I ordered a tall Americano and a water at the cash register. I waited a couple minutes by the bar but the water never came. No big deal, I’ll just ask again.
“Can I get a cup of water?”
The Asian lady barista said, “Sure I’ll get it for you this time but next time can you get back in line and ask for it?” Suck deez.
That barista is actually a manager, and I’ve seen her give attitude to others and reprimand her subordinates in front of customers. After I got my water I briefly considered using my Pulitzer-worthy writing skills to write a letter to corporate headquarters, but that would take too much effort.
A large black man next to the bar sees I’m waiting for my coffee drink. “My drink is taking forever too,” he said.
We small talk for 30 seconds. I looked at the Asian barista and said to him, “You see that woman? I really hate her.”
“That’s my wife.”
“Haha yeah right.”
“No really, she is my wife.”
“Uhhhhhhhh yeah I’m saying that because I tried to get a water but she was not very nice.” It only took five seconds for me to regress into a beta male.
“Oh she can seem tough but this store is very busy.”
Phew, he’s cool with me hating his wife. I chat a little to alleviate my guilty feelings as my intoxicating charm wins him over: he ends up introducing me to her as his “homeboy.” He told her to look out for me in the future, so talking shit to a man’s wife may actually get me free coffee. I didn’t learn a lesson from this.