All Things Woompty

It's not a problem unless I say it is

Remember that story that was in all the papers a few years back, the one about the woman who got the kidney from her barista at Starbucks? It sounded kind of crazy at the time; it was basically handing over an organ to a stranger, right? I mean, you have to be some kind of hero to want to do that.

But then a Starbucks opened up near my apartment, a Starbucks that was within walking distance and kind of on my way to work. So I started going there a little more often. I went there often enough that one of the baristas noticed that I was losing weight after my surgery, and a couple of them started recognizing my pink travel cup and remembering what I drink. But I had a job that demanded that I be there on time and usually I preferred to sleep in rather than get up early enough to stop and get some coffee so I was an occasional visitor rather than a regular.

Until this summer.

Because this summer I got a job with a new company and this new job? Doesn't have a set start time. I tend to get there sometime between 8:30 and 9 and still beat most everyone in; I do love a relaxed office environment. Of course, I also have a longer commute so I started stopping to grab some coffee at that Starbucks on the corner a little more often. And then a little more often became pretty much almost every day. Next thing I know, the baristas all know my name, one of them starts calling me Mel, and then whammo, I know all of their names too.

There's tall Cindy, who's always smily and never messes up my drink. And short Cindy, who doesn't work very often at that store and is pregnant. There's Megan and Amanda and Josh and Adam, and adorably young and chipper Sofia with the curly, curly hair who sings along with the Motown songs and talks with me about crafty stuff. And that's just my morning crew.

My afternoon/night time crew (who I see when I need a tea latte) is Devin and Dan and Mike the crazy musician dude and Gavin with the crazy hair, who is nice and a little wacky and who told me the other night that apparently, the baristas talk about me with each other. Now, I knew I had a little Starbucks addiction problem when they sent me a free Starbucks Gold card, but this? This is a sign of a true Problem.

I am at My Starbucks often enough that the baristas have been known to discuss me and how nice I am when I come in (at least according to Gavin, who thanked me for helping him fix my drink the other night). I have to wonder how horrible other customers must be to them when a customer who shows them some common courtesy and a smile makes an impression. But I have to admit I kind of love the fact that 75% of the time I don't need to tell them my drink order because they all know it.

And now I understand how that barista was able to give up her kidney to a customer, because they weren't strangers after all. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go grab a latte.

posted by Melinda @ 9:39 PM