Costa Coffee

Oh, Costa, I wanted it so badly for us to work out.
You have everything going for you PRIME real estate next to the Goldhawk Rd tube station, in the old Stinging Nettle pub. As a mum, it’s so hard to get a cup of coffee on any of the little cafes on Goldhawk Rd without battling their skinny as heck shops with a pram. You are baby friendly, hussah! You’ve got great natural light, a wide open floor plan, and not everything is sticky like most cafes on the street. But when there is only patron in front of me, and it takes you 5 full minutes to do her order (and do it wrong!), I should have known there would be trouble. When re-​enforcements arrived, I figured I’d be able to get my drink is some form of timely manner. This too would be a lie. When I see that your staff are clearly overwhelmed and therefore make my order as easy as possible (no special stuff, I simply pointed and read off the board what I want, I do not expect the person behind the counter to charge me for the wrong thing and then get exasperated by me questioning the price difference. To the slightly annoyed person who couldn’t remember in the 3 seconds it took to hear me say what I wanted and touch the appropriate keys I didn’t do any special. I spoke clearly. I pointed. I could not make this any easier for you. Don’t get pissy just because you had a brain fart. And on top of it all, the drink was gross tasting. It wasn’t made badly (I’m not sure how you could screw up pouring ice and pre made mix into a blender), it was just gross mix.
So I’m sorry, Costa. It’s not me, it’s you.