"Hello, we are Those People Who Treat Their Orders as Interrogations."

I'm the lady who comes in and intently surveys all of the pastries, asking about each and every one of them. "What kind of bagel is this?" "Does this cookie have nuts?" "Is this fat free?" I'm a close cousin of Those Indecisive People Who Continually Change Their Minds While in the Process of Ordering, but while those people simply can't make up their minds, I insist upon learning every minute detail about my future purchase. If the barista doesn't know whether or not an item is kosher (for non-religious reasons) or the exact date that this pastry was made or other details of this nature, I assume they're simply not equipped to work at a coffee house. I'm not about to spend my money without knowing exactly what goes into my $2 snack, regardless how much grief I have to give the staff to find out.

It's very nice to meet you.

"Hello, we are Those People Who Have Very Personal Conversations at a Very High Volume in the Quiet Coffee Shop."

I'm the woman who comes into the coffee shop with a friend or two during a low-traffic time in the afternoon, when there are only a few regulars reading or working on their laptops in the relative silence. My friends and I carry on, chatting very noisily, which is slightly annoying but not a huge issue for the patrons and baristas.

Our conversation takes a dark turn, however, after we get our drinks and sit down together at a table. Still speaking at a volume loud enough to be clearly heard by everyone in the shop (even though they're not eaves-dropping and would rather not listen), I begin complaining about my personal life to my friends. I talk freely about my ex-husband/ex-boyfriend and how much of a jerk he is, naming names and spilling details about things he has done, causing great discomfort to everyone who can't help but hear the stories. I go on with personal tales about my family, my co-workers, my dating life, and so on, even though the stories are at best awkward and at worst completely inappropriate for public discussion. My friends don't stop me, but rather encourage my loud and very revealing diatribe.

Once we finally leave, a collective sigh of relief can be heard from everyone in the shop who has just received an uninvited glimpse into the depths of my personal life.

It's very nice to meet you.

why?

These introductions began on my personal Xanga during a summer in which I worked as a barista at an independent coffee shop.

I enjoyed working at a coffee shop. I enjoyed the casual and inviting atmosphere. I enjoyed learning to make drinks and discovering the just right combinations of flavors for a particular mood. I enjoyed getting to know the people who came in around the same time every day, who ordered the same drink every time, who sat down to talk about their lives and listen to my stories and the stories of my co-workers.

However, in the midst of many wonderful customers who were considerate, respectful, and gracious, a number of people who come in and say, "Hello, We are Those People..."

These posts began as a way of venting. I could not believe the arrogance of these inconsiderate people. How dare they come in and abuse the sacred trust between barista and coffee shop customer! I know that many people who work in various service industries have to encounter variations on Those People every day. These posts are a way for us to share in our frustrations, and to keep our sanity intact by seeing that no, we are not the only ones who suffer.

However, my relationship with coffee houses has changed, as I now no longer work as a barista, but frequent various coffee shops to work on papers and study as I pursue my graduate degree. On more than I occasion, I have placed my order, sat down with my drink, and then realized that I had just been one of Those People. In my moments of selfishness, I am no better than any of the customers I disdained as a barista. I too can approach the counter and say, "It's very nice to meet you."

So, the purpose of this blog has become twofold. On one hand, it is a way for the service employees to find solace in the communal experience of the strange little things which can make a work day arduous. On the other hand, it is a reminder to myself that when I remain content in my egoistic worldview, it can drive the people whom I encounter throughout the day crazy.

So, as you read these Coffee Shop Introductions, let it remind you of this reality: The person on the other side of the counter is a real human being who deserves your consideration.

And this is true whether you're the customer or the barista.

"Hello, we are Those People Who Care Entirely Too Much About the Temperature of Their Drinks."

I'm the man who comes in and orders a latte "steamed to 180°." When I get my drink, I take a sip and I'm shocked to find that it's only 175°. I'm baffled at the incompetence of the barista, and demand that I get a new drink five degrees warmer and a full refund.

Or I'm the woman who, when she receives her beverage, instantly expresses shock at how warm the steaming hot freshly brewed coffee in a thermal cup is, and begin loudly complaining about how "it's burning my fingers" and force the drink back into the surprised barista's hand. I demand the drink be multi-layered in two or three cups instead of one, and I also demand a full refund.

Either way, it's very nice to meet you.