"Hello, we are Those People Who Seek to Educate the Baristas on the Latest Coffee-related Conspiracy Theories."

I'm the man who has done his homework on this whole coffee business thing, and has learned some secrets from Wikipedia and other internet sources that the caffeine-peddling establishment does not want the common people to know. Of course I cannot keep this knowledge to myself, so I pass it along to the baristas and anyone else in earshot when I stop by the coffee shop.

A sampling includes:
"You know, soy milk causes cancer, and lowers testosterone levels in men, which lead sto impotence."
"You know, [major coffee chain] really controls all coffee distribution in the US. It's all kickbacks and such to their powerful CEOs."
"You know, cow's milk is actually damaging to the human skeleton. Dairy farmers and such tell you that it's good for your bones, but the opposite is really true."
"You know, bagels and other bread products will kill you, the carbohydrates will block your arteries."

Aside from actually believing what I'm saying, the most remarkable thing about me is that I think I can change the minds of my audience. Surprisingly, I have yet to have a barista exclaim, "Oh my gosh, you're right! Soy is lethal!" and then tear off his apron and run out of the shop.

It's very nice to meet you.

"Hello, we are Those People Who Want the Coffee Shop to Honor Their Six-Month-Old Expired Coupons."

I'm the man who has come to the coffee shop after seeing an ad for a discounted drink in the local paper. I place my order then cheerfully hand the cashier the page, pleased that I am saving my money. However, the barista gently points out to me that the coupon expired in early February, half a year ago. I argue the point, claiming that it really isn't that long ago, and I simply missed the clearly printed expiration date in bold print at the bottom of the page. I call a manager over to plead my case, but she won't budge either, saying something about how the item was seasonal and is no longer offered, blah blah blah. I angrily storm out, vowing to never fall for that establishment's scams again.

It's very nice to meet you.

"Hello, we are Those People Who Take Over the Coffee Shop for Group Study Sessions."

We are the group of ten to fifteen students from a local university who arrive with our laptops and textbooks, loudly talking and laughing. We generally arrive just before a high-traffic time for the café, and pull together all of the chairs and tables into a massive huddle around which all must customers must step to place their orders. Out of our large group about three people actually order something.

We proceed to study for the next several hours, leading many would-be customers to walk in, survey the landscape, and leave because no more seating is available. We loudly argue using pseudo-intellectual phrases that we ourselves don't really understand, disrupting the casual conversations or quiet relaxation of everyone else in the room. Yeah, we considered going to our campus library or somebody's apartment, but those options just don't have the proper "atmosphere."

There's also a good chance we arrive about half an hour before the coffee shop closes, expecting to stay for a few hours.

It's very nice to meet you.

"Hello, we are Those People Who Attempt to Carry on Conversations with Employees During a Rush."

I'm casual friends with one of the coffee shop employees, and I come in during the midst of the morning rush and walk over to the counter to chat with my acquaintance. However, this friend of mine is busy pulling espresso shots, steaming milk, and blending ice. While I tell him stories from the day before, he simply replies with a half-hearted "Oh yeah?" and doesn't even make eye contact. When I ask him how his day has been, he hurriedly says, "Oh fine, just busy now," and still won't make eye contact.

I know there's ten people waiting for their orders and another twenty in line, but I thought we were friends. Why won't he make time to talk?

It's very nice to meet you.

"Hello, we are Those People Who Expect To Be Waited On as if They Were at a Restaurant."

We're the couple that sits at one of the tables and looks up at the menu, deciding what we want from afar. When we come to our decisions, however, we do not go up to the counter and place our order like all of the other customers coming in; rather, we simply sit and wait.

After fifteen minutes or so, one of us yells out, "HEY, WE'D LIKE SOME SERVICE HERE!" A confused barista comes over to us and asks, "Um, can I help you?" Both of us launch into lengthy explanations of the drinks and bagels we want, and then smile stiffly and return to our conversation. It dawns on the barista that we think she's a waiter, and she interrupts and asks us to place that order at the register under the large sign that reads, "PLACE ORDER HERE."

This, of course, leads into a lengthy argument in which we chew out the employee for not taking our order from the table and allowing us the circumvent the line of people making their purchases the accepted way. Talk about terrible service...

It's very nice to meet you.