I’m screwed. Here’s why:
It is now 10:37 pm and I have no need to sleep. I only want to watch late night TV and play Spider Solitaire until the birds sing with morning sunrise. I might also need to make a few lists, an activity I partake in frequently. I’m a fanatical list maker. For instance, here’s a list of Starbucks names I’ve created for myself. I prefer to take on alter personalities based on what I’m wearing and how I’m feeling at any given Starbucks. I love to hear them call my new name out loud as I saunter, strut, skip, or walk quickly to my awaiting Americano.
Gabrielle – Used for days when I’m feeling sensitive or soft. I might be wearing a flowing skirt and my hippy sandals. I would glide over to the barista for this name.
Max – Useful name when I’m feeling very powerful and magnificent. I would be wearing some of my business-wear and clickity shoes. I would march to the barista for the name “Max”
Hot Mamma – I love to use this name when there’s a cute little young boy serving coffee because he’ll have to yell out “Hot Mamma, your Americano is ready!”. Then I’ll ignore him and make him yell out even louder “HOT MAMMA, YOUR AMERICANO IS READY!” By then most people will want to know who this HOT MAMMA is. That’s when I saunter to the barista, with my head held high, one eyebrow slightly raised. I especially love doing this when I’m alone because I feel very brave.
Papa Smurf – This is the name I give when I order my husband’s coffee (plain black drip) for him. He doesn’t think it’s funny at all and has asked me why I get to be Hot Mamma and he’s just Papa Smurf. The answer is obvious: its because I’m ordering and not him.
There’s a Starbucks in my grocery store so I have to use my real name, Sharon. But that name makes me picture myself with large square glasses and a bad perm. Like I might own so many cats that I have fur and cat urine on all my home decorated sweat shirts I bought on special at Wal-Mart in the 1980s. But they know me there, even though I’ve tried to stay away since I spent $100 on a new coffee/espresso machine. They still know me and haven’t forgotten my drink either (Grande iced half-caf Americano with light ice, just in case you want to buy me a coffee sometime). They smile at me with their young happy shiny little faces. They’re so SEDUCTIVE! I can smell the coffee beans and hear the whirr of the frappe blender.
Today at 4:00pm and I was in between meals. Really low calorie meals, I must say. I needed a little bit of calories and was in the Starbucks line looking over someone’s shoulder at the menu. I talked myself into a little lemonade. Saying sweetly to myself: “Sharon, my dear, you know you’ll never sleep tonight if you have caffeine so order something sensible”. But as I stepped up to my caffeine drug dealer (aka Starbucks employee) she smiled and handed me what they have discovered is my “usual”.
How could I insult her by asking for anything different, I ask you? How could I destroy that young girl’s life? If she thinks she’s made someone’s day better, who am I to deliberately crush her spirit. So I gushed over her amazing memory and thoughtfulness and left.