Anyone who read my post on shopping will know that I hate bad service. I would always just moan about things, but over the last year or so, I’ve made an effort to do the only thing that would affect the store in question: not go there.
I felt very proud of myself when I first began this operation. It began around the corner in a little shop that sells everything: cigs, booze, newspapers, plant pots. The guy who runs that shop was so uninterested and miserable everytime I went in there, that I couldn’t take it anymore. So I bought my cigarettes and plant pots elsewhere. This is good, I thought, customer power!
My replacement convenience store was fine for a long time, then one day, the bottled-up rage of the woman in there came out: don’t bring your dog in here when it’s raining outside, it makes the floor all dirty! So I calculated the aprox. amount of money I would spend on cigs and other goods in there annually (around 1,500 euros) and decided to spend that cash in a different shop.
Then a bakery was rude to me when I went in there with Billy. I stopped going there.
Then another bakery was rude to me when I went in there with Billy. This one hurt, cos up until a month before that, I loved going to that bakery. The man and woman who owned it really liked Billy, and we had little chats in faltering German. They even lent me money one day when I locked myself out of my flat and didn’t have my wallet with me. Then the woman got married, moved to Turkey, and they sold the shop and another owner took over. They were fine with Billy during the transition period, but as soon as they took sole control: an abrupt, unfriendy, no dogs allowed. (And, I know, most food-selling places don’t allow dogs for hygiene reasons, but y’know, courtesy…)
The next bakery that bit the dust for me was the heavy metal bakery. The one outside of which I got beaten up. (Still not heard anything from the police about that, by the way.) I’m deflated and sad about losing this shop. Their bread is delicious. I can listen to Black Sabbath whilst buying the bread. What more could one need? Well, maybe a little support when one their regular customers gets the shit kicked out of him on their doorstep, rather than shrugs of I-don’t-wanna-get-involved.
Why am I telling you all of this? Well, as of this morning, I’m half-adding another shop to that list. It’s a coffee shop. A very nice coffee shop. I’m only half-adding it, cos I’m only not going there when one specific woman is behind the counter. Most people who make cappuccinos in this coffee-addicted world stick to the almost universally accepted recipe: one third espresso, one third steamed milk, one third frothed milk. But this woman does it without the steamed milk, so it’s just coffee and froth. Now some would say this is too an acceptable cappuccino; I’m not a fan of it, though, and it’s so rare that coffee places do it like that. This morning I asked for her to add extra milk, as I wasn’t in the mood for an espresso with a bit of lace on top. And, oops, I think she took my request badly, and got a bit stroppy. I got stroppy back. She moodily plonked my coffee on the counter, I dropped my 2 euros on the counter and stomped out.
The problem now, of course, is I’m running out of local shops. The map above shows where I live (blue X) and the verboten stores (yellow Xs). My damn stupid decision to stop going to places that piss me off is gonna leave me hitchhiking to Munich every morning to get a bloody cup of coffee if I don’t calm down. So, I’m still gonna go to this coffee shop. I’ll just have to peek through the window everytime to make sure it’s not her who’s working.