December 30th, 2009
Most of my adult life has been spent working in coffee bars.
Coffee bars, especially the current one I work at in the Mission District, have a tendency to attract riff raff of all shapes and sizes.
The other day I had to drag a drunk man out of the cafe. He had come into the cafe with his shopping cart and started yelling at the customers. I offered him a free cup of coffee in exchange for his leaving, which has always worked in the past, but he exclaimed “I don’t drink coffee” and dropped to the floor. I quickly propped open the door with the door stop, rolled his cart outside and then grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and drug him outside. I offered to call an ambulance if his collapse was an actual medical episode, but he told me, “nah, I am good,” and I left him outside.
Less than a day later, a review turned up on yelp about the incident:
“Cavernous hall with entertaining view of the roasting operation. Super slick espresso machine. Multi-talented barrista took out a drunk guy as if he tazed a sick bunny. Kept an uncomfortable scene from getting ugly. Extraordinary!”
