Starbucking It
So I’m at Starbucks, which is mundanity itself. There’s a line, and I’m nearly at the front; I’m stuck behind two guys with construction hard hats on who are busy propositioning the blonde cashier. She’s polite in that Starbucks Way, being agreeable and avoiding their inappropriately pointed questions as they order away in order to continue the conversation. The shorter guy is the wingman–he can’t stop singing praises about his taller compadre‘s physical prowess in the bedroom.
After the third salvo, the girl finally mumbles something about having a boyfriend, hoping to stop the barrage. But they go on, and she can’t seem to get them to stop their intermittent ordering. “…And one of these” becomes their refrain as they try banal one liners, hoping to connect. The queue behind me is growing restless, and there are the usual looks of impatience these two guys could care less about. I’m too entertained to care. These guys just won’t give up.
Finally, when the cashier informs them they’ve hit triple digits on their order, there’s an eerie silence. The taller guy pulls his credit card out, and the blonde has to try three or four times before she can finally pry it out of his hand. But he’s not trying to flirt any more. He’s just looking at the numbers that are stamping themselves electronically on his card and wincing.
The two guys leave, with an older woman exclaiming, “finally!” in their face. I place my order, and ask to pay. The machine freezes up as she takes my card, so I give her the three dollars in cash. She waves me off.
“It’s ok. Those guys paid for you.” She gestures at the rest of the line to let us know our drinks are free today. I gave her a high five.
