My job keeps me on the road all day, and once or twice a day I break for coffee, which is usually Starbucks because 1) it’s everywhere and 2) its product tastes better than the other coffeeshops that are everywhere. I haven’t really come to terms with how often I go to Starbucks. As a defense mechanism, whenever I go there I promptly start hating everyone around me, for no other reason than that they’re ordering coffee at the same establishment as I am.
So the other day I was in line for coffee in not just any Starbucks, but one that I frequent during the workweek, on the border between One Rich Douchey Town and Another Even Richer Douchier Town. People struggle to park their luxury SUVs in the compact parking spots. There are usually women in there wearing jodhpurs (going to the stables!) or expensive pajamas (going to the tanning salon! Or wherever the fuck grown women go in expensive pajamas!) Once the “daily quote” on the whiteboard near the bathroom was from Ayn Rand. Overall, it’s a hell of a scene.
So I was there. And I was failing in my efforts to practice Right Mindfulness and not seethe with ill will. The man ahead of me in line placed his coffee order, which I overheard—“A redeye with sugar”. A scan of the menu revealed that there was nothing called a “redeye”; this schmuck was going off-menu! My wrath flared at the foolishness of ordering a cool secret drink at Earth’s most ubiquitous and generic cafe.
But I had to take a break from my annoyance when it was my turn to order. I was particularly drowsy that day so I decided to get something extra-caffeinated: “An iced coffee with a shot of espresso, please,” I said. To my horror the cashier responded to this reasonable request by calling over to the barista, “Iced redeye!”
Some stinks, you just can’t wash them off.