SFist Raves: Citizen Cupcake
When the Virgin Megastore on Market opened, the top floor contained a restaurant we spent hours in. Overlooking Market and Stockton streets, we sat there with our textbooks (while frequently reading magazines, don't get us wrong) swilling coffee and taking in the view. In fact, some of our first dates with our now life-partner took place in the Virgin Cafe, back when our lives weren't dominated by local-interest websites and Citizen Kane. And then one day the Virgin Cafe was gone, blocked off and empty.
It wasn't until SFist Rita suggested we check out the new occupant of that space, Citizen Cupcake, that we remembered how much we'd adored the Virgin Cafe. The space is different -- a single, long table sweeps across the room, and low seating is in front of the windows. (Our German s.o. describes the layout as "very Euro", a term he uses interchangably for certain styles of shoes, telephones, and attitudes about race and gender, so maybe we should forget about quoting him.)
When we're hungry, we get a sandwich (we love the grilled cheese) and a Coke. When we're not, we get a coffee and a cupcake. When we're really in the mood, we get all that stuff at once. And it's fun to sit there and look out at the city and eat and drink.
Last weekend we were downtown alone with a low cell phone battery. A close friend called us and urgently needed to talk just as we were heading up the escalator to Citizen Cake for some much-needed coffee (read: our caffeine-withdrawal headache was incandescent). We sat down at one of the window seats, as the stressful conversation went on and on (and we're freaking out, because our phone battery is angry red, how will anyone find us and take us home if they can't call us? We don't want to ride Muni on a Saturday boo hoo hoo our head hurts).
Like an angel, a Citizen Cupcake staffer brought us coffee we hadn't even clearly ordered. It was on a tray with all the good stuff one needs to dress coffee up in style, and we were free to finish the conversation in peace. After the conversation ended, we went up to pay and get a cupcake. Still rattled from having to express human emotions (something else we prefer to avoid on the weekends) we screwed up how we calculated the tip, and yet another employee had to approach us to clear up our error - once again, politely, unobtrusively, and sweetly.
Knowing the end of our cell battery was neigh, we had made calls to anyone who might need us explaining where we were. But we were still amazed when a third Citizen Cupcake employee approached us with their house phone, saying "it's for you." That's right, SFist was taking calls at Citizen Cupcake, can you believe it?
Dear Citizen Cupcake, we were the crappiest of customers that day, and you responded with grace and kindness. With that view, such wonderful service, and some pretty decent joe, you have made us loyal fans for life. We promise we aren't always such a mess, but thank you for taking care of us when we were.