Thursday, December 18, 2014


The cappuccino is pleasant enough, but strong, so I return to the barista and request a tiny top-up of warm milk.

“I don’t do that,” she sneers, as if she is a famous chef who will serve a hamburger with only toppings she approves.  “Perhaps you need a different drink, a misto or a latte?”

“No, this one is fine,” I say.  “It just needs a few drops of warm milk.”

“Well, I’ll have to charge you fifty cents.”

I shrug.

She reluctantly pours.  And instructs the cashier to ring up a sale.

Fifty cents.

In her mind:   Did she think I was trying to muscle in on a more expensive drink? Or might therapy and meds be in her future?

Little wonder Starbucks does so well…