200 Degree Mocha Lady

Here she is folks, the very first dishonorable mention in the Daily Crazy.

200 degree mocha lady has beaten out the tough competition she faced while I was deciding who was going to be our cherry popper. She should feel proud, really.

200 degree mocha lady is crazy. She has been coming to our store (despite hopeful threats to stop doing so) for far too long now, and boy how she hates me! So sad.
She almost always runs her lazy ass through the drive-thru, which I really shouldn't complain about because this way I usually don't have to deal with her; and she always orders the exact same thing:

"I want a tall mocha, 200 degrees with whipped cream."

Seems harmless enough. Bear in mind that this is the same lady that used to order 182 degree mochas before she decided that they just weren't quite hot enough for her. 182, not 180 or 185, but 182. Hmmm.

Everytime she comes through and I am playing in the drive-thru, I have the same routine. I begin to steam the milk, I prep the cup with all of the fixins and then I turn to my co-worker (whoever that may be) and I say, "Aaahhhhhhhwww, I can't stand this woman."
Once I have gotten that very necessary meloncholic groan off my chest, I begin to steam the milk. Not to two hundred degrees mind you, but to the point where the temperature can no longer be physically raised . To the point where you push the button to continue steaming and the damn lactose substance explodes in your eyes like a seemingly innocuous chemistry project gone mournfully awry. I then grab the spoon that one uses to separate the milk from the foam, heat it up under the 195 degree water tap, then pour the milk into her cup. I then top with whipped cream and graciously hand her her beverage.

Here is where I usually begin my downward descent into hopeless anger. She takes the tasty beverage, presses it against her cracked and souring lips, and partakes. And inevitably each and every time, she looks back at us through the open window and says, in a Bette Midler in the movie Hocus Pocus type of way, "this isn't hot at all."

This isn't hot at all?
Are you @#$*ing kidding me?
I can physically, scientifically get the milk no hotter. Milk, being mostly water has roughly the same boiling point; which is approximately 212 degrees Fahrenheit. As I have said before, I pay no attention to the actual temperature of the milk while I am steaming, I just let her rip and stop only when it is no longer safe to continue. So the milk is as hot as is humanly possible, unless she would like to try and drink the vapors that a higher temperature would create.

I have told her this before. I have actually said, in the most cordial voice I have, "mam, it is physically impossible to get your milk any hotter than I have made it." She looked at me with hate in her eyes and said "I know that." Then she proceeded to tell me that if I simply put the milk into a larger pitcher and let it boil over for a longer period of time, that it would be hotter.

So by putting it in a bigger pitcher and letting it boil over, I can defy the laws of physics. Richard Feynman is kicking himself in the nuts right now.

What kills me is this lady is a highschool teacher. Charged with guiding the youth of America to lead us to a better lot. Son of a B are we in trouble.

200 degree mocha lady is Hitler's long lost niece.
I am only too happy to have known of her existence, as she has given me the opportunity to tell the world that she is a crackpot, and if you ever have the chance to meet her...
I am sorry.