Jamaica blue — Restaurant in London

Went in today for the first time, drawn by the name of the venue, excited to have a good espresso. Was met by the rudest barista I have ever met (odd given the fact the chap was middle eastern just like myself- we normally have a great culture of hospitality). I did not mind the grumpy kurd/Egyptian lad hoping the coffee will be worth it. I asked for a blue mountain double espresso to which he replied "is £5" awaiting my answer. I assured him I could actually afford that royal brew and waited patiently for my beverage which I was still very excited about. He proceeded to make it and long story short came up with 70+ milliliters (more than double of what a double espresso should ever be) worth of poorly brewed foamless dark-as-the-pit Costa-looking liquid which resembled the "espressos" delivered by vending machines in eastern Europe, more specifically Romania. I was already heart broken and morose but didn't say anything still holding some faint hope the taste would be at least mediocre given the price and the name of the venue. As sugar was not in sight I asked for it and he sighed and generously provided me with some. I tasted that vile soup and it had absolutely nothing remotely close to a blue mountain espresso apart from some mild acidity which timidly hinted at its origin but had nothing to do with it. I felt robbed and found some sense of relief in the fact that at least tap water was free and so I had saved at least £2. I poured myself a glass and chugged it down to wash the bitter taste of that disgusting espresso-wannabe and noticed that it had the temperature of urine of a pyrexic 70 year old man with sepsis and fever. Whilst I was doing so, another customer was served and mildly verbally abused by the same chap however unlike me he seemed used to that behaviour and took it on the chin showcasing great stoicism. All that would have still been worth if the coffee was at least decent but for espressos aficionados and single origin enthusiasts , that place is a no-go hell-hole. Go to Nero's you'll get a much better bang for your buck and they'll actually serve you a proper espresso not a barrell of bitter soup made of the scrapings from a coffee warehouse floor in Barbados islands. What a disgrace. The only good thing I can mention about that hell-hole was that it was decorated decently and the food smelled alright but the coffee was insulting and offensive, given the name, the price and the expectation that came with it. Absolutely never ever again, what the...

"Oh, It’s Your Accent!" – When Customer Service Hits a New Low

Here’s a little adventure from the “Customer is Always Right… Except in This Café” series.

Today, I ordered an oat flat white at Jamaicablue in Kingston. I didn’t specify the size (because, honestly, who expects that to be a problem?), and I received a LARGE flat white with regular milk.

Now, here’s the issue: I’m lactose intolerant. No big deal, mistakes happen. So I politely went back and explained that I had ordered oat milk. And that’s when things took a bizarre turn.

Not one, but two people —the barista and a regular (her own words) customer—immediately jumped at me, telling me I was rude and that I should say, “Sorry”.

Excuse me… SORRY FOR WHAT? For getting the wrong order? For not wanting to drink something that makes me sick? For expecting the mistake to be corrected?

But wait—it gets better. They went on to say that the real problem was… my accent.

Apparently, my accent somehow magically transformed “oat milk” into “cows milk” in their ears. Now, I don’t know which parallel universe Kingston operates in, but since 2001, my accent has never been an issue when ordering coffee.

The irony? The café staff also didn’t have a British accent. But for some reason, mine was the one causing order confusion. I wonder, if I had ordered a cappuccino, would they have given me a steak instead?

And the cherry on top? They remade my coffee—but still in a large size. If you love flat white, you know that the bigger it is, the less flavor it has. So I ended up with a bucket-sized, flavorless parody of my favorite drink.

Now, here’s where I can’t help but laugh: I’ve been working with clients for 17 years as a beauty therapist. Imagine if I treated my clients the same way:

— “Oh, you wanted a facial? Well, we did a full-body wax instead because your accent confused us.” — “You booked a skincare treatment? Oops, here’s a tattoo!”

Can you imagine how ridiculous that sounds? And yet, customer service seems to be heading in that direction—where the client has to apologize for someone...

Was super excited to come across this coffee shop and finally taste blue mountain coffee yesterday (27 Sept). Unfortunately the service we received at the till from one particular young Asian man spoilt the whole experience for my partner and I. We approached the counter to order and I asked if the latte coffees were also made using blue mountain coffee and his response was anything but warm, welcoming and friendly. Looked at me as if I was completely stupid and simply responded with "you need to tell me if that's what you want!" followed by a look as if I was completely stupid. I didn't bother explaining it was our first time visiting and was just seeking clarity. We paid and took a seat but both my partner and I commented how rude and offish he was. The older gentleman (presume the owner/manager) was super friendly as was the lady who brought he coffees to the table. I hope this review is a lesson leant for the young man not to judge a book by the cover and treat all customers with respect! Not sure at this point whether we will return or not, seems a shame as the black coffee and latte was delicious and well worth the £10 we spent to experience the blue mountain taste. Had we of received better service from the young man, our review would have been 5...