Frozen In Line

, , , , | Working | November 27, 2019

I don’t get to visit my favorite hometown coffee shop much anymore, so it’s always kind of an event when I have a chance. It’s an extremely hot day and I’ve been on the road for almost an hour; I also had to take a detour around some road construction to even get to the coffee place.

I park next to a car with two teenagers chattering away inside. I notice because I don’t want to accidentally slam doors with one, but they are in no apparent hurry to exit, so I get out and head for the building. The shop has one barista on the register and a second one to make orders; I’ve actually finished paying for my order at the register when the two teens from the parking lot come in and the second barista greets them with Valley Girl-esque enthusiasm. The three of them start chatting and I move down to the end of the counter to wait for my drink.

I notice a frozen mocha sitting next to the sink, and I wonder if it’s mine, since I ordered a frozen mocha. But the barista at the register has disappeared and the second barista is talking nonstop with the two teens while she throws together two iced coffees for them. Being really non-confrontational, I don’t want to say anything, in case that wasn’t my drink at all. Still, I’m a little miffed she’s making their drinks before mine. But maybe there was something wrong with the machine and my drink couldn’t be completed. Anyway, I tell myself, it can’t be my drink, because I asked for no whipped cream. I tell myself all kinds of things to keep myself from speaking up.

The barista finishes, hands the two their iced coffees, finishes her little visit with them, and then finally goes over to the sink to retrieve the rapidly-melting frozen mocha that was mine all along and hands it to me.

I’m completely infuriated that my order was evidently finished before those two jabber jaws even paid for theirs, and for some reason, the barista just couldn’t work up the enthusiasm to pass it to me at any point while making two more drinks. But I was too afraid to speak up before confirming it was my drink, and too shy to complain about it once I realized what had happened, so… here I am complaining into the void! Hello, void. Thanks for listening.

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