Ya know how they say ‘the squeaky wheel gets the grease’?
Um, let’s just say ya funk with Dunkin, won’t be no drinking yo’ coffee in peace…
“How the hell did you hear ‘two shots of oat milk’ and decide that what I really needed was…”
I had to double-check my Dunkin receipt, because none of this non-sense was making any sense.
“…and you decided I needed SIX shots of oat milk?!?”
The employee of our fairly-new local Dunkin Donut shop just stared at me for a second before explaining it to me again.
“It looks like you ordered six shots, that’s why,” she said calmly but a little bit dumbly, too.
“No, ma’am, those words never came out of my mouth. I said–and I quote–‘two shots of toasted almond [flavoring] and 2 shots of oat milk.’ I’m not sure how that got so grossly misinterpreted into 6 ----- shots!”
“But it says here, ‘6 oatmilk’ on your receipt.”
“Oh my fu–” I cut myself short upon remembering that I had brought my two daughters with me for a fun after-school snack, and as far as I knew, they had no clue that I didn’t mind throwing down an expletive or two when the occasion called for it.
“Look, I know what I ordered. How hard is this?”
For brevity’s sake, we’ll just pretend this part of the store didn’t go on for another good 3 minutes of madness and skip to the arrival of a new character in this stupid play.
“Excuse me, I’ll handle this…” a somewhat older–maybe 21? 22?–interrupted her co-worker. “I made that latte. What’s wrong with it again?”
“It’s got 6 shots of oat milk in it,” I said, slowly creeping towards exasperation.
“And you don’t like it that creamy?” this maybe-a-manager asked.
“Oh, no, I fu–” I side-eyed my progeny sitting a few feet away, happily snacking on their respective donuts, pretending not to listen to me. “I mean, I frickin’ love it, and I’ll take all the oat milk you wanna give me. It’s just that I ordered only two shots, but you gave me, and–importantly–charged me for 6. That’s $2 extra I didn’t want to spend! And now how is my thrifty ass supposed to drink an $8 latte and enjoy it? Riddle me that!”
“So…you want me to re-make it?” she asked, apparently confused by the financial issue.
“Well, not if you don’t have to.”
“So…you want a refund, then?”
“Yeah, that’s all I really wanted,” I said, just hoping to get my two dollars back.
“Okay, then. But I can’t let you keep it. I’ll have to remake it if you want a refund.”
“What? That makes no sense. Why remake it when I can perfectly enjoy this one?”
“That’s just the store policy.”
“Ok. Whatever. But that doesn’t make a lick of sense to waste the one you already made. Do you know how many oat cows they had to milk just to make those 6 shots?”
She gave me a bit of a ‘huh?!?’ look, not grasping my sense of humor.
“Just give me a refund and make a new one, please.”
She proceeded to punch a few buttons on the register, before it popped open and she counted my money.
“Here you go, here’s eight dollars and thirty-two cents,” she said handing over the cash.
“Oh, geez, I didn’t realize you meant refund for the whole drink–I just wanted the two extra dollars I paid…but oh, well. I’ll be patiently awaiting my remade drink over at that table. Ah, and let me put this drink in the trash for you.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled.
I quickly took the drink back to my table instead and poured most of it into some smaller cups the girls had from some sample they had been handing out–the one and only time I’ve ever known Dunkin to offer free samples, come to think of it…–but I digress.
“I’m have to throw this away so they can remake it,” I said as loudly as possibly while winking at the girls, before throwing the almost empty cup in the nearby garbage bin.
And, before you deem me some kind of monster, you should know that I had ordered a decaf latte because it was 4-funking o’ clock in the afternoon, and I don’t need the jitters. So don’t be thinking I’m the kind of dad that just loads their kids up on caffeine 3 hours before bedtime. Sheesh…
Next thing I knew, the lady who had made my original latte came out and personally delivered my new, slightly-less-creamy drink.
“Thanks so much, this will be perfect,” I said, as happy as any customer who had their problem resolved, with a little extra for their troubles.
I finally could officially enjoy coffee with my donuts…ahhhh…
*a few minutes later*
“Who ordered the large decaf latte with two shots of toasted almond and two shots of oat milk?” another random employee asked the few customers milling about.
“Oh, wait, you made one too?” my first barista asked him. “I already re-made that for him myself!”
“So…what do you want me to do with this then?” he asked.
“Go ahead and give it to him,” she said gesturing towards me. Then, turning to me, she said, “It looks you won the latte bingo today. You got 2 free lattes, how lucky can a guy get?”
