It was Saturday morning. Liz, Rob, and I awoke groggy, sweaty, and in some serious need of caffeine. "Never fear!" I said, valiantly. "I've got true Starbucks coffee - guaranteed to give you what you need!" I went to work making the coffee; not too strong, but not too weak. I am, after all, something of a connouisseur. Rob asked for his with milk and sugar - I gave it a stir and handed it over.
"Is this a special kind of coffee?" Rob asked. "It's got a really fruity flavor."
A fruity flavor? Rob must be a connouisseur, like me! I drink the same Starbucks coffee every morning and I never noticed a fruity flavor! Prepared for an enlightened experience, I took a big sip of my coffee . . . and promptly spat it back into the cup.
"What the h--- is this?!" I said. "It's vile!" I sniffed the water in the teakettle - it seemed okay. I sniffed the coffee - it seemed okay. I sniffed the milk - it was fruit yoghurt.
"I'm such an idiot, Rob. I'm sorry."
"That's alright," he replied. "But I'll always remember this as the day that a person from Seattle put fruit yoghurt into my coffee." And he finished the cup.
2 comments:
A former Starbucks barrista, no less! You must need some Seattle retraining!
I know! I really feel like a let my city down. The first person he's known from Seattle and I screwed-up his coffee! On the bright side, I guess that part of my purpose in being here is to breakdown stereotypes . . .
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