Wednesday, April 6, 2011

What an odd life I do lead....

Gosh, if you re-read some of my posts it's like a smorgasboard of humiliating tales, weird creepy people and just downright absurdity.

So, in keeping with the trend, file this one away in the WTF file, mmkay?

There's a coffee shop around the corner from work that I walk to with a coworker to sate her penchant for extra-hot Chai Lattes (the gal is a woman after my own heart I tell ya).

One day last November I decided on one of these little outings that I would partake in the lovliness that is an extra-hot Chai Latte.

It should be known that the counter guy knows my coworker not only by order, but by name as well, considering she's a daily patron.

Make sure the record shows that the counterhelp did not ask for my name when I placed the order.

It should also be known that said co-worker is about 5'10". Tall? Yes. Freakishly so? Absolutely not.

Let the record show that I, myself, am 5'6". Tall? Not necessarily. Average? Sure.

I paid the counterhelp, took my receipt and didn't think anything more of it until several weeks later when I was cleaning out my wallet and saw on the reciept that the order identifier was for "short lady."
Stop by again soon...yeah, right

Short Lady?? Short. Lady??

What the hell?

I stared at the offending words incredulously, as if I had imagined them.

I took a second look. 

Nope. Not a mistake, there it is right there in black and white: Order for: short lady.

Although it's crazy to feel offended, I couldn't help but feel a latent embarrasment for myself.  How had I not read the reciept until now? More than that, is that the best identifier the counter guy could come up with? How about (coworker's name)'s friend? Or girl with the blue top?

I don't remember the cafe being all that busy, certainly the counter guy could have been a little more creative and, ahem, nicer?

It should be known that I thought I had thrown the reciept away and it was not until this morning when I was digging through another wallet that I rediscovered it and got to relive the humiliation. Yay for me!

I placed the found reciept in my current wallet this morning before heading out the door, determined to confront the cashier guy should my coworker decide she needed an afternoon Chai.

Sure enough, she popped her head out of her office and, shortly after noon, we made the short trek around the corner to the cafe.

Armed with the offending reciept in my pocket, I felt the butterflies and anxiety begin to create a pit in my stomach.

After she ordered and moved aside to wait for her beverage, I slapped the reciept on the counter and said "So this is my identifier? What are my options in switching to another one in the future when I order my drink?"

The counter guy looked at me as if I was crazy to even be contesting him and said, unflinchingly, "We get to type in whatever we want."

"In that case, I suppose of all the other things the person could have called me I should be glad I got short lady then. Am I right?"

All he did was blink back at me.

Moral of this story? Sometimes the silver lining hurts, folks.

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