Service before my wake-up juice

I usually arrive to work in a half-dead state--uncoordinated, unable to think.
It takes a strong jolt of caffeine to get me going, and another couple of jolts to bring me up to a productive state where I can think and talk clearly, and in which my hands do what I want them to do.

From time to time though, the shop is busy from the moment I arrive and I have no time to suck down the caffeine. I burn my hands on the steam wand; I slur my words; Customers' orders sound like they're being ordered in an obscure dialect of Portugese or perhaps that African "click" language. It's ugly. (Not the click language--me.)

People have been arriving and ordering just as I'm arriving to work, a half hour before we're supposed to open. I suppose I could just tell them to wait until we're open, but they might just leave with their feelings hurt. We're trying to up business--every order is important in keeping us in the black. So I just tell them yes in my slurry speech, and burn my hands for their viewing pleasure.