Cafe-hey ho!

Hello.

I should preface this blog with a short description of the glorious weather we are having. Without a doubt, this is the most fantastic day that has ever existed on Earth or in heaven since time began. Imagine, if you will, the best meal that you have ever eaten. It has tasted better than anything before, and you will never taste a meal as good again. It is a meal that will last in your mind, every detail recorded and remembered, until the day you expire. This day was that meal.

For me, it was a delicious baked potato.

But I digress. The day was beautiful indeed -- the sun was shining, the temperature a delicious 68 degrees. Not a cloud in the sky.

Of course Booth and Noble was full of customers.

Thankfully, I was working in the cafe, and for whatever reason, it was not very busy. I am not doubting the fact that people wanted their iced caramel coffee frappaccino delicious venti-sized vanilla bean java beverage, but simply saying that they might have gone elsewhere.

In the stretches of time in which no customers appeared, I kept busy: I rearranged the cafe stockroom (now, there is FRESH frappaccino mix, and not the old stuff), I cleaned the fridge (did you know that in the back of the Booth and Noble fridge there is a family of tiny people named The Edwards?) I also used three straws and two coffee lids to construct a googly-eyed pair of glasses, which I then wore, and promptly walked into a pole because I forgot to cut holes in them for me to see out of.

It was not all fun, games, and cleaning products, however. No, we had our share of fun customers as well.

One of the first customers I had today was approximately 245 years old. He had beady eyes, like a character in a comic strip. He wore the standard "Old Man" uniform: sweater vest (striped), shirt (solid), pants (soiled). He strode up to the counter like a man half his age (122.5). He slammed his dollar bill on the counter and announced, quickly:

"I need a cup of coffee."

"Ok," I replied. "What size can I get for you?"

"Make it a..."

We eyed each other. What would he order? What size cup should I get? The ironically named 'Tall'? The less-ironic, but still annoyingly termed 'Grande'? Or the absurdly titled 'venti', which translates as twenty, a number that does not complete the "tall/Grande/_____" triumvirate?

"...A Tall," he finally answered.

"Fine," I grumbled and walked to the coffee pots. I started to pour his coffee into the cup and then he stopped me.

"Leave some room for cream in there, son!" he yelled, like poison.

I left a small portion of the cup empty and handed it to him. He stared at it like I had shit in the cup.

"What is this?"

"The coffee that you ordered."

"Can you fill it up, please?"

"But you asked...ok, no problem," I took the cup back. And I filled it with a few dribbles of coffee.

"This is still not full."

"Did you want me to leave room for cream?"

"Yes, but I also want you to fill up the cup."

"So," I questioned, "you want room for cream in a completely full cup?"

"Yes. I want a full cup of coffee."

"Very well." I filled the cup to the brim and gave it to him. He seemed happy as he sauntered over to the cream section. I don't know what he did next (it was out of my eye-line), but I have a vivid mental image of him taking a sip of coffee and then pouring some cream into his mouth, swishing them around like mouthwash, and then swallowing the entire bundle.

I bet it didn't taste nearly as good as my baked potato.