Kelly-Rose Bradford: How do I like my coffee? With entertainment

Jan 26 2010 Surrey Herald

THEY'RE funny things, coffee shops. I have a couple of haunts I work from regularly. Arriving early to secure a seat by an electricity socket, then, my laptop fired up and with many re-orders of pots of tea, I settle down to work. And people-watch.

For entertainment, this week started well. As I queued to order my drink, two women were having a loud conversation about a colleague who had just given birth.

"She had a baby girl, but I don't know what sex it is," said one, while the other merely nodded and asked if it had been named yet.

Once at my table I observed the usual rituals of mums with combine harvester-sized pushchairs, re-arranging tables and pilfering chairs to set up a small compound, which a steady stream of other mothers joined, relaxing over their lattés while their toddlers ran amok.

Then come the people who visit solely to avail themselves of the 'free' facilities, making a single drink last for hours, sitting next to the heaters and stuffing their pockets with napkins and sugar sachets.

Not forgetting customers who treat the staff like personal servants, demanding damp cloths to wipe children's faces and casually handing over nappies 'to put in your bin'.

"Get me a top-up," called one woman, proffering her teapot and barely looking up from her magazine as the barista, cleaning cloth and detergent in hand, walked past.

But the biscuit (or should that be biscotti) was taken by the chap who rounded on the staff over the lack of complimentary newspapers.

After ordering his coffee (small, minimum spend) he asked where the papers were. The woman behind the counter explained they were not yet available as there were no staff free to collect them.

Sometime later, he was back. Visibly and audibly agitated, no doubt down to too much caffeine and lack of print media.

"I've finished my coffee," he huffed, "And there are still no newspapers. What's going on? Where are they?"

The woman repeated she was sorry, but there was still no free member of staff to get them.

The man was practically jumping up and down at this point, offering all kinds of 'advice' as to how the coffee shop might be better run, and launching into a tirade on how staff could be better deployed. His rudeness and arrogance was breathtaking. "What am I going to do?" he finally demanded. "I like to read the paper with my coffee."

The temptation to wade in with an answer was overwhelming: Try buying one from the newsagents, sir?