I think I’m having a Milk War. It’s not as fun as it sounds.
It started when TBE (aka The Boss Erratic) brazenly stole the cafe fridge for her own house, leaving the Out Of Favour shop fridgeless, with only a bowl of water to keep the cafe milk in.
That was over six months ago. There is still no fridge. There is only the bowl.
|Photo: Thor_Deichmann, Pixabay|
Six months in the life of a working café, with no fridge, and only a bowl of water in which to keep the milk cold. You couldn’t make it up. And I say cold, but it’s not cold (obvs). It’s more room temperature really, which is not surprising, given that it is basically just milk sitting in a room.
That’s disgusting right?
Well, the milk might not be cold, but this quite appallingly ridiculous situation has certainly chilled the relationship between TBE and myself. We appear to be having an ongoing fight about it.
At least, I think we’re having a fight. It’s difficult to tell. It’s a slow motion, civilized war of attrition carried out by leaving barbed little notes for each other in the shop. God, we’re so British.
At the heart of the Milk War is this: I flatly refuse to keep the milk for longer than two days. She flatly refuses to refuse to keep the milk for longer than two days.
I talk about listeria, she talks about ‘the sniff test.’
According to her, if the milk doesn’t smell dodgy, it stays right there in the water. So when she’s around, the milk very often stays right there in the water for five days.
Shall I say that again? Five days.
TBE serves people coffee and tea with milk that has been unrefrigerated for five days.
See? I told you it was disgusting.
I wouldn't if I were you...Photo: ajcespedes, Pixabay
Still, there do seem to be fewer and fewer customers coming into the cafe. Word seems to be getting round about the standards of milk storage, and the quality of the cake (Oh God, don’t forget the cake).
This might have a teensy weensy bit do to with me.
I may have mentioned the state of things to one or two café customers. I might even have uttered the words ‘curdle’, ‘poisoning’, ‘toilet-hugger’ and ‘projectile vomiting’ once or twice. But only for their own good. And, of course, to turn the milky tide of The War.
You see, I’m going to win this war of attrition.
I’m going to win because I have the one thing she can’t compete with; I have The Truth!
And TBE can’t handle The Truth! (Or, more specifically, she can’t handle the customers knowing the truth – but that doesn’t sound so snappy….)
A representation of our cafe. Everyone else is in the loo.Photo: Chummels, Pixabay