Like a Costa toilet

I’ve often imagined the opening day of a brand new branch of Costa:

The cafe area is dressed to perfection - tables polished, seats straightened, gleaming coffee machines warming up, corners neatly snipped off the first milk packets ready for the highly trained baristas to pour perfectly crafted lattes. 

Then someone shouts “Balls! We forgot the toilet!” and rush to the large cubicle (there’s usually only one for everyone).  

It’s pristine and still smells of fresh paint and new floor. This must be remedied!

So, they get a bucket of grey gloop and begin to smear it all over the ground, soak some toilet paper in the sink until it’s mushy, then slop it on top of the grey gloop, treading it around with some fruit pastilles for added tackiness.

They realise the sanitary bin has nothing in it yet, so someone is sent next door to Macdonald’s to find enough contents to ensure the lid can't swing into an empty chamber and all future waste must be precariously balanced on top of the bin against the wall. 

The wall beneath the hand dryer is squirted with yogurt to ensure speedy mould growth and an extra layer of tangy fragrance.

The toilet seat is loosened and roughly pulled off centre, then scrubbed up with sandpaper to replicate the “5 years of abrasive cleaner” patina, and once it’s porous enough to hold a stain, the bucket of urine that all the builders have been contributing to during the build is ceremoniously launched over the room, and finished with a ribbon of wet toilet paper across the back of the loo seat like a top chef would dress a plate. 

They’re ready for business!

Costa toilets are consistently revolting. 

My butt does not make contact with a Costa loo. It’s a great leg workout but it adds nothing to my enjoyment of the cafe experience. 

However, they do many things well. 

You rarely get a bad cup of coffee because they train their baristas well. 

The team all wear the right uniform - the system for ensuring correct attire obviously gets attention. 

The food is of a consistent standard - it’s not haute cuisine but they have good systems to ensure customers know what to expect in any Costa they go into. 

The interiors are always on-brand - if someone blindfolded you and took you into a Costa, you’d know exactly what chain you were in. 

All those great things are built on good systems - which means the desired outcome is clear to everyone, there are checklists to ensure the right tasks are identified, and accountability to ensure the tasks are completed. 

I have a hunch that Costa does not pay more than a glancing whiff of attention to the upkeep of its loos, and it shows. 

Are there any systems in your life that are the equivalent of a Costa loo?

It could be big systems at work or small ones that help your personal life run well. 

What gets attention and what doesn’t?

What would you like to change? 

You get a chance to think about all sorts of things like this when you do the 90 Day Breakthrough.  

If you sign up in the next week, you’ll also be invited to our live event on 27th June at Rhinefield House in the New Forest and lunch is on us! 

Send me a message to find out more…

(They have nice loos at Rhinefield House!)

The author 

Vicki LaBouchardiere