A cup of coffee

So I went to this small coffee shop on State Street last week. I had heard good reviews, and was curious.

There was this fairly old gentleman at the counter. That struck me as odd. At a place like Starbucks, you would expect high-schoolers to run the show. Oh, well.

I ask him for a Cappuccino. And there began a series of questions:

Single, double or blah: And he showed me how big each one was going to be. Single, I said. Reasonable question. My mistake for not having been more specific. Shrugs.

I turn around to people watch.

Whole milk, reduced fat milk, or fat free: I look at him like, "I don't care," but say... "Reduced Fat." A pretty girl enters the store.

Regular or Soy Milk: Regular. Annoyed. But irritable people turn away pretty women... or so I've heard. And so I smile.

Decaf or regular: Regular.

Ethiopian, Nigerian or blah: Whatever.

Foam/No Foam: Pretty girl or no. I'm irritated by now. I wouldn't have minded this at another time. But I was on my boss' clock then. I say, "Foam's alright" And manage a smile.

Couple minutes later, I get my Cap. The old gentleman looks at me, and says, "I'm sorry young man! We like to make our coffees exactly the way you want it."

"But," comes the killer closing line, "We're not like Starbucks."

"We don't teach the customer how to order!"

I smile.

Pretty girl smiles.

And the whole room smells like fresh coffee. :)

Nigerian.