The Elephant Coffee — Restaurant in Las Condes

The Elephant in The Room: Arrogance.

The outdoor patio and decor of this cafe are pleasant enough, but where that ends, the staff issues begin.

A glass of cold milk was passed off as an iced latte. The assumption was so clear that this must be an honest mistake. But no, the staff not only disputed the mistake, but refused to fix it. Offering a questionable (20ml to 350ml) espresso-to-milk ratio as explanation.

Agreeing to pay extra for an extra shot, the drink was whisked away. 15 minutes went by, and upon inquiring where the drink was, they bluntly answered “until you pay the $1 fee, we will not do anything.”

Amusing , that after sitting down with drinks and food, paying (and tipping) apparently they thought we would skip out on a $1 charge. Now they wasted my time, and the iced glass of milk has become a warm glass of milk.

The manager (who was also the barista) was excessively arrogant, proudly declaring that “the customer is not always right.” Even when it comes to personal drink preference. And, that “they do not care about google reviews from tourists.” Shocking, but okay.

This isn’t the way to run a cafe. A simple fix to the drink, or suggesting a stronger espresso next time, would have kept the customer happy. Instead, the drink was discarded, the customer refunded, and a negative review was left behind.

To avoid a similar experience, try other nearby options instead.

Caffè di Luca Amelia Café Original Green...

This place was really underwhelming for me. I was told to come here because the barista has won some award - upon arriving the employees were very dry and it seemed like I was bothering them. I ordered sourdough toast (it said sourdough on the menu) with ham and butter and a cappuccino. They came out with two regular pieces of toast and avocado… not what I asked for and when I said I had gotten sourdough the employee said that they don’t sell sourdough- to which I showed him on the menu and he said that it must be outdated… then when I did eventually got my butter and jam they gave it to me in tiny to go containers… just a very underwhelming experience. Coffee wasn’t bad, but the experience itself made it stand...

Mi amiga trepadora me manda una foto de su desayuno: un café, un sanguchito y una galleta de limón cubierta de chocolate blanco. "¿Dónde es eso?", le pregunto. "Elephant Coffee, en mis barrios altos", responde. Me da envidia. Yo acabo de tomar un café que había dejado ayer en una taza. Un café que ni siquiera calenté. A los quince minutos mi amiga trepadora me manda otra foto, mostrándome que se comió todo. ¿Cuál será el motivo detrás de esa exhibición? ¿Por qué cuenta plata delante de mi pobreza gastronómica? No se lo pregunto. No sacaría nada. Incluso, podríamos discutir, como lo hicimos ayer en la noche, cuando pasamos una velada en el departamento de su amiga argentina. En un momento yo le dije a mi amiga trepadora que era una conservadora, que seguía pegada en los ideales burgueses de constituir una familia con hijes, perritos y esposo. No me respondió de inmediato, se mantuvo en silencio, sentada en un sillón de cuatro cuerpos, mientras su amiga argentina reclamaba que el sillón no era lo que esperaba (lo había mandado a diseñar en una minipyme), que le había salido un ojo de la cara (no dijo cuánto), que había que comprar en multinacionales (nombró la capital de Francia). No me atreví a rebatirle, por miedo a que me echaran. La que sí dijo algo fue mi amiga trepadora, que se levantó del sillón y empezó a escupir palabras como Planta Carnívora: que ella era otra persona, que la estaba pasando bien en Bumble, que no estaba ni ahí con tener un esposo, menos un hije, que yo debía hacerme cargo de los problemas de mi generación, de mis emociones, de saber escuchar, del consumo de los cuerpos, del ghosting; todo eso y mucho más mientras me fumaba un cigarro que irritaba mis labios. Ahora, que acabo de terminar mi café triste, me dan ganas de pedirle disculpas a mi amiga trepadora. Le diría que ya no pienso eso (aunque lo siga haciendo), le diría que siga apoyando a las minipymes (aunque su amiga argentina se oponga), le diría que el amor no es una...