“It was actually 3,” I whisper-bragged to my girls as she walked away.
“Huh, what was that?” she said, turning around since she thought I was talking to her.
“Uh, I said ‘you’ve made me so happy!'”
She just smiled what seemed like a pretty genuine smile at me, which was kinda surprising since I had been a bit of Karen earlier when I was raising a stink over the whole issue.
“Welp, girls, grab your ‘samples’ and let’s head on out.”
Waving at all the people I had inconvenienced for inconveniencing me, I quoted myself a little Kim’s Convenience, “Okay, see you…”
“Sir, if you could pull up a little bit so we can help the next customer, that would be appreciated.”
If this had been only the second time they had asked me to do that, I would think it a mere coincidence. But…seven times in a row?
“We’ll have to brew a fresh pot of decaf for you,” was always the explanation they gave for my delayed order.
Which, that kinda does make sense, since I was ordering coffee on my way home from work…but kinda doesn’t make sense because then that would mean the majority of customers they have after 5 p.m. are knowingly getting hopped up on full-caf, right?
But I didn’t care waiting an extra minute for little bonus coffee–after all, every single one of my decaf coffees were free.
Oh, no, not free because of the earlier incident, free because a few months earlier when they had their grand opening, I had got my ass up at 4:45 am to be sure to be one of the first 100 customers (I was ~30, I think?). And what did those customers get? ‘Free coffee for a year!’
Of course that didn’t mean free coffee every day for a year, which is a little misleading if you ask me. No, instead it meant a free medium hot coffee once a week (oat milk extra). But in fairness, they gave us 2 bonus months worth, for a total of 14 months, in the coupon booklets they were handing out.
Anyways, I never had time to stop at this particular Dunkin–the only one these coupons were good at–on my way to work because I was always rushing to get the girls dropped off at school on time. But like hell I was going to let free coffee go un-drank, so there I was, getting another ----- post-workday decaf out of principle.
*a few minutes later*
“Hey Love, I got another one of my free decaf Dunkin’s, if you want some,” I told My Beautiful Bride once I had got home and found her in the kitchen.
“Oh, sure, that’s sweet of you to share,” she said, picking up the cup and bringing it to her lips.
“Funny thing, though,” I said, letting my thoughts wander aimlessly. “Every time I’ve gotten decaf in the evening, I’ve had to wait a few extra minutes to make a fresh pot–all just for me! I feel like a VIP! Or like a ‘Dun-King’ as those advertisements say.”
She paused with the cup right at her lips.
“Uh, what’s that you say?”
“I said that it’s going to be super-fresh because they always make a new pot of decaf just for me.”
She sat the coffee down without having taken a sip.
“Oh, Honey, bless your heart.”
“Huh, what?” I was confused by the sudden onset of her patronizing tone.
“Do you recognize the employee running the drive-thru window each time?”
“Yeah, how did you know? It’s always been someone who was there that magical majestic day whence I got 3 free lattes. They’ve been so super-nice to me ever since.”
“That’s a cute thought, but I’m pretty sure they’re not brewing a new pot just for you.”
“Oh yeah? Then what else would they be doing?”
“I imagine the conversation inside the Dunkin’ is going a little something like this:
‘Hey, it’s Ol’ Six-Shooter again ordering another one of his free decafs!’
‘Ah-ha, what a devilishly delicious opportunity that the ----- Karen has been delivered right into our hands once again! Can you stall him for a few minutes?’
‘Sure can!’
‘Sweet. Bring out the secret stash of moldy, 3-day-old sludge!’
‘Bring out the sludge!’
‘Bring out the sludge!’
‘And, everybody, be sure to contribute your own spit as a bring it by you, mmmkay?’
‘Yeah, make the whiny little butthole pay for his crimes!’
‘Yeah, make him pay!’
‘Muah-ha-ha-hah! ‘Decaf’…pffft! The idiot has no clue what we’re really pouring down his gullet!’
My Beautiful Bride, gave an emphatic nod, so as to put an exclamation point on her overly-dramatic and speculative reenactment.
“Wait just a tick, you mean…” I said as it slowly dawned on me.
“Yup,” she said, somehow solemnly and a bit too gleefully at the same time.
“Dammit, they’ve been giving me the motor oil this whole time?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Welp, so much for thinking that everyday would be decaf day…”
Content created on: 28/29 June 2025 (Sat/Sun)
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