Coffee Shop Moments (3)

The steam arm purged as I cleared it ready to heat the milk. The midday sun was beaming in through the big windows. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, 1 customer in the store. I finished dispensing his coffee as a small woman with black hair walked up to my till.

I turned to make I contact as I passed the large cup of coffee to the customer.

‘Hey there, what can I get for you today?’

‘Americano please’

‘What size? – Medium or large?’

The customer blew up at that point.


‘I’m sorry?’ I looked at the customer quizzically

‘THAT ‘ She yelled. ‘That trickery you guys use to make us spend more money’

‘I’m sorry I said, this is how I always ask for it’


‘I apologize it is just small is our least popular so if someone wants it they just ask for it.

‘I quickly made the coffee small size and handed it to her’.

As she walked out she turned to me.

‘You corporate types make me sick’

It was the point thus far in my coffee career that made me stop and think. With my bushy ginger beard, and my coffee stained shirt, I feel like I was the farthest from corporate I could be.

The woman came in several times after that, I made sure the team new to offer small every time. She gave the same statement about us being corporate types every time, with our ‘trick sales techniques to get more money out of the customer’



Guns in the night

Darren stood stone still, he was behind the leisure plex, staring across at parnell place bus station. He pulled the collar of his black softshell jacket close to the sides of his neck, he also pulled the peak of his BMW hat down over his eyes. If there was one thing Darren knew how to do it was keep a low profile. He felt a stabbing breeze enter through his jeans and cause a full body shiver. He pulled 2 phones from his left pocket, unlocked the small black one and checked the time, 23:15, something is up Darren thought. He was supposed to be meeting Niall Flemming here at 22.40. Out the corner of his eye he saw a motorbike pull up to the traffic lights to Darren’s left. Darren turned on his heels a walked up the street towards the metropole hotel. Suddenly he heard the motorbike roar behind him, he took to a run.

As he tore through the street, he knocked over a couple of tourists with there suitcases newly departed off of the Aircoach bus.

“What the fuck is your game” he heard an angry English accent from behind. Turning onto Harley’s street, he could see the passing cars on Maccurtain Street straight ahead, the back tyre of the bike skid and he stopped at the bottom of Harley’s street. The pillion dismounted, Darren heard a deafening bang from what sounded like a gun, this was followed by a warm tearing sensation through his left shoulder blade. Darren yelped in pain and fell forward landing on his hands and knees, he turned onto his back. Placing his right arm up holding the wet bloodied patch on his jacket he began to move backwards using his feet. The figure walked towards him, he closed his eyes the pain was burning him, the feeling in his arm was numb.

“I’ve been double crossed’ he whispered to himself through the gasps for air. Darren closed his eyes and waited for the next shot. He knew this was it. This is not how he saw the end of his life appearing.

Coffee Shop Moments (2)

The beauty of working in a coffee shop is the people. The customers. The patrons. Its half 11 on a Tuesday morning. The rush is finished everyone is caffeinated and tucked up nicely at work. What we are left with is the time of the day that gets weird, in between the regular lunch and after work rush we get the interesting folk.

At 11.45 a man came in with a younger woman, she tried to kiss him at the door but he pushed her away and ushered her quickly inside.

”1 dry cappuccino and a medium skinny latte”

“Can I interest you in one of our fantastic bakewells to go with your coffee”

” No!’ he snaps chucking his 20 at me like I am a stripper in a nightclub.

They sit down the back of the shop, away from the window, unseeing from the bar. I can see them having an argument while I clear the tables, stopping when I am in earshot. The woman is crying, your mind wonders with these types of people, they are regulars but they don’t always use the same shop twice. They leave a bit happier, he hops into a black cab with her right out the front.

Our second interesting customer is a man in a fine three piece suit, he picks up a green bottle of sparkling water and orders a small black americano, goes to a wall table, lays out his two phones, staring at them, clearly waiting for one to ring. He ducks his face down when the British Transport Police came into the shop for their mocha’s. Two heavyset officers, their radio’s constantly lighting up.

The time of the day in between the rushes of regular customers, you get these interesting interactions with customers. You rarely know everything they are up to or the real story but for a creative writer like me your mind can run wild.

I like reminiscing about these people because they will one day become characters in one of my books.



Coffee Shop Moments (1)

The sun shone in through the window, I looked toward the heavy red framed door with thick glass in the centre, all I could see was bright yellow light. The breeze hit my face as someone walked out of the light and into the store, he looked rough, like a rockstar who had just been on a 2 month binge, a cracked leather jacked, hanging open to reveal a white tee, blue jeans and black biker boots. He squinted his eyes as he took off the black aviators hiding the green eyes and the experienced wrinkles in the corners, grabbing a bottle of water he slowly walked toward the coffee machine.

”What can I get you?” I smiled

”Ehm, espresso”, he stretched and yawned

”Single or double”

”Double, definitely double”

Sitting at his two seated round table with the little cup, saucer and spoon, he sipped the espresso, then the water, an obvious coffee connaisseur. As I stood staring at him, I was interested, wishing I had my notebook to write him down.