Steamed: Notes From A Barista


Source: thoughtcatalog.com

by Henry Freedland

You know us. We’re here on the walk to your morning’s single-transfer commute to a creative career job in Manhattan, probably Midtown, potentially Chelsea, rarely SoHo, never Wall Street. We remember you and your usual drink and can anticipate that you switch from hot to iced coffee somewhere in early-to-mid June. We look you in your tired eyes, bleary from catching up on Battlestar Galactica, Breaking Bad, Bolaño, whatever, too late into the night, and we ask you—because you’re usually such a staunch small-coffee consumer—”a large today?” You see, we’ve noticed. Or we have your order ready on the counter by the time the line snakes you into first position. We have staved off an incursionist front of urban anonymity. You’re flattered that we remembered. You’re very impressed.

You shouldn’t be. We probably went to your alma mater. In select cases, we might even keep this fact to ourselves so that you won’t feel bashful when required to discuss professors with the person who’s buttering your scooped-out sesame bagel. In our minds, we’re saying “I tried to hang my diploma in the fridge back here, but it didn’t leave enough room for the soy milk and chai mix.”

Continue sipping…

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