By Chip Byteley
In a move that’s likely to alienate caffeine-fueled patrons and baristas alike, a trendy new coffee shop has ruffled feathers by implementing a “Coffee Jargon Surcharge.” Customers who dare order a simple “latte” or “Americano” without demonstrating fluency in the intricacies of pour-over brewing and single-origin bean provenance will find an additional fee tacked onto their bill.
“We’re not just about coffee, we’re about the experience,” declares Penelope Beanwhisker, the shop’s owner and self-proclaimed “Caffeine Connoisseur”. “And part of that experience is an appreciation for the artistry and vocabulary of the craft.”
The surcharge is designed to encourage customers to educate themselves on the subtle nuances of coffee culture. A cheat sheet taped haphazardly next to the register offers translations for the uninitiated: ‘double espresso’ is now an “intense flavor journey,” while asking for “cream and sugar” will get you the dreaded side-eye and mumbled instructions to consult the “Flavor Enhancement Station”(translation: a table with some very sticky, unlabeled jars).
Baristas, once tasked with the simple art of pulling shots, are now required to conduct impromptu vocabulary quizzes before taking an order. Failure to correctly describe your desired roast as “possessing notes of cedar with a bright, citrusy finish” will result in a polite, yet condescending, suggestion to start with a “basic bean blend” at an inflated price.
The reaction from customers has been…mixed. Coffee purists see it as a long-overdue defense against those who treat their precious brews as mere pick-me-ups. The sleep-deprived majority, however, are less than amused.
“I just want coffee, not a dissertation on the socioeconomic impact of fair-trade beans!” grumbled one disgruntled customer, clutching his extra-costly “handcrafted caffeine infusion.”
Social media has erupted with memes mocking the shop’s pretentiousness. A viral TikTok video shows a customer successfully avoiding the surcharge by ordering a “medium-bodied, aromatic liquid happiness with a touch of plant-based, sweetened emulsion.”
Despite the backlash, Penelope Beanwhisker remains defiant. “True coffee lovers will appreciate our commitment to authenticity,” she insists, swirling a mason jar filled with suspiciously murky cold brew. “And those who don’t? Well, perhaps they should stick to instant.”
Liv N. Large