"Hello, we are Those People Who Try to Return Broken Merchandise at Full Price."

I'm the man who bought an French press or a coffee mug at the coffee shop, and promptly broke it after using it only a few times. It's true that maybe I didn't read the instructions and I overloaded the French press and kept squeezing it until it cracked, or that I set the mug on my desk and then absent-mindedly knocked it off onto the hardwood floor where it shattered, but I believe that the reason the object gave out was ultimately because the coffee shop sold me a faulty item. As such, I intend to hold them accountable.

I return to the coffee shop with the item in hand, and gruffly ask to speak with a manager. I explain to her that the object was a lemon and that I deserve a brand new one, free of charge. She doesn't like the fact that I broke it myself, and strangely has a huge problem with me trying to return it with its original packaging and without a receipt to prove I purchased the item here. She finally rejects my demands after I spend several minutes chewing her out. Finally I storm out, livid at the lack of customer service.

It's very nice to meet you.

"Hello, we are Those People Who Justify Themselves for Not Tipping."

I'm the lady who purchases her drink with a large bill and receives a few dollar bills in change instead of a handful of coins. I look at the tip jar, and thoughtfully inspect the one dollar bills in my hand. I know it would nice to give a little gratuity, but don't think I can afford to part with one hundred important cents. Instead of simply walking off like many customers do, however, I attempt to make amends by explaining my lack of a tip. "I'm sorry, but I really need to have some cash on hand," I say. "If I had a little less I would give you that, but I really need to hold on to this."

I then drop my one dollar bills into my purse where they will inevitably find their way to the bottom of the bag and be forgotten, while the baristas feel paradoxically more insulted than if I had simply said nothing. At least I didn't steal any of the tip money, though.

It's very nice to meet you.

"Hello, we are Those People Whose Orders Never Seem to End."

I'm the person who seems to think that every order needs the proper amount of suspense to be done properly. My exchange at the counter goes something like this:

BARISTA: May I help you.
CUSTOMER: Yes.
BARISTA: ...um, OK, what would you like?
CUSTOMER: I'll have a cup of coffee, the light blend.
BARISTA: OK, will that be all?
CUSTOMER: No, I'd also like a blueberry bagel.
BARISTA: ...alright. Any cream cheese?
CUSTOMER: Yes.
BARISTA: ...OK...what kind?
CUSTOMER: Strawberry.
BARISTA: Sounds good. (rings it up) That'll be...
CUSTOMER: Wait. I'd also like an Italian soda. Cherry-flavored.
BARISTA: OK. Is that it?
CUSTOMER: No...
BARISTA: (getting bored) ...alright...what else?
CUSTOMER: I'll also have a coffee cake muffin.
BARISTA: OK, then, a light coffee, blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese, a cherry Italian soda, and a coffee cake muffin. That will be...
CUSTOMER: Wait, and two slices of the cheesecake, to go.
BARISTA: (frustrated) And that's it?
CUSTOMER: Yes.
BARISTA: (sighs) Alright then. That'll be...
CUSTOMER: Oh, wait, I remembered something... (barista groans) A blended ice mocha, also to go.
BARISTA: What else?
CUSTOMER: Oh, and a blended caramel ice. Also to go.
BARISTA: ... (waiting) ...very good. A light coffee, a cherry Italian soda, a blended iced mocha, a blended caramel ice, two slices of cheesecake, a coffee cake muffin, and a blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese. That'll be...
CUSTOMER: Oh, silly me! I just remembered two other people who asked for something...


It's very nice to meet you.

"Hello, we are Those People Who are Conveniently Oblivious to the Destruction Being Caused by Their Children."

I'm the mom who brings along her two children, ages six and seven, on her coffee run. As I place my order, I tell my kids to sit down and be quiet, to which they respond by prompting jumping up and running around screaming at the top of their lungs. They pull napkins out of the dispensers, knock over the sugar and creamer, pull chairs out from tables and leave them in the middle of the room.

However, while everyone else in the coffee shop looks on in horror at my children's reign of destruction, I simply take my time placing my order, occasionally glancing at my kids and softly saying, "Now you two behave yourselves," while not actually doing anything to stop them. When one of the baristas leans over the counter and attempts to politely tell the children to be quiet, I get very offended. These are my kids, leave them alone! Besides, it's not like they're doing anything wrong...

It's very nice to meet you.

"Hello, we are Those People Who Claim the Largest Table in the Coffee Shop for Themselves."

I am the young man who comes in with a laptop and a collection of papers and printouts, ready to settle in and get some work done. However, instead of taking my place at a small table for two for sitting up on the bar, I elect for the large round table intended to seat eight people. I plug in my laptop and spread out my files, as I watch several families and groups of friends come in and pull together the smaller tables just to find enough seating. I think I notice them eying my booth, but I'm sure it's just selfish jealousy on their parts.

I am probably also one of Those People Who Take Over the Coffee Shop for Group Study Sessions, but at least in those situations we have people occupying all of the chairs. Here, by myself I am blocking half a dozen people from finding a place to sit. I really need to get work done, though, and this is the ideal workspace! Do you honestly expect me to cram into one of those tiny side tables? I don't think so.

It's very nice to meet you.