In an effort to get out the door for work on time yesterday and then to a meeting a little later I skipped out on getting coffee, which left me caffeine deficient until about 30 minutes ago.
Why this sometimes seems like a good idea is totally beyond me. I’m addicted and I should really just come to terms with that. I’m just a nicer, better person when properly caffeinated. 1 2 3
At the local coffee spot I stood in a line of zero people while waiting my turn, still with my sunglasses on from being exposed to the harsh bright light of a Bay Area sunny morning. The barrista beckoned me forward and I handed him my empty travel mug and credit card. “A lot of coffee please.” He filled the mug, charged my card, and asked if I needed the receipt, which I declined. At least, that’s how it was supposed to go down.
Small coffee?
Huh? What? Um, n…
Well, I’ll fill it up, and charge you for a small coffee.
Oh, okay… thank you.
Do you want me to rinse it out?
Uh, wha… no…
Room for cream?
Um, yeah, thanks.
Okay, great! Credit card? Do you want the receipt?
No, thanks.
The above is actually a very normal transaction, but in my drug dependent state it was terribly confusing and disorienting. I felt like a kid left a train station as an engineer asks me questions about where my mommy and daddy were as I try to answer with my mind trying to work out the discrepancies between my current dilemma and the directive to not speak to strangers.45