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Monday, 19 September 2005 |
© 2004 By Sharon Bell Buchbinder
“Who’s next?” said the cute blonde co-ed at the Starbucks register.
She brushed some crumbs off her green apron while she waited for a response.
“Gimme a double hot cuppa Joe,” said the bleary-eyed man in the khaki
raincoat. His hand tremored as he held out a five dollar bill. Striped
flannel peeked out at the end of his sleeves.
“Would you like a Café Misto, Café Au Lait, Caffè
Americano, Caffè Latte, Caffè Mocha, Cappuccino, Caramel
Macchiato, Caramel Mocha, Cinnamon Spice Mocha, Eggnog Latte, Espresso,
Espresso con Panna, Espresso Macchiato, Gingerbread Latte,Peppermint
Mocha Espresso, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Syrup Flavored Latte, Toffee
Nut Latte, Vanilla Latte Espresso, or White Chocolate
Mocha?”
"Double espresso, plain espresso,” he said.
“That will be $2.50,” she chirped and pressed the register keys.
“No. Gimme a double double espresso,” he said.
“A double double espresso?” she asked. Her blue eyes widened and she looked around for a colleague’s advice.
Her co-worker, busy fixing the last coffee order, shook his head.
“No, sir, we’re not allowed to do that,” she said. “I can give you a single espresso.”
“Then give me two double espressos,” he said and shook the fiver.
Another glance, another head shake.
“No, sir, I can’t do that,” she said with a shaking voice.
“Why the hell not?” he asked. His red eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.
“It’s very dangerous. All that caffeine. You could have a heart attack.
We can’t be liable for it,” she said and bit her lower lip.
“What if I told you it was for my dog?” he asked, still waving the fiver.
“Your dog?” she said and glanced at her co-worker.
“Yes, my dog needs a morning cuppa Joe, just like I do,” he said, with
a little bite in his voice. “He needs his eye opener, too.”
Her male co-worker came to her side. He was a large, handsome,
red-haired man with Café Au Lait skin and a sprinkling of freckles.
“She said, ‘No’, so just take the one double espresso, man, and get outta here,” he said.
“But I need a double double,” the man in the raincoat insisted. “I gotta have it, now.”
“You can have one, and that’s all. Now take your change, get your
espresso and get outta here,” he said. “I don’t want to have to call
the Baltimore City police.”
“Okay, okay. I don’t want any trouble,” said the man. He took his
change and waited by the machine for his espresso. While the machine
hissed, he tapped his slippered foot, licked his lips and made soft
moaning sounds.
Other customers in line for their coffee stepped back away from him.
The young man handed him the double espresso.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” he murmured and sucked down the scorching coffee in one gulp.
A woman gasped.
“Mister, you gotta go now. You’re scaring the other customers,” the young man said.
“Okay, okay, I’m outta here,” he said and scuffed out the door. He
pulled his raincoat a little tighter and yanked on his sleeves to cover
the flannel pajamas.
He wasn’t worried. There was another Starbucks on the next block. |
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