<p>Up until 2-3 years ago, I would have about 20 cups of coffee a year.
Stress, sleep patterns, etc. have changed so that I now have about 3-4
per week and as a result have become a habitue of my nearest Starbucks.
My “usual” is a large (I refuse to endorse their sizing nomenclature)
caramel machiatto, no mustard.</p>
<p>I have a whimsical streak and thus, when asked for my name, have been
known to say “Henry IV, Part II.” This is dutifully transcribed on the cup
and several of the regular Starbucks workers know me as such.</p>
<p>When watching one of the barristas apply the caramel syrup atop the foam in a criss-cross pattern, I suggested that she be more artistic…she could even do a reproduction of the Mona Lisa…and that when she was done she should sign, or at least initial, her art, notwithstanding that it was ephemeral, as much art is.</p>
<p>Yesterday morning I stopped in to big up my usual and this particular barrista stopped me when I was leaving and–not knowing a thing about my interest in college applications–thanked me for having said that to her, that she had written her essay for a college application about her customer, the art on the foam, taking pride in one’s work, etc.</p>
<p>My son works at a gourmet cheese shop. He is enthusiastic and knowledgeable about cheeses, along with several other topics. A long-time friend, who is an English teacher and sometimes college-essay coach at a private school, suggested that he write an essay about the people who come into the shop and the different types of cheeses they like. I thought that was a great idea, and passed it along to him.</p>
<p>He gave me The Look of withering adolescent scorn, and said, “Dad. One of the model essays in the Kaplan book is exactly the same, except it’s an ice cream shop. That’s the most cliche-d topic around.”</p>
<p>Sigh…I feel so ordinary and conformist. I actually give them my real name and order by their stupid sizes…my only Starbucks claim to fame is that my daughter has known since about the age of 6 how to order my extra dry non fat cap and she can tell by the weight of the cup if they made it right.</p>
<p>You know, that’s the second time in two days I’ve been compared to Falstaff. I admit that part of me is larger than I wish, but not <em>that</em> large, nor am I larger than life.</p>
<p>Marite, those of us who appear on stage can do Depp-like adaptation to various roles.</p>
<p>TTT, I’ve noted anyone reacting when they call out the order for HtIV-II. My theory is that most people aren’t really listening but have filters engaged that catch it when their name is called. Writers, however, are professional eavesdroppers. I even note the way people <em>look</em>, gauging everything from mood to social status.</p>
<p>Gotcha. We don’t really apply any whacky monikers to ourselves here. Life is too fast-paced for anybody to care. But my friend could totally be Holden Caulfield and this girl whom we have a crush on, Elizabeth Bennet. My other friend asked to be called “farmboy” once, but that was when he first came to the city and there was hardly anyone in the coffeeshop. I prefer to be called by my first name just because the barista pronounces my name so perfectly. He got it right the first name (rare for anybody to do so), but after 3 years of saying the same name over and over, he has come up with the perfect pitch, tempo, and accent in which to say it. It’s just not the same when another barista says it. I’ve actually thought about writing my essay on him because we’ve literally seen each other change personas over the years. He has gone from calling me “bud” to “sir,” and I have witnessed the growth of his beard and sideburns, yet our conversations seem to be fixed in time.</p>
<p>(And good story, TD. It’s interesting how we’ve found ways to create place in our lives even as the details aren’t those of the settled communities of the past. The best I can come up with this early in the morning are the cashiers at my local Safeway, one of whom asks me how my S#1 is doing at college, and another of whom asked me yesterday when I ran through the line with sandwich buns and blueberry pie filling, “Forget these yesterday?”)</p>