The sweet smell of butter and vanilla has spread throughout the whole shop and I can see the people pacing to get to work stopping for just a second in front of the door, contemplating coming in. Some of them have a tiny battle within that ends up being won by the rational side and they decide to continue down their road in order to give their attempt at success another go. Another day, another try. But then there are those who have 5 minutes to spare and a ready to take on the possibility that the calories of our freshly baked croissants would go straight to their backside.  Nothing in this world is perfect. If you want to enjoy the rich, buttery baked good, you must accept that it is filled with creamy goodness that will no doubt mean another trip to the gym. And if you don’t have the funds for that, then you just walk to work. This is London after all, you can’t live that close to your work. Later you will feel the pain in your feet, but it will be that bittersweet pain that gives you a sense of accomplishment and pride. Afterwards you will hit the couch and whilst resting your exhausted body, you will decide to treat yourself to that little box of Ben and Jerry’s that has been burning a whole in the front door of your freezer. It is quite a vicious circle, isn’t it?

However, there are those who dare to come in and spend 50 pounds on their sweet little sins daily. You see the occasional young lady, wearing the uniform of the upper class- Cartier bracelet, Celine bag and a superiority complex. Makes you think whether she has ever been in the position of serving anyone else at a time in her life. Considering the perfect blowout and impeccable manicure…perhaps she is making up for the years when she couldn’t afford it. With these ladies the fashionable not-trying-too-hard look is simply not an option. But you see, there is nothing all that special about these sophisticated creatures. I usually take more interest in the girl standing behind them with an apologetic and understanding look in their eye. They know what you’re going through. These poor ladies deal with it on the daily. All day. Yes, these are the nannies that take care of the utterly well-educated offsprings of the wealthy inhabitants of the most expensive city in the world. What do you think their aspirations are? Connections? I dare say rent.

Throughout the day you also cross paths with the lost man. Not literally lost (perhaps), but more lost in the sense that he has no idea how to please his wife in this particular instance. People say that a lot of choice is not always a good thing. And these men completely agree. A potential mistake could cost them a peaceful night and is therefore unacceptable. After all, they need to be well-rested and ready to make millions in the AM. They come in and attempt to remember whether their partner was in-love with the Cinnamon or Cardamom buns. Was it the White Sourdough or the San Francisco one? Does getting her a Skinny latte mean you’re calling her fat? And we wouldn’t want that, now would we? The customer is always right and we aim to please anyone and everyone walking through that door. So we patiently wait for the phone call and following reluctant decision. Don’t worry, we don’t judge. We get it.

You also get those who need to tell you just how expensive everything is in this rigid place. They do it every single day when they come in and buy the exact same thing. Repetition is the best way to remember, they say. Well it is safe to say that we remember. Wouldn’t you? A COFFEE FOR 3 POUNDS??? Yes, it still hasn’t changed. And it probably won’t change tomorrow either. Not that I know…I just work there.

And last but not least, we have the particular individuals that just don’t fit a group. They come in and you immediately know that they are simply misunderstood by society as they fail or decide not to fit the norms. They come in and buy a cappuccino for their poodle. Or a babyccino with a sprinkle of coffee instead of chocolate. Because who doesn’t want their 3 year old to love coffee from an early age? You have the occasional person that sits down and takes their dog on their lap, having a very intense conversation with it about the ways one should behave in public. You stand behind the till and literally cannot help but wonder if this is not normal or if society is not acceptant enough. I guess we’ll never know.