WTF? Wednesday

Today's Miss Soft Crab is brought to you by the barista who makes my coffee in the morning, and the letters W, T and F.

Being a barista in this town would be a tough gig. First, even though you have to make coffee after coffee after coffee, you have to make every single one of those little bastards delicious or your fickle clients will abandon you.  Second, you have to make small talk with all the people. Hundreds of people. I effing love small talk, but in those kind of volumes even I would struggle.

While my barista nails the first aspect, he kind of falls down with the second, but because he really knows his way around a coffee machine,  I have been successfully ignoring the weird stuff he says so I can enjoy his tasty brews on a daily basis.

I guess it's kind of hard to ignore, though.  Here is a random sample of small talks we have had recently:

 

Barista: "I read a book about the guy that the TV show The Mentalist is based in. He's really inspirational".
Me: *facepalm*

Barista: "I've got the names of all my children picked out already. I'm going to call my son Tiger Tiger."
Me: *WTF? WTF?*

Barista: "Where's Brunswick?"
Me: *...................!........................*

It's a pretty bad scene.  But you know, he's not my damn geisha girl, so I don't really need him to be a good conversationalist. I just need him to make with the good coffee, which he totally does.

But, like all relationships that involve an element of denial, this one is about to come to an end on account of some truly WTF? shit he said on Monday.

Let me set the scene. I'm sure you remember Monday. It was just two days ago after all. It poured with rain which meant the morning commute was characterised by delays, and people losing their shit because of the delays. You did not want to be on the #96 on Monday people, it was nasty. The calls of "please move down the tram, people are trying to get on!" came thick and fast, as did the customary responses  "We're trying" and "There's no where to go!" and "Idiots!".

By the time I got off the tram I was feeling kind of grateful to be alive, and boy did I want the heck out of a coffee.  I trotted in to the cafe, and there was Barista, waiting with that metal thing they put the coffee in and the jug they put the milk in, all ready to go.  With the start of the coffee making came the small talk.

Barista: "So I hear the trams are a nightmare this morning"
Me: "Oh dude, today's tram ride sucked balls".

I said this because it is the truth, the tram ride sucked balls.

Then he says "hahaha, well everyone I've spoken to said it was really bad, so I guess you really hate sucking balls!" and looked at me all expectantly.
Like saying that something sucks balls isn't a mere figure of speech,  and  like I should answer, like asking a lady on her way to work how she feels about sucking balls is an OK thing.

Um, WTF guy?! That is not cool!

Dude crossed a line, and now I have to find a new barista. Thanks a lot, guy. Sheesh.