Just Coffee, Please
Last Wednesday, I stopped at a Starbucks en route to Barrington. It was about 7:30 in the morning, I wasn't fully alert, and I was wearing my collar. "Can I get a drink started for you?" the barista asked. "Grande nonfat latte," I said, when I noticed he was staring at my collar. Then he said, "Sorry, you can't save me."
"Huh?" I thought. Then he repeated, "You can't save me." He had a big grin on his face. I told him that no, I couldn't save him, but the person I work for sure could. And I went off with latte in hand.
This morning, I stopped at the same coffee shop, and John was with me -- also in his collar. The same barista (it's a guy; do I call him a barista?) checked out our clothes and said, "Last time, I said you couldn't save me, so now you brought help?"
"Huh?" I thought. Then he repeated, "You can't save me." He had a big grin on his face. I told him that no, I couldn't save him, but the person I work for sure could. And I went off with latte in hand.
This morning, I stopped at the same coffee shop, and John was with me -- also in his collar. The same barista (it's a guy; do I call him a barista?) checked out our clothes and said, "Last time, I said you couldn't save me, so now you brought help?"
1 Comments:
That's hysterical. I love it.
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