Life in Progress: A weblog by Heidi Price

My barista

He is interested in my day, very interested.

"And how are you doing today," my barista chirps as I pull up to the window.

"I'm fine," I say, and hand him the $1.80 something I've counted out in quarters, dimes and nickels.

He takes my money.

"And how are you doing today?" he asks again. I look to see if their are any cars behind me ordering at the window. Maybe he's looking at me and talking to them through that thing hooked on his ear.

No, he's talking to me. I know this thing, the nervous talking thing. I do it all the time. It's a socially lethal trait. I try to work with him.

"I'm fine, well I'm working so I'm as fine as you can be when you're working," I say and he hands me my venti green tea with one tea bag and steamed skim milk.

"So, what are you up to today?" he asks.

I look behind me again to make sure there are no other vehicles whose occupants he might be addressing.

"Just working," I say. I wouldn't care so much except, well, I'm pretty much a twice-a-day regular at Sixbucks and its the second time we've had this conversation today.


Paul said...

Come on, Heidi, cut the barista some this often cold world, a few insincere pleasantries aren't such a bad thing.

10:07 PM  

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