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whatimeant2say This Morning

Starbucks this morning, 6:50 AM

Starbucks Speaker:  Hello.  What can I get started for you today?

Me:  A venti, non-fat mocha (whatimeant2sayFor the love of God, please give me something that will help me feel like I can make it through this miserable day on 5 hours of sleep!)

Starbucks Speaker:  garble, garble, mocha

Me: Uh, yes, but please make it non-fat.

Starbucks Speaker:  I said that.

Me:  O.K.  (whatimeant2sayHey!  I couldn’t hear you!  And I have been having issues with my weight lately.  My jeans suddenly stopped fitting and I’m having self-confidence problems in addition to the mysterious stomach illness that my doctor cannot seem to diagnose or treat, and the last thing I need is to spend my day feeling guilty about the designer coffee I ingested with FAT MILK – or feeling angry at a grumpy Starbucks Speaker.)

I drive up to the window.  No one is there.  Finally, a woman comes up to the window.  She is fumbling with register tape or something, but eventually looks at me.

Evil Czarista (impatiently):  Yes?

She glares at me as though I have just interrupted her in the middle of launching a nuclear missile.

Evil Czarista (more impatiently):  What can I do for you?

Me:  Uh, venti non-fat Mocha?  (whatimeant2sayDidn’t I just go through this with you at the speaker?  And, didn’t you ask me, “What can I start for you?”  Doesn’t that imply that, upon receiving my statement, you will actually start creating my drink so that it will be close to ready by the time I arrive at this window?  So, I won’t have to ask for it again?)

Evil Czarista: garble, garble, skinny mocha

Me: Yeah (whatimeant2sayOh, that’s what you said before, isn’t it?  Can you tell me this: why is it easier for you to say “skinny” instead of “non-fat?”  Aren’t they both two-syllable comments?  And, how do I know that “skinny” doesn’t just mean 2% milk?  Because, to me, NO FAT would actually be more how I would describe an “emaciated” person, not a skinny one.  Of course, “emaciated” is 5 syllables – which would totally blow the whole concept of abbreviating the order.)

I wait as another girl meanders in, and E.C. tells her my order.  She begins to make the drink.  I stare at the overflowing trash can that is the center focus of the drive-through window, wondering if they have already filled it that much this morning or if no one bothered to take it out last night.

Evil Czarista:  garble, garble

Me:  O.K.  (whatimeant2sayHow do you sound like you are still talking through a speaker that has its wires crossed when you are speaking to me directly from 2 feet away?  I am assuming you want my money since you are holding out the palm of your hand.)

I give her the money.

And I stick a tip in the jar.  Yes, I’m a doormat.

Evil Czarista:  Here.

She hands me the coffee.

Me:  Thanks (whatimeant2addfor making the start of my day even worse than it appeared when I got up this morning.  And I will be taking this directly to the lab to make sure it is NON-FAT.  And that you didn’t spit in it.)

With that kind of attitude, I may have to start going to the one across the street.

photo credit: <a href=””>hanna_ms</a&gt; via <a href=””>photopin</a&gt; <a href=””>cc</a&gt;
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