Barista Sundays

This post is a tad bit too late, and only because of my silly head getting a ‘jet-lag’ so to speak.

‘My’ Barista boy’s gone. Two weeks, and no sign of him. So I’m thinking he’s probably quit or gotten relocated. Nevertheless, I *had* to befriend a new one, it’s a necessity, so I did. This one’s good too, although he doesn’t handle the orders, just does the standing-behind-the-counter-job. That’s okay, because I already have another B.B who does that, i.e, knows how my Blueberry swizzle is cut, and knows the fact that throwing in a pack of tic-tacs makes me happy.

And now, the one-behind-the-counter knows my usual order, my usual table (although yesterday, my usual table was inhabited by osme two other whackos, and I did glare, and my glare did get noticed by B.B who was in half a mind to help me.) But that’s fine, I guess. Change.


More later, I’m getting late for French now.

x EdgyShark x


About edgyshark


Posted on October 12, 2009, in Existence and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Perhaps you should train guys at Barista to make black coffee properly. And remind them everyday that black coffee doesn’t include milk. It isn’t that tough, but they do.
    ahem, Barista.

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