Throwback Thursday From October 2016 – “I’m Glad I’m Not Dave.”

THIS MORNING I WENT TO ST. ARBUCKS EARLIER THAN USUAL. I figured I could get some time to write and calmly sneak up on the day.

It didn’t work out that way.

I should have known that things weren’t going to work out for me.

When I walked through the door I saw that there was a new person standing at the cash register. The regular staff persons know my usual order so well that they often see me pulling into the parking lot and have my coffee ready and waiting before I come through the door.

With a Newbie on duty all bets are off.

It’s not that my order is so complicated – “Venti Iced Coffee with cream, but no sweetener.”  That’s it. None of that “Half Caff, Half Decaff, A dash of Pumpkin Spice, and a handful of Cap’n Crunch – in a red cup. And whistle the ‘Ave Maria’ while you stir it, clockwise only.”

The young woman who took my order (She looked to be about 12 years old.) actually repeated my order correctly, but she had trouble finding the proper buttons on the register screen. She was new, but then I made a fatal mistake. I asked her to ring up my free refill at the same time, just in case things got busy by the time I’d be ready to leave with it. You would have thought that I had asked her for a demonstration of Time Travel. My request, designed to save her some time, really threw her a curveball.

I knew it was a mistake when I saw her eyes glaze over and get a little teary.

There must be a steep learning curve on her job. I should have been more sympathetic. I could never do that job without committing assault and battery within minutes of encountering some customer like me.

She eventually got it all worked out and I got away from her just in case she was considering winging me with a stale bagel.

I had barely gotten my morning meds forced down my throat before the other shoe fell.

I had just started to write up my mistreatment of the new barista and feeling guilty when another young woman walks over to my table in the corner. I was trapped and she looked determined.

“Excuse me, Sir, I don’t mean to disturb you…” (Here it comes. I’m about to be accused of mistreating the barista.) “…But I’m supposed to meet a man named Dave here at Starbucks. Are you Dave?”

What the…? Does she think I’m her Craig’s List love match? I’m at least 40 years older than her. What is she into?

“No, Miss, I’m not Dave, but I’m sure he’ll be here soon. Don’t give up.”

I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t want to have her get teary-eyed on me too.

She smiled and walked away looking more confused than hurt. I went back to my writing knowing that I now had something else to write about.

Over the next ten minutes I watched this young woman approach three more men only to walk back to her table alone. I was beginning to feel sorry for her until at table number four she hit paydirt. A fellow, dressed nicely and completely wholesome, smiled and stood. They shook hands and she sat down. Eureka! He must be Dave!

I couldn’t help but keep my eyes on them. What a disappointment.

It turned out that their meeting was a job interview. Dave handed her a resume′ and she had him fill out some paperwork. It looked like she was considering hiring him, until…. Dave must have said something wrong because she put down his resume′, stuck out her hand for a goodbye shake and stood up. Dave looked a bit stunned, but he shook her hand again and watched her pick up her coffee and head for the door.

That was one of the shortest job interviews I’ve ever seen.

I’m glad I wasn’t Dave. I’m still glad I’m not Dave. I think that Dave is not too happy being Dave either.

Oh well. At least it gave me something to write about while I sipped my coffee. Maybe Dave needs to do some rewriting – on his resume′.

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