Since I’ve graduated from grad school in 2013, a big part of my early twenties has changed:
I don’t do afternoon coffee. Or, rather, I don’t do afternoon lattes, which are my drink of choice these days.
There’s no need to be caffeinated after the workday winds down, and, with some of my medical issues and old lady tendencies, it just doesn’t work to my advantage to have coffee after 1pm. Occasionally, I splurge and have a cup of coffee, but usually “regular coffee” leaves me feeling sleepy and lethargic.
Today was one of those days at work where I just couldn’t function. I had half a latte this morning before leaving for work, and my stomach was bothering me so I had tea once I got to work. When I finally reached my prep at the second to last block, I just knew that I wouldn’t be able to tolerate my particularly boisterous last-block class without a pick me up.
So, I zipped over to a local Starbucks to save my sanity.
My name isn’t particularly common. I used to spell out my name for the baristas every time I would make a Starbucks run, but that got annoying after awhile. Now, I just say my name and stare at them, trying to challenge them to spell my name correctly– K-a-i-l-y-n-n— or just give up altogether. Usually, they add an e, or a c, or sometimes even a t.
Today, however, was a new one. I had a particularly bubbly barista, and when he said, “Now, what is your name, Ma’am?” I knew I didn’t want to be nice. Plus, I was on a time constraint. I responded, “Kailynn. Whatever. Spell it however you want.”
He looked a little taken aback, and then a creepy smile came across his face– similar to the one I give students when I’m being snarky with them. “Whatever I want?” “Sure,” I rolled my eyes.
A few minutes later…
“ONE GRANDE PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE FOR… WHATEVER,” the other barista bellowed.
Well played, sir. Well played. You win at this round, Starbucks.