wednesday worries...

i have to share this quick story with you all before it escapes me... the world will be a better place after i have shared it, and i am not conceited or self centered at all, i promise... i just happen to think it's the gosh darn truth that everyone's lives would be better if they knew me and my inner workings.

i hate wednesdays. not as much as i hate thursdays, but i hate wednesdays just the same. why, you ask? mostly because it's not friday, or saturday, or even sunday. and a little because wednesdays are my sleepiest days. i start out sleepy, and remain that way all day until i finally crash into my pillow before 10 o'clock every week. my husband has an extra special time waking me up on wednesdays... i throw a little extra punch in on these days. i mean, i physically punch and hit and wail and scream a little more than i do the other 6 days of the week. i don't do it on purpose, i promise... but when someone tries to rip me from my blanket, my pillow, my bed, my dream, and my wonderful wonderful peaceful and perfect state of sleep, it is my carnal instinct to punch whoever or whatever it is. lord help me when we have kids. hopefully they never try to wake me up in the morning. i will be committed.

and this sleepy, hated wednesday started out extra sleepy, hated, and stoopid. that's right. stupid. 10 minutes before my usual wake up time of 5 am, i woke up crying. i was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad dream... a nightmare of sorts. i will not bother you with the content of the dream. 1, because you don't care. 2, because it is not crucial. 3, because it would prove your hypothesis that i need therapy. and while that might be true, i generally like to hide those little things that would seal my fate, and land me in the loony bin. anyhow. i wake up 10 minutes early. and it is my belief that any time before 5 am is still night. it does not become morning before 5 am. so at 4:50 when i woke up, it was still night. my sleepy, hated, wednesday just got that much worse.

clearly, it was a starbucks day. don't judge. even girls trying to pay off debt and buy a house need starbucks every now and again.

the line at my local starbucks was moving a little slower than usual. but i was in no hurry. so what if i was only 10 minutes early to work instead of 20. i watched people waiting for their coffee, people ordering their coffee, and i oogled the pretty mugs for sale on the shelf, i gazed at the local art for sale hanging on the walls. okay, seriously what is taking so long. as i glanced over the shoulder of the woman standing in front of me i saw it. grandpa was working the cash register.

the cutest smiley old man i ever did see. he was tan and bald with a gleaming white halo of hair. he had a toothy grin, and his whole face shone when he smiled. his glasses were fairly trendy. thick, square-ish frames. but grandpas smile couldn't hide his obvious confusion and uncertainty. i instantly wanted to hug him, and tell him he was doing great. the people surrounding me were doing nothing to help him in this way. the other customers must have left their patience in the car, and all sense of heart and friendliness escaped them when they saw the line in the entrance. my heart hurt a little for grandpa. i wondered if this was his retirement job; or if he had just been laid off and this was the first job he could find; perhaps this economy hit his household a little tougher than most, and he went out to get a second job. i wondered while i watched him work. he smiled and smiled, was joyous, encouraging, and sweet. he struggled inputting the orders on the computerized register. his employee counterpart was clearly trying to patient, but his patience had started to slip.

i was embarrassed at how rude everyone was being. did they forget what it is like to learn a new job? did their mother not teach them to smile and keep your mouth closed if you don't have anything nice to say? does their coffee happiness rely solely on how quickly it was input into the register? (the coffee seemed to be being made fairly quickly still) or are people just rude? do they just not care about anyone else but themselves? does it not matter how you treat anyone else? what if that was their grandpa working at the front counter. i would imagine their actions and attitude would be little different if it was. my heart hurt a little deeper for this lovely smiley grandpa every step i took.

i rehearsed giving my order in my head several times before reaching the counter. all smiles. speak slowly and clearly. give each part of the drink separately. "good morning. i would like a venti. iced. soy milk. latte. with an extra shot. thank you very much. you have a great day, sir." yes great. or, "hi. i am great. you guys sure are busy this morning. i want a venti. iced. soy milk, chai. yep. that's it. thank you very much." the man in front of me was extra rude, i was a little upset about this man. this man in his AAA polo. i bet AAA wouldn't be very happy about your composure in public while wearing their company shirt. i debated filing a complaint with triple A... but where would i start? and who would care, and what would i say, "yes this man, who must work for you in omaha, ne was very rude to the starbucks employee this morning for no reason. what? huh? his name? i don't know his name, but he was slightly overweight, and wearing a purplish AAA polo. what? huh? am i sure he works for you? well... he had on a polo, and it was right before working hours... what do you mean there is nothing you can do? don't you care that your employees are acting inappropriately in public while proudly displaying your company logo? oh... really... you don't? okay than, sorry i wasted your time. click."

he was out the door, and it was my turn to order. smiles. grins. friendly cheery voices. he was doing splendid with my slowly spoken order, he looked a little confused, but he remained all smiles and friendliness. i resisted the urge to pat his hand, and give him hug. i did not want to be carted off to the looney bin today. i gave him a big smile and sincere thank you instead. and i felt great about perhaps being the only sunshine he would see this day. then the coffee maker put my drink on the counter. it didn't look quite right. i took a sip. oh, this is weird... what did i order? i glanced at the little code on the side of the cup. soy, yes. extra shot, yes. chai. wait... what? i ordered a chai... with a shot of espresso in it? what the heck was i thinking... of course that poor man looked a little confused, this is the weirdest drink ever.

i took another drink. i didn't hate it. in my confusion... in my trying to be a light, in my trying to encourage grandpa behind the counter, in my total idiocy, i ordered a venti. iced. soy milk. chai. with an extra shot. i keep replaying the conversation i had with grandpa, and sure enough... i am a total idiot. latte, melinda, latte, not chai. i may have been nice to grandpa, i may have smiled, but i most assuredly confused him beyond anyone else in the store today.

and now i am still sleepy, i didn't get the 4 shot latte i thought i was going to get. i didn't get that extra pep me up. i did get a chai, with a shot of espresso in it. i did accomplish my goal of being nice to the new starbucks grandpa, i did not accomplish the goal of not confusing him in the process. and while i probably won't order that again, at least not on purpose, i didn't hate it. it was not nearly as terrible as it sounds.

Comments

  1. You are a sweetie! Sorry about the yucky drink.

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  2. If i go to bed even twenty minutes later than usual, the next morning warrants a Starbucks.

    Because I don't have the patience you do, I hit the drive-thru. They station their speediest employees there.

    And I also thought it was funny that you rehearse your Starbucks order, because I have to do that too. One drink requires so many adjectives that I sound dyslexic when I mix them up.

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  3. Jennifer23:36

    You crack me up! This made me think that we might be the same person in different bodies.
    Remember when we took Samantha to Starbucks and she told us she had never had Starbucks before because they were "white people drinks"? Luckily we were there to remind her that her last name is McCleskey. Pretty white sounding name.
    love you!
    Jennifer

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  4. jen,

    we are the same person, you are just in a much more attractive body.

    i miss you... i also miss mantha, and her little 1/2 white butt.

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  5. that is one of the funniest stories i've heard in a long time. i play the SAME headgames that you do while in line, trying to think of how to counteract the rudeness of the world around me by sheer force of charm, most often in airport lines......

    good for you - you invented a new drink. :)

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  6. Oh, Melinda, I laughed so hard! What a funny and heartwarming story. :)

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