Story Submitted by Dan:
Beatrice and I arranged for a first date at a tea house. I ordered a decaf oolong and she picked out Earl Grey. "I've wanted to try this place forever," she informed me as we sat down at a table near the counter.
We spoke for a little while as our teas cooled to a good drinking temperature. She sipped at hers, wrinkled her nose, then stood up and carried her tea to the barista.
"Excuse me," she said, "You gave me the wrong tea. This is obviously rooibos. I wanted Earl Grey."
The barista took the tea, opened its lid, smelled it, and said, "I'm pretty sure this is Earl Grey."
Beatrice said, "I'm a professional taster. I think I know how Earl Grey tastes better than a barista."
The barista said, "Let me exchange it for you, then."
After a few moments, the barista handed Beatrice another cup of piping hot tea. Beatrice returned to our table, we talked a little bit more, she sipped her tea, said, "Son of a bitch," stood up, and returned to the barista.
Beatrice asked her, "Can I speak to your manager?"
The barista said, "I'm the manager."
Beatrice said, "That's surprising, given that you've twice fucked up my order." She then raised her voice, like a tourist who yells at a native as if the native will be able to understand now that the volume is cranked up: "I want Earl Grey. Not rooibos. Not rooibos. Understand?"
The barista smiled and said, "That is Earl Grey, Miss. I'm afraid I can't do another exchange."
Beatrice said, "I'm a professional taster, as I think I mentioned before. This is rooibos. I want Earl Grey. Earl Grey."
The barista shrugged and said, "I don't know what to tell you. That's definitely Earl Grey."
Beatrice turned to me and asked, "Do you know what Earl Grey tastes like?"
I said, "Probably not as well as you do."
Another patron, who sat nearby, a tall guy in glasses, said, "I'll try it." He took the cup, sipped it, and placed it on the counter. "Tastes like Earl Grey to me."
"It's not Earl Grey!" Beatrice said, louder than necessary. She swiveled to me and said, "We're leaving." She then turned back to the barista and said, "I hope that you've heard of the Better Business Bureau."
The barista said, "We have one of their stickers in our window," and she pointed.
Beatrice said, "Expect a call from them," and she walked out, faster than I could stand up to follow her.
I mumbled a "Sorry" to the barista, put on my coat, grabbed my tea, and pursued Beatrice outside. Only thing was, she wasn't there when I made it there. I don't know where she went or why she didn't wait, but I never heard from her again, although I still do give my business to that tea shop. They didn't mess up my tea, after all. Or hers, so it seemed.
Story Submitted by Dan: