June 28th, 2016
So, you know the drill — working and sucking down a Frappucino at a nearby Starbucks when someone loud and obnoxious comes in and decides to sit right next to me, regardless of the three other vacant tables NOT next to me.
One of the women was so silent that I thought she was mute, but it was only because her companion wouldn’t STFU long enough for her to talk. She just droned on and on about how she doesn’t have any female friends. She claims she has nothing to say in a conversation unless her children are present.
I imagine that, up until tonight, Chatty Kathy here must have gone about fifteen years without making so much as a peep, ’cause she’s rattling off her entire life story and every thought that’s ever crossed her mind. I feel sorry for her poor victim — : clears throat : — sorry, her “friend,” who just looks absolutely miserable. It reminds me of that scene from Airplane.
It gotten so bad that I had to get up and walk away so that I could initiate some awkward conversation of my own. I approached the fiery-haired barista, who I’d describe as being in her early 20s, cute, and always wearing a friendly smile. Recently, she began asking if I wanted “the usual” when it came time to place my order. The fact that she has committed it to memory intimidates me — first, because I don’t want to be remembered, and second, I feel like having a “usual” implies that I’m predictable. I decided to switch it up tonight, you know, to keep her on her toes:
ME: “I’ll have a … Grande … Coffee … Frappucino … with no whip.”
BARISTA: “Switching it up today?”
ME: “Uh … yeah. Feeling a little … adventurous.”
(I take a moment to re-examine the entire exchange …)
ME: “… Feeling so adventurous that I just ordered the plainest, most basic drink you have on the menu.”
I awkwardly handed her six dollars and walked far, far away until my drink made its way to the pick-up counter.
Barista: 1, J: 0.