insane with that shit!"

Keep in mind he was shouting this all across a store full of people...curse words and all.

IT WAS SPECTACULAR! I've never laughed harder. Of course we probably lost a few customers thanks to it, but who cares. The spontaneous nature of it was priceless. It was almost as if this had been building for some time and he finally let out his frustrations. With that in mind I need to go find an old priest and a young priest and have them try to exorcise Satan out of my toaster. I can't remember the last time I didn't end up with burnt toast. That firey bastard. Where's my holy water?

O2...OH NO!

I did not have the pleasure of working today, somehow some way i managed to get one of these things people like to call a day off. I don't know what to do with myself. Anyways, this happened to Matt yesterday afternoon, 2/4/09, probably around 2 o'clock.

This elderly old woman named Charlotte comes in pretty much on a daily basis. She's a wonderfully nice woman, but also doubles as a walking anti-smoking campaign. She is the person the tobacco companies don't want you to know about. 60 years old looking like she's going on 100, emphysema, extra phlegmy voice. How anyone can look at her and not think "I need to quit before I turn into that!" I will never know. But like I said she is a genuinely nice woman.

Anyways, around 2 pm Matt gets a phone call on the store phone, keep that in mind. This is the transaction that takes place.

Matt: Hello Arabica Wickliffe.
Charlotte: Hi is Brian there?
Matt: No he left for the day.
Charlotte: Oh..is this Matt?
Matt: Yes it is.
Charlotte: Oh...are you at the store?
Matt: *dumbfounded by the question because she called the store* Uhhhh ya...
Charlotte: Oh good. I was wondering if you could help hook up my oxygen tank when I get there.
Matt: Uhhhhhh....ya, or one of the customers can help you i guess.
Charlotte: Thanks

It is at this point that Matt understands what he has done. He has made himself responsible for making sure that someone who is unable to breathe oxygen naturally out of the air has an oxygen tank hooked up and running properly...no pressure. Also, why on Earth would you call someone you hardly know and ask them a favor like that? Who does that? "Hey person I don't know all that well, help assure me that I can breathe." WHO DOES THAT!?!?

Charlotte arrived at the store around 2:30. Matt was able to talk a customer into helping her, thus passing on the responsibility...and all liability...on to someone else. As he watches this whole thing unfold he overheard the following.

Charlotte: Thank you so much
Customer: No problem, it wasn't that complicated.
Charlotte: Well wait a minute, are you sure this thing is even on I can't even feel anything.
Customer: Ya I'm sure it's on.
Charlotte: Oh...well I'm just saying I don't....Ohhhhhh....Now I can feel it.
Charlotte then proceeds to go into an over oxygenated high

5 Minutes later...

Charlotte: Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyy....Can I smoke with this thing on?
Matt: NO!

So there you have it. Nothing like smoking while wearing an oxygen mask. I mean pure oxygen and an open flame goes oh so well together. We are now placing bets on whether or not she will blow herself up, OR if she will blow up the store. God I hope I'm there when it happens. Stay tuned...

The story so far...

Welcome to the No Name Cafe! This site is dedicated to telling the tales of a certain legendary coffee shop located in tiny Wickliffe, Ohio. There doesn't seem to be any point in naming the name of this coffee shop in particular, at least not right now. Ah screw it. Why leave you all in suspense? The actual name of the No Name Cafe is Arabica Coffee House. But why do I insist on calling it the no name cafe? For starters I needed something catchy to name this blog and that's what popped into my head. Second it just seems to fit...allow me to explain. In its 7 plus years of existence it has undergone so many ownership and name changes that one could say it has quite the identity crisis. If this business were a living, breathing, human being it would be locked up in a fucking loony bin along with all the other whack jobs in this world. During this time it has gone from Arabica Coffee House, to Arabica/Buffet Style Pizza, to Arabica again, to Futbol "punch me in the face for working there" Cafe, and finally back to Arabica Coffee House. To add to the confusion, this coffee shop doesn't even have its own sign. At one point in time it did. It would glow bright red at night letting everyone know that the local "Arab Coffee Ho" was open for business. While many variations of the light up lettering occurred this has always been the most humorous. Until one day the sign was taken down in favor of a new sign...check that...a new...banner? yup a banner. Nothing says class like a plastic banner flapping in the breeze.

Owner #4, as we we will call him for right now, was too lazy and misguided to go the entire distance when it came to a sign. Instead, he bolted a plastic banner to the front of the store. Not only was this the world's worst downgrade, it only further emphasized the point that owner #4 didn't have a fucking clue what he was doing. I mean who wouldn't be attracted to a European, Soccer themed cafe in the heart of Midwest America...a place known for its allegiance to Ohio State and Cleveland Browns football, still can't get over the drive, the fumble, the shot, or Jose Mesa's blown game 7 of the 97 world series, and it's general disdain for anything non American or soccer related...yup a soccer coffee house. Couldn't possibly fail. Well, surprise surprise...it failed...miserably. This led way to the newest owners of this enchanted wonderland of coffee.

On a cold miserable day I was given the task of slaying the hideous yellow and maroon beast from the side of the building. I was also promised that a new sign would follow shortly thereafter. LIES! After cutting our sign...errr...banner down, in the snow and cold mind you, the front has remained naked for the past 3 months. We truly resemble the climate of Cleveland in 2009, a dilapidated piece of shit building that looks empty 98% of the time. All that's missing is some cool graffiti on the side. Also bear in mind the newest owners...err suckers to purchase this dream, place the blame for the lack of sales on me and my crew, as if we are the ones who haven't put up some type of sign saying "HEY! Here we are! Give us your money!" There's also a recession going on, probably doesn't help things much either. Now, most of you may be wondering, "why not put the old sign back up?" There is a simple answer to that, our fearless leader during the Futbol Cafe era left the sign sitting out outside behind the store. Long story short...someone ganked that mofo. Who steals a large 500+ pound sign? I have no idea. I blame the kids of today. But regardless that is the current state of things. We are a failing coffee shop, in a failing economy, with no sign and therefore no name to those on the outside world.

What can you expect from this blog exactly? Each and everyday I work it is almost assured that something unreasonably stupid, retarded and or absurd is going to happen. I plan on documenting these occurrences daily in as humorous a way as possible. Some will involve me, others will involve my co-workers. I have been saying for years that the outside world needs to hear what goes on behind the scenes...and unfortunately at the counter. On slow days I'll tap into the vault and pull out classic stories from over the years. I assure you that nothing that happens will be fabricated. This is all 100% true...and that's the fucking scariest part of all.