How Bad Reviews (Almost) Destroyed Me

💔 When the Stars Don't Align

There is a villain in every good story.

Britney had Christina. Whitney had Bobby. Beethoven had Napoleon.

And me? I have three bad reviews.

Despite thousands of glowing reviews of the Turkish Coffee Room, the occasional rogue comment still presses my soul through a fine Turkish grind.

Why? Because I love people. My work depends on that sacred connection — like seeing the future flicker in someone’s eyes as the espresso vacuums away their blues.

And if that connection is disrupted, I spiral. Deep into the valley of overpriced incense sticks and moody playlists (get away from me, Thom Yorke).

Today, I present you a few that I still recite under my breath like ancient curses.

Because sometimes, the only way out of the void is to face the brew.

Honeybrew that is. Hell yea.

🧌 1. The South African Troll

Last week, I’m brewing coffee for my wife, feeling proud like a dog with a fresh bone under its pearly whites, when bam—a new Facebook review lands:

"A very bad experience."

My heart drops. My rat tail curls.

Except... I’ve never seen this name. And I’d remember, because male guests are rare (15% max, though they’ve increased in the last year, interestingly).

A click on his avatar revealed that he posted the same review for safari tours in Africa, massage parlors in Switzerland, and innocent fortune tellers in Morocco.

An algorithmic monster in a Gucci trench coat. I took a deep breath. And said, “don’t take the bait”.

Luckily, Mark Zuckerberg removed the review. But for 24 hours, I wandered NYC like a stoned bumblebee, wondering if I’d unintentionally offended a South African demigod, or something.

Let’s listen to some Black Coffee.

🐇 2. The Psychic Bunny Lady from Zoom

During the pandemic, Turkish Coffee Room went viral and got featured on CNN. (Yes, I’m still bragging.)

One night, after a fiery 10-person Zoom session, a quiet Korean girl asked to show us her bunny. Magical. Adorable. We oo-hed. We aa-hed.

The next day? A one-star review from the bunny flasher.

Just three words: "Just for fun".

I spiraled. “How could it be?”.

I panic-ate hummus on my parents’ lawn and stared at the sky for a whole week.

But would you believe it? A Google deep dive revealed she was also… a psycho. Excuse me — psychic!

And with a history of one-star reviews in her wake.

Professional jealousy? Mental illness?

I honestly couldn’t pet a rabbit for a whole year.

🇨🇴 3. The Latina Barista With a Sista

Back in 2018, Turkish Coffee Room didn’t even have a name. It was just: come over, drink coffee, get your fortune read. (Thank you, Airbnb Experiences.)

That day it was two Colombian sisters and another guest. We laughed. We bonded.

I thought—magic.

Then came her review:
"It was just OK", 2 stars.

I was utterly crushed. I even bought a Starbucks to console myself.

Then I realized—she worked at Starbucks, and dutifully tossed the cup.

But hadn’t we connected? Was it the bra on the ceiling fan from the night before? I mean, it was my bachelor era after all. Perhaps I should have endeavored to create a more comfortable atmosphere for my guest. Maybe, I was new to this “running a business” thing. How could I have predicted that it was going to be my bread and butter in a few years?

Oh wait, that’s my job.

☁️ Honeylujah

Leonard Cohen once said:

"There’s torture, and there’s killing, and there’s all my bad reviews."

Same, Lenny. Same.

As you may infer by now, bad reviews don’t just sting—they haunt. Especially when you’re already low. One poorly timed comment can feel like a cosmic bitch slap from a Latina barista.

Years ago, while living in Danville, PA, saving to return to NYC, I applied to work at a new restaurant. Met the wife. Saw the chef husband in the back.

Six months later? The restaurant shuttered and he took his life. True story.

Bad reviews aren’t just feedback. They can be soul-crushers. And when your art is your heart? Those words cut deep.

So before leaving a review. I beg you to think twice.

But just for me.

I kid, I kid. For everyone.

🔮 The Fortune-Teller’s Dilemma

Come to think of it, Turkish coffee reading is no different from a bad review.

It’s truth telling. But gentle truth.

Honest, yes, but never cruel. That’s why it’s an art beyond clairvoyance.

Because one unkind prediction or review can ruin someone’s day.

Or worse.

I am well aware.

So I try. I evolve. Today, each coffee ceremony takes four hours to prepare.

Candles lit. Space cleansed. No rogue socks or bras hanging from the ceiling. We went from Turkish frat house, to a lavish New York Times blessed cosmic bee hive!

Because guess what?

Every hero needs a villain.

Every fortune needs a twist.

…

Actually, just leave a nice review, ok? Thank you.

—Dr. Honeybrew 🐝
Your neighborhood fortune teller, spiritual anarchist, and highly sensitive Turkish man.

☕ TL;DR (Too Long; Drink Raki)

☀️ Bad reviews hurt—even from trolls, or jealous psychics.
🩼 They sting because I care.
🐰 One girl showed me her bunny. Then destroyed me.
💔 Another laughed in my home, then gave 2 stars.
🧙‍♂️ Fortune-telling is a wirewalk between honesty and empathy.
📿 But I’ve grown. The ceremonies are stronger. The cups are fuller. And I’m still here—caffeinated and un-cancelled.