La Bière est Prête
I did it.
I saved the beer. I stopped the Sun from setting in the ocean next to the ship.
It took some thinking, some random thinking, and a little advice from another hero such as myself…
I had been trying to either keep the ship stable, or somehow get the sun to land on the island. Not the way to do things.
Fortunately, flo gave me another suggestion - and even the greatest heros should listen to input from others. Those who don’t… well, look at Napoleon at Waterloo.
La bière est sauvée, and I have earned myself a nice cold Stella Artois.
Well, I would have. If it wasn’t 9.30 in the morning.
Tell you what, I’ll save it for later on. It may be cause for celebration - who’s up for a Stella at Leuven Bar later this evening?
Pianist plays through Eruption
So Ruapehu erupted again, scaring a few tourists and skiiers, hurting one guy caught in a Laha. The media’s alight with the story, demanding to know there was no warning - after all, scientists are supposed to be monitoring the mountain, given the amount of use it gets and the nearby settlements.
It was similar to eruptions in 1969 and 1975, but smaller than those in 1995 and 1996.
Most ski lodges on the mountain, full of people because of the school holidays, were evacuated.
Many ended up at the Chateau hotel, where the main lounge filled with people wearing skisuits and carrying tired children - while a pianist played Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight.
Hold on, what? The author feels the need to comment on the music? I bet the evacuees loved that aspect of the story.
“Oh look, he mentioned what song was playing.”
“Huh. Didn’t notice it at the time, what with all the evacuating I was doing and all. Didn’t seem all that important.”
“Yeah, well it is. It’s in the paper, see?”
Still, good to see that the Pianist kept their wits about them.
Not only did they show extraordinary taste in music, but also a fine sense of Irony - how ‘wonderful’ do you really think the evacuees looked? Not hot, that’s for sure.
I just hope he followed it with something like “Another One Bites the Dust” or “Burning Ring of Fire”
On a sauvé la bière!
Madvertising led me to discover the new Stella Artois website / interactive advertisement / game / puzzle.
It’s pretty fricken awesome - as are all Stella Artois ads. It has the usual traditional appeal, with comedic happenings and lots of untranslated French. It’s easy to tell that a lot of effort has gone into it.
Through a series of puzzles, the web site tells the story of Stella Artois, the world’s greatest beer created by the Villagers of Leuven in 1366. It shows you their way of life, their beliefs, and also explains the way in which Stella Artois has preserved its traditional taste and methods. The puzzles are quite amusing - you need to prevent the precious hops from falling off the side of the earth, help the village man escape the dangers of a deep cave with the essential pure water, appease the gods to stop a thunderstorm, and so forth.
They’re mainly all straightforward, it’s just figuring out how what you need to do - sometimes it requires a bit of lateral thinking.
When you succeed you get a nice little clip - my favourite comes after preventing the beer from being contaminated by evil spirits. The villager jumps up and down very excitedly shouting “On a sauvé la bière! On a sauvé la bière!”
Great fun.
I still can’t beat the final puzzle though. You need to prevent the sun from setting into the ocean (as per superstition at the time) to ensure the safety of a ship load of Stella. I can’t figure it out. Run through it many times, and I keep coming up with nothing.
It’s absolutely crushing to watch, time and time again, the ship capsizing and the beer being lost.
Exemplary Customer Service
This weekend saw the beginning of the school holidays. The cafe I work in is smack in the middle of a museum, and school holidays mean one thing - two weeks of being incredibly busy, with lines out the door that never go away, screaming kids, stressed out parents, and a basic disregard for most tenets of customer service.
We try. We do. Except, on days when it rains, the ground in the cafe opens up and demons from hell pour in. We’re only human. We can only take so much. Here’s a few tips to make everything run smoother.
- If there is a line out the door, don’t bother complaining about the wait. I already knew about it, you already knew about it.
- If there is a line out the door, don’t expect that the very next coffee to be made will be yours. It won’t be. It only takes a second to look up and see that I am moving in a blur of speed, and that I have a long line of orders to be made first. Once again, you know there’s a little wait. There’s no point complaining.
- Look at me again. See how fast I’m moving? See how I don’t stop? Do you really think I could move any faster? Not likely. Coming and asking where your coffee is is a bit stupid. I’m a human, not a robot. There’s only one of me. Be patient.
- Ok, so every now and then I might pause for 20 seconds. I use this time to stretch, and have a sip of water. Your coffee is not, and never will be, important enough to warrant me getting painful RSI which will curse me for years. Or to allow me to die from dehydration.
- Coming and asking where you coffee is just slows me down. I have to pause. And think. And look for numbers. And hesitate before speaking so that the inner “Fuck off” translates into “As you can see we’re quite busy, you’re coffee is about 4 minutes away.”
- It would help things immensely if you ordered exactly what you wanted at the till. Don’t come and tell me additions or modifications. If it’s not on the ticket, it’s not happening. Asking for a pot of hot water once you’ve received your coffee is just annoying. You knew you were going to want it when you ordered. Why didn’t you ask for it then?
- If you forget to order something, don’t come and expect me to be able to add something on. If you’d been paying attention, you would have seen that I have about 8 million coffees to make. I’m not about to stop and serve you. There’s a queue. I know it sucks. But I can’t be held responsible for your forgetfulness. Maybe, while you wait in the queue, you’ll learn for next time.
- If, when choosing where to sit you see some tables covered in dishes, and some not, do not sit at the ones with dishes and insist we clear it for you. You’ll get very little sympathy. The very fact that there are dishes on some of the tables mean that we’re quite busy, but we’re trying. We’re clearing as fast as we can. And no, I’m not going to stop making coffees to clear your table for you. That will just generate more complaints from people who are waiting. Please, use your head.
- If you arrive an hour before we close, and its obvious we’ve had an incredibly busy day, don’t complain that we have no savoury food left. Enquire if there’s any left, by all means, but don’t get all offended that we sold out. It was your choice to come after everybody else. If you had lunch at a normal time rather than at 4.30pm, then there would have been a lot of nice food to choose from.
- Never, ever assume that anything is complimentary. Be it marshmellows, or drinks for your children. Just because your cafe back home doesn’t charge for fluffies does not mean we don’t. Yes they’re expensive. They’re annoying to make. And result often in a lot of wasted milk. Also, if your young child asks you for something while you’re ordering, make sure you explicitly order it. We’re not going to assume they’re allowed it - that would cause problems. So the child asked you for a fluffy. You never ordered it. Never even mentioned it the three times your order was repeated to you. Why do you think we would assume you wanted it? Would it be the same if the child had asked for coke?
Ok, so I must sound quite bitter, and like I would be a terrible employee for a cafe. In my defense this is only on days when we’re getting absolutely slammed. If it is a regular day where everyone can breathe normally, there’s no trouble. Make as many silly requests as you like. I’ll answer them politely. Without my inner rage igniting.
I slept well that night, I can tell you.
Just call me Ben. God of Coffee.
It’s the end of a long day. I’m crouched down behind the coffee machine, cleaning the milk fridge ready for the morning.
Suddenly, I hear the voice of a middle aged woman.
“Excuse me, can I say something to you?”
Oh fuck.
I look up, withering stare ready and armed. I’m not in the mood for dealing with a complaint - it’s the end of the day and I just want to go home.
“In thirty years of travelling around the world, that was the most beautiful coffee I’ve ever seen. The pattern on top was outstanding, it looked like a native New Zealand fern or something. My husband’s a botanist, and got quite excited when he saw it. I just wanted to let you know how impressed we were.”
That took me off guard. I shelved the withering stare, and replaced it instead with a sheepish smile and a quiet ‘thanks a lot.’
On the inside, however, things were rather louder.
“Oooooh yeah. You know it. I fucken rock. I know. It’s cool. I would be awed in my presence as well. Just call me Ben, God of Coffee. A simple bow is enough, really. None of this grovelling. Ok, a little more grovelling.”
Needless to say, my mood perked up considerably.
The boss even overheard (always a bonus) and gave me a bottle of wine. My mood increased even more.
It is nice to have your work appreciated 
(Unfortunately, upon arriving home and opening my bottle of wine, I realised that some idiot had opened it already about a week earlier before seeing that a similar bottle was already open. They screwed the lid back on and put it in the fridge. It smelt and tasted foul. I had one sip. Gutting.)
-
Recently Written
Recently Commented
Adey Ben, 2 months without a post is terrible. Get moving!!!!!
yojoe What about Missile Pops?
Shannon OMG. Check it out… http://mudhead.uottawa.ca/~pet e/beard.html
Ben A singular beer won’t quite cut it. But you’re on the right track…
-
Admin